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tokkiwrites · 3 months ago

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𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (5)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader • series masterlist.

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants. Tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal, talk about divorce, no one owning up to what they really do, main characters get their happy ending... OR DO THEY?! >:) /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! last part baby!!! kind of. you'll see >:) until then enjoy this mumbled mess of 4.63k words bunnies! thank you for the immense support on this series. excuse any grammatical errors <//3

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for air. You watched as she paced the room, trembling with the weight of her anger and heartbreak. “You don’t know what love is!” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Love isn’t sneaking around, tearing apart the people who trust you the most. Love isn’t ruining your family because you can’t control yourself.”

Your chest tightened, the sting of her words cutting deep. “I didn’t plan for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It wasn’t like I set out to hurt you—”

“But you did,” she interrupted, her voice cracking. “You hurt me in the worst way possible. You betrayed me with the one person who was supposed to be on my side. How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to look at you and not see… this?”

Her words crushed you, the weight of her disappointment pressing down like an anchor. You took a step toward her, desperate to bridge the chasm growing between you. “Mom, please—”

“Don’t,” she said, holding up a hand to stop you. Her tears shimmered in the dim light, her face a portrait of devastation. “I need you to leave. Just… go.”

You froze, your heart shattering at the finality in her tone. “Mom…”

“Go!” she shouted, her voice breaking. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned and stumbled toward the door, the walls of the house you’d grown up in suddenly feeling foreign and cold. As you stepped outside, the chill of the night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache inside your chest.

The slam of the door still echoed in your ears as you trudged through the dark streets, clutching your jacket tight against the biting wind. Your mind was spinning, replaying the scene over and over again—the raised voice, the look of disgust on her face, the words that burned like acid.

"You’re a liar. I don’t even know who you are anymore."

Your mother had always been sharp, but you hadn’t expected her to be cruel. Not like that.

She hadn’t even let you explain. Not really. Once she figured it out—once you admitted you were in love with Joel—it was like she couldn’t even look at you. Not forever, maybe. But you knew that in this moment, there was no going back.

You wiped at your face, but it was no use. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and endless, cutting through the cold. You barely noticed when you reached Joel’s building. Your feet carried you up the stairs, and your fists pounded on his door before you even thought about what you’d say.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open. Joel stood there, his face tight with worry that immediately shifted into something darker when he saw you. “You told her,” he said, his voice low and heavy. You froze, your breath catching. Of course, he already knew. “I had to,” you whispered, stepping inside uninvited. “She—she guessed. She cornered me, Joel, I couldn’t—” You decided to lie. You tried to protect him from all of this. Maybe it wasn't your job or your role to do so, but this was the way to show him that it's real. that you are real, and so are all the feelings you have for him.

“You could’ve,” Joel snapped, cutting you off. He shut the door with more force than necessary. “You could’ve waited. You could’ve called me. But instead, you decided to do this on your own.” His words hit like a punch, and you stumbled over your response. “I didn’t have time—”

“That’s bullshit,” he growled, his voice rising. He took a step closer, his eyes boring into yours. “You didn’t want to wait for me. You wanted to handle it yourself, like you always do.”

“That’s not fair,” you shot back, anger bubbling up to meet his. “I didn’t plan this, Joel! She came at me, and I panicked! What was I supposed to do? Lie to her?”

“Yes!” Joel shouted, throwing his hands up. “You should’ve lied, or stalled, or done anything other than blow this whole thing wide open without me. You think this is just about you? It’s not. This affects both of us.” Your stomach twisted at his words. “You think I don’t know that?” you said, your voice trembling. “Do you think I don’t feel sick about what this means for you? For us? Joel, she kicked me out!"

He froze, his jaw tightening. “She what?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “She told me to leave. Said she doesn’t even recognize me anymore. I—” Your voice broke, and you covered your face with your hands. Joel’s anger seemed to deflate all at once, replaced by something softer, though no less pained. He reached for you hesitantly, his fingers brushing your arm.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his tone rough but gentler now. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you into his arms, and the floodgates opened. You sobbed into his chest, your fists clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. For a while, he just held you, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. "I got you, babygirl... 'm right here." But the tension in his body hadn’t gone away, and you could feel the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between you. When your sobs finally quieted, Joel pulled back just enough to look at you. His face was etched with exhaustion and something else—something almost like regret.

“This can’t keep happening,” he said softly. “You can’t just… go off and make decisions like this without me. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice raw. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.” Joel sighed, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “We always do.”

But before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You hesitated, then pulled it out, your heart sinking when you saw the name on the screen. Marjorie. Of course. Joel noticed your hesitation. “Who is it?”

“Marjorie,” you said quietly. He frowned, but said nothing as you swiped to open the message. "You should’ve thought this through", it read.

•Your mom’s already told half the town about what you’ve done. If you’d just shared a little, you wouldn’t be in this mess now. At least they'll know what a homewrecking whore you are.

The room seemed to spin, and you had to sit down before your legs gave out. Joel knelt beside you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and steady. You showed him the message, your hands shaking. His jaw tightened as he read it, a muscle in his cheek jumping.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “She’s trying to twist the knife.”

“She’s right, though,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I—I did this to myself. To us.”

“Hey,” Joel said firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You hear me, sweet girl? This isn’t on you. It’s on them. On her.” You wanted to believe him. But the weight of everything—the fallout with your mom, the shame, the fear of what came next—it was too much.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” you whispered, tears welling up again. "Maybe it don't need fixin'.." Joel’s expression softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” he said again. “One step at a time. But you’ve got to let me in. No more shutting me out.”

The road ahead felt impossibly long, the cracks in your relationship with Joel deep and jagged. But as he held you close, his arms steady and sure, you let yourself hope.

the nigh faded as your lids finally closed, the soft whispers of Joel a blanket over your tensed body. Finally, you fall asleep, escaping this day, hoping that when you wake up It'll all turn out to be a bad dream.

But as the night fell upon, you so did the day.

Joel stood on the doorstep, fists clenched at his sides. The brisk wind carried the faint scent of pine from the trees lining the street. He stared at the door in front of him, steeling himself for what he knew was coming. When your mother opened the door, her face immediately twisted into a scowl. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” she spat. Joel held her gaze, his jaw tight. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, we do?” she snapped, stepping onto the porch and crossing her arms. “You’ve said enough, Joel. Or maybe not—seems like you were too busy seducing my daughter to give me the full picture.” Joel winced, but he didn’t look away. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then what do you want?” she shot back, her voice rising. “To explain yourself? To justify this—this shit?”

“I want to make things right,” Joel said, his tone measured. “For her. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Don’t you dare pretend this is about her,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “This is about you. About your selfishness, your inability to think about anyone but yourself.” Joel’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I know you’re angry—”

“Angry?” Her voice grew louder, trembling with indignation. “Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it! Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Joel? My daughter—your stepdaughter. Do you even hear yourself?” Joel’s shoulders sagged slightly, but his resolve didn’t falter. “It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, really?” she interrupted, her laugh sharp and bitter. “Then explain it to me, Joel. Enlighten me, because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been fucking her this whole time.” His head snapped up, and his voice took on a dangerous edge. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then what?” she demanded, stepping closer. “You ‘accidentally’ fell for her? And so did your dick inside of her? Was this why you got so close to her? Why you were so ‘supportive’ all of a sudden? Because you wanted her?” Joel’s chest rose and fell heavily. “I didn’t plan this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It just happened. She’s not a child, and this wasn’t some sick—”

“Don’t you dare try to justify this!” she hissed, cutting him off again. “You’re supposed to be her father. You were supposed to protect her—not—” Her voice cracked, and she had to look away, blinking rapidly. "Oh my god."

Joel stepped forward, his voice softening. “I never meant to hurt anyone.” She glared at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You think that makes it better? That it wasn’t ‘on purpose’? My God, Joel—this is why you married me, isn’t it?”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback. “What?” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “It makes sense now. You didn’t want me. You wanted her. You saw an opportunity, and you—” Her voice broke again, and she turned away, her hand pressed to her mouth. “That’s not true,” Joel said firmly, his voice rising just slightly. “I loved you. I cared about this family. I—”

“You used this family,” she snapped, spinning back around to face him. “And don’t you dare pretend otherwise. You’ve destroyed everything, Joel. Do you understand that? Everything. And for what?”

Joel’s expression hardened, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “For love,” he said, his voice rough. “I love her. And you can hate me for it all you want, but that’s the truth.” Her mouth fell open slightly, disbelief etched across her face. For a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling through the trees.

“You’re disgusting,” she finally said, her voice quiet but laced with venom. “Do you know what people are saying? What they’re going to say? You’ve ruined her, Joel. You’ve ruined her life, and you don't even understand."

Joel’s throat tightened, and his heart sank with every word that came from her mouth. “I never meant to hurt her,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. He took a step forward, desperate to make her understand. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I love her, but I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I never wanted to destroy this family.” The words seemed to hit her like a slap. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to keep the tears at bay, but they came anyway—one by one, streaming down her face. “You already have, Joel,” she whispered.

There was a heavy silence between them. The weight of everything that had happened hung in the air like an oppressive cloud. Joel wanted to reach out, to comfort her somehow, but he knew he couldn’t. Not now.

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was cold, almost venomous. “You’re not going to get away with this. I’ll make sure of it. I’m telling everyone. I’ve already told people, Joel. You don’t get to just pretend this didn’t happen, that it’s all okay. I will make sure everyone knows what you’ve done.”

His blood ran cold. “You can’t—”

“I will,” she spat. Joel stood there. He wanted to scream, to argue, but the truth hung there. He had screwed up. And he knew that.

“I didn’t want this to happen. You have to believe me,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking. “I was trying to be there for her. I—I never wanted to hurt her or you. It just—it just happened. And I don’t know what to do, but I swear, I never meant for it to go this far.” She crossed her arms tightly, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “You never meant it, Joel? Then why did you let it happen? Why didn’t you stop? You could’ve stopped. You could’ve walked away.

His throat felt tight, constricted with guilt, but he refused to back down. “Because I couldn’t.” Her lip trembled, but she quickly bit it, hiding the emotion that flickered there. She took a deep breath, then looked him square in the eyes. “I want you to leave. Now.”

The command was sharp, final. Joel hesitated, his gaze lingering on her, and then he nodded—slowly. He wasn’t sure what else to say. There were no more words that could fix this, not right now. He turned, heading for the door, the weight of everything pressing down on him with each step.

He felt sick.

With one final glance at the door he’d just walked away from, he turned and walked down the street, away from the house, away from everything. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but none of them made sense.

He had destroyed everything.

And now, there was no going back.

Joel had just come back from a supply run, the door clicking shut behind him. You glanced up from the couch, where you’d been sitting in silence, staring blankly at a book you weren’t really reading. He dropped the grocery bag on the counter, pausing before he looked at you.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he said, his voice rough but laced with concern. You shrugged, hugging your knees to your chest. “Not hungry.” He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, baby. I know it’s hard, but we’re in this together. You know that, don’t you?”

You looked at him then, searching his face for something—reassurance, maybe, or a sense that he really believed what he was saying. “Together,” you echoed, the word feeling hollow. “We might be together, but everything else is ruined, Joel. My mom hates me. She hates you... And everyone else knows now too."

Running away now sounds about right.

Joel crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Your mom’s angry. She’s hurt. But she’ll come around. And whatever others say... Fuck 'em.” You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. “She won’t, Joel. Not after what she said. Not after what we did.”

“She doesn’t get to judge us,” he said firmly, his voice low. “She can be angry all she wants, but we didn’t do this to hurt her. We didn’t plan for any of this.” You flinched at his words. “That doesn’t make it okay. We still—Joel, we still had an affair. We lied to her. I lied to her... and I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Joel reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re the same person you’ve always been...My sweet 'n smart girl. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You looked at him, his eyes filled with determination and tears. He meant it—every word. But that didn’t erase the reality of what had happened. It didn’t change the fact that you’d hurt someone you both cared about, even if that love had long since soured.

“Do you regret it?” you asked suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “Do you regret... us?” Joel froze, his hand tightening around yours. For a moment, you thought he might say yes—that he’d take it all back if he could. But then he shook his head, his voice resolute.

“No,” he said. “I don’t regret loving you. I can’t. But I hate how it happened. I hate what it’s done to you—to us.” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. You buried your face in his chest, letting yourself cry for everything you’d lost—for the family you’d broken and the love that had brought you here. “I’m scared, Joel,” you whispered. “What if it’s not enough? What if we’re not enough?” His arms tightened around you, his voice soft but unwavering. “We’ll figure it out. One day at a time, baby.”

You wait for the moon to rise and hug you.

Tonight, as the moonlight filtered through the thin curtains in his bedroom, you realized you couldn’t stay here anymore. Not in this town. Not surrounded by the memories of everything you’d lost.

Joel was beside you, his breathing steady but shallow. He’d fallen asleep sitting against the headboard, a book forgotten in his lap. His brow was furrowed, even in rest. You stared at him for a long moment before gently nudging his shoulder. “Joel,” you whispered. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a second, he looked confused, but then his gaze softened when he saw you. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded but didn’t answer right away. Instead, you sat up, crossing your legs and pulling the blanket over them. Joel straightened, too, setting the book aside and giving you his full attention.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” you started. Joel tilted his head slightly. “What’s that?”

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “Why don’t we leave? Just... pack up and go somewhere else. Start over. There’s nothing keeping me here, Joel. Not anymore. We could move, get away from all this, and just... be us. We could have a life, a family of our own. Isn’t that what we’ve always wanted?”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, the way he was trying to process what you’d just said. “You want to leave?” he asked finally, his voice low.

You nodded. “I can’t stay here, Joel. Not after everything. Everyone knows. They’re all talking about us, judging us. I can’t go anywhere without feeling their eyes on me. And my mom... She’s made it clear I’m not welcome. But we don’t have to stay. We could go somewhere no one knows us. Start fresh.”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know, darlin’. Moving... It’s a big decision. And what about you? Your work, your friends?”

“They’re not my friends anymore,” you said bitterly, the sting of betrayal still fresh. “If they ever were, they’re sure not now. And work... I can find something else. None of that matters, Joel. All that matters is us. If we stay here, this will follow us forever. But if we leave, we can leave all this behind.” His shoulders slumped slightly, and he looked at you; sadness and longing. “You really think running away’s the answer?”

“It’s not running away,” you argued gently. “It’s starting over. Joel, you said we’d figure this out together. This is how we do it! We can’t change what happened, but we can choose what happens next. And I choose you.”

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Joel’s gaze locked on yours, and you could see the battle raging inside him. He wanted what you were offering—a chance to leave this mess behind, to build a life with you. But he was also scared of the unknown and the risks that came with it.

Finally, he reached out, his hand covering yours. “If this is what you want,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “then we’ll do it. We’ll leave. Wherever you wanna go, I’ll follow.”

Relief flooded through you, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you threw your arms around him. “Thank you,” you murmured against his shoulder. “Thank you..." He held you tightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You’re all I’ve got, darlin’. I’d go anywhere for you.”

That was enough. It had to be.

The hum of the apartment felt suffocating, but there was a strange comfort in it, too. You’d been in the same place for so long, yet now, every little sound—the refrigerator humming, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall—felt like a reminder of everything that had fallen apart. The town that had been home for so many years now felt like a prison, a place where the whispers never stopped, and the eyes of judgment followed you wherever you went.

But you weren’t staying here. You couldn’t stay here. You were both looking for a way out. Maybe you more than him.

Joel had been working overtime, pushing through his job, despite the whispers about him at work—the rumors that now tainted his every conversation. His job, the stares, the small-town gossip— it all got to him. to both of you.

As for you, you had quit yours. There wasn’t any point in pretending anymore. Your coworkers had given you that look— the one that said they knew but couldn’t talk about it openly. You didn’t need that anymore. You didn’t need to keep hiding in a job that felt more like a cage than an opportunity.

What you needed was space. You needed to leave. To escape. To start somewhere far away from here.

You stood by the counter, stirring a pot of vegetable soup as the familiar sounds of the apartment surrounded you. You were tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of fighting for something that had no resolve. It should’ve been an easy answer. You knew this would happen, how it would end up. And you could see it in Joel’s eyes, too. But every time you thought about leaving, about getting out of this town where everyone knew too much, there was a brief moment of hope. A spark. What if this was the first step toward something real? Toward a life that was just yours? Was it that horrible you wanted to he happy despite what you had done?

You let out a deep breath, your thoughts interrupted as Joel stepped into the kitchen, his tired eyes locking onto yours.

"Hi, baby." he murmured, his voice a little rough from the long day. You turned to him, a smile tugging at your lips despite the exhaustion that had been weighing on you. “Hi,” you said softly, and before you could say anything more, he closed the space between you. Joel’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then your temple. “Missed you,” he said, his lips brushing against your skin. “Every damn minute I was at work, all I could think about was gettin' home to you.”

You laughed quietly, resting your hands on his chest. “You’re such a sap,” you teased, but there was no bite in your words—just warmth, just the comfort of knowing he was here. “Only for you,” Joel replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his expression softened. “You’re my whole world, baby. Don’t you know that by now?”

Your chest tightened, but in the best way. You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I think I do,” you whispered. Joel’s smile grew, and he leaned down to kiss you—slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world falter away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his hands stayed firm on your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“We’re really doing this..?” you said. “We’re leaving. Packing up and going to a whole new place..."

“Damn right we are,” his voice was steady. “We got that apartment a few towns over...with the balcony and all that sunlight you love so much, could maybe get a puppy too, who knows? It’s ours now. We’re making this happen.”

"Or a kitty." you giggle. "Whatever you want, angel. anything you want." You nodded, a smile breaking across your face. Your future home. Yours and Joel's. For how unreal it sounded, it felt like a lifeline. It was small but perfect, tucked away in a quiet area where no one would know your names. It was far enough from here that the whispers, the judgment, and the past couldn’t follow. It was everything you both needed. “I still can’t believe they approved us,” you said, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. “It feels too good to be true.” Joel chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. “Believe it, baby. It’s happening. And I can’t wait to see you in it. Can’t wait to start a real life with you..." he trails off, palm settling on your lower belly and, oh, butterflies bloom into your stomach. His words made your chest ache. He leaned down to kiss you again, his hands moving up to cradle your face. The kiss was longer this time, deeper, like he was trying to pour everything he felt for you into it. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were shining. “We’ll start packing this weekend,” he said, his tone laced with excitement. “I’ve already started thinking about how to load the truck. Gonna make sure all your stuff’s safe, no scratches or anythin'.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so practical.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be,” he teased, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “But seriously, I want you to feel at home there. I want it to be everything you’ve ever wanted. Hell, I don’t care if we’re in a shoebox as long as it’s with you.” Your throat tightened at his words, and you buried your face in his chest, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I love you,” you said softly. Joel’s hand came up to tangle in your hair, and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “I love you, baby. More than anything.” it seemed real enough for you.

For a while, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the warmth of the moment settle around you. You weren’t just running from something anymore, or someone. You were running toward something— together. And it was wrong, yes, and maybe karma will eventually make it's way to you, but until then this was your chance to be happy.

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cassidyandonlycassidy · 9 months ago

Text

no one man should have all that power

miguel o'hara x reader

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, NONCON!, RAPE!, size difference (canon, miguel just big as hell), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dark!miguel, p in v sex, threats, mentions of anal, cleaning lady!reader, attempted rape by not miguel/attempted mugging

your focus is half on your phone playing the local news through your headphones, and half on scrubbing down the sink in front of you.

you don't move on until it's spotless. perfectly clean. you're willing to use every tool in your arsenal considering this is your pickiest client.

you are about to spray down the shower and allow the chemicals to soak and do part of the work for you, when the news anchor shifts the conversation.

“and to discuss the issue of spiderman, please welcome nypd captain charleston and queens resident andrea roberts.”

your attention shifts fully to your phone. andrea begins, a sweet looking older lady who explains that spiderman saved her from being mugged. you feel your heart beat faster when they flash images of him on screen, his wide shoulders, dark black and red suit hugging his body and abs.

“and what happens when spiderman begins to ask for something in return? he saves you from being mugged, but then demands a payment. what happens when he starts to use his powers for evil instead of good? we must focus on unmasking him and stopping his crusade of the city. no one man should have all that power.”

you have to reach quickly to shut your phone off, powering down the screen and turning off the captains words as your client enters the bathroom.

“almost done?” she asks, a frown on her overfilled lips, shining with a lipgloss to distract from the fact that her skin is almost painfully stretched.

“yes ma’am.” you nod. “just the shower is left.”

“hmm…” you wait for her to find a critique, even the tiniest speck of dust that you missed, but she's unable to as she sighs dramatically. “i have a party to get to. see yourself out, the door will lock behind you.”

“and payment?” you hate having to ask just from the way her eyes turn dark, clearly annoyed with your questions, and while she may be one of your worst clients, she's also one of your best paying.

“on the kitchen counter.” she says before turning on her bright red heels and stomping away.

you sigh and turn your phone back on, frowning when you realize the spiderman coverage is already over before turning your attention to the shower.

you're whistling to yourself as you head home, needing the music to keep you from deciding to just pass out on the nearest bench, and you don't dare put your headphones in after the sun has set.

a full day of cleaning apartments from the elite of the city, and now you have to head back to your tiny one.

you clutch your tote bag further into your side, knowing there's cash from the few clients who refuse to prepay with a credit card until they see the work you've done, despite never leaving a client unsatisfied.

“hey pretty lady.” you're used to the cat calls, so you just keep walking past the man, not acknowledging him even when you hear him push off the wall and follow you, footsteps heavy and far too close for your liking.

“i said hey!” he shouts, voice turning aggressive. you look around, but there's no one else on the empty street but a few distant cars. “bitch, you gonna be nice and say hello back?”

the man grips your shoulder and forces your feet to stop. your eyes widen as you come face to face with him, his eyes furious and breath smelling of alcohol.

“hello.” you whisper out, hoping that's all it will take for him to leave you alone, but of course it's not as he shoves you into the dark alley between two apartment buildings.

“since you wanna be a bitch, you can get on your knees and suck my dick.” he's too strong as he shoves you down onto your knees, roughly hitting the pavement as you cry out, hoping someone hears you.

“and you can give me all your money too, whore.”

“now that's not a way to talk to a woman.”

the voice makes both of you jump as you turn to see spiderman emerge out of the shadows, even taller than you pictured him.

the drunk man scatters before spiderman can get any closer.

“th-thank you, spiderman.” you know you must sound pathetic right now, voice breathy and still on your knees as he steps closer.

when his hand reaches down, you don't hesitate to place your hand in his and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“are you alright?” his voice is soft and smooth like butter and it makes you swoon even more.

“thanks to you.” you know you're blushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand still clasped in his.

“and what about thanks?” spiderman leans down. “would you give me a kiss to thank me?”

“i-yes.” you don't think about what it means as the area around his mouth and chin disintegrates, showing off his strong jaw and plump lips.

despite him being almost bent over, you still have to raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

the kiss that you meant to be soft and sweet is quickly intensified as he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you to hold you effortlessly in the air as his mouth devours yours.

“wait!” you pull away, eyes widening when you realize that at some point the rest of the disguise covering his face has also been pulled away.

he's even more handsome than you could have imagined. perfect cheekbones leading to a strong nose, his eyes big and brown, showing all the intensity behind them.

“what?” he huffs out, annoyed that the kiss ended so soon.

“i-i don't even know your name.” you admit shyly. while you're alright with giving spiderman a soft kiss as a thank you, you're not sure how you feel about the hot and heavy make out session.

“im spiderman, isn't that enough?” he frowns at you, wishing you would just shut up so he can do as he pleases.

“i-”

spiderman leans back in, attacking your lips with his. you don't know what to do, your feet are so far off the ground, and his arms are holding you so tight to his defined chest.

you relax and just allow it to happen, allow his mouth to press kiss after kiss against yours.

you let out a gasp when spidermans hand grips your chest, shifting your weight to one arm around your waist.

the open mouth allows his tongue to push inside, dominating the kiss in a whole new way as his palm rubs against your boobs.

“i-” you try to pull away, but to no avail as he's not willing to let you out of the kiss.

spiderman moves until your back is pressed against the brick wall, his other hand dropping to your ass, holding you up that way instead.

his hand is so big, fingers stretching so far that he only has to press a bit more between your thighs to be against your pussy.

“how else are you gonna thank me, pretty?” he asks, finally letting you take a deep breath, his hand still squeezing your tits over your shirt.

“i don't want to do this anymore!” you squeal out now that you're able to talk.

“what?” his voice turns dark. “i saved you and you don't want to thank me?”

“i just want to go home!” you plead. you know there's no point in screaming or trying to run.

“not until you give me a proper thank you.” he growls out. “but since im feeling nice tonight, ill let you choose. should i fuck you or settle just for you sucking me off?”

“you can't do this!” you try to wiggle out of his hold, but he's too strong.

“i can. who is gonna stop me?” the chuckle that escapes his mouth sounds like pure evil.

“i know what you look like! ill tell everyone. ill go to the news, to the police-”

“you think they'll believe you? im spiderman. i rule this city.” he shakes his head like he's disappointed in you for even mentioning it.

“but-” he continues on. “since you've taken so long to answer, ill just have to fuck you.”

you manage to get out one yell, one shout, one plead for no before spidermans mouth is back on yours.

his hand does move to cup your pussy, thick fingers sliding against your core. you feel your pussy wetten from the movements, traitorous and betraying your true intentions.

you whimper against his lips as your pants are ripped away along with your underwear, literally tearing them easily off your body.

he must have disintegrated or called back part of his suit, you have no idea how the technology works, and you certainly have no interest in figuring it out now as you feel his cock slide through your folds.

spiderman has to pull away to slide you lower, your back moving down the brick wall as his strong hands guide your hips until his cock is against your entrance, poking in.

“you're- you're too big.” you try again to plead with him. “you'll tear me in half.”

he just shrugs, a smirk even twitching at the corner of his lips as he pushes you down, hips rising up to sink you down onto his cock.

you cry out, head falling back as he continues to move, feeling like it's never ending as he continues to split your insides to make room for him.

“shit!” spiderman shouts out. “you're so tight.”

you want to say it's because you're not turned on, that you don't truly want this, but you don't want to anger him even more as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

you cry out, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. it's not as painful after a minute, your pussy adjusting to his length and girth as he fucks you without abandon.

spiderman steps away from the wall and switches so his back is pressed against it as he begins to move you up and down, using you as he would a toy to pleasure himself, but instead of thrusting into plastic, he's pushing repeatedly into your cunt.

you lean forward, hands balancing against his defined chest, needing the stability as your body is forced into taking his cock.

“please!” you cry out.

“quit crying or it'll get worse.” you're not sure how it could get worse until the hand on his hip moves, moving between your ass cheeks and pressing a finger against your other hole.

“im sorry.” you quickly say, looking up in fear that just spews spiderman faster, pumping you up and down without even breaking a sweat.

“so warm and wet.” he smiles down. “are you sure you don't want this?”

you stay silent, hoping the experience ends soon as you feel his cock swelling inside of you, pushing against your walls.

“you gonna cum with me?” he asks, other hand reaching to swirl around your clit. you wish his rough fingertip didn't feel so good against your sensitive bud.

“i don't want to.” you whimper out, entire body slumping forward as you struggle to remain in control, feeling your hips begin to shake and the way your cunt clenches around his length.

“you're gonna. come on.” the bouncing, the movement of your body up and down and the way you're practically speared onto his cock is all too much as you let out a squeal, cumming hard just as spiderman does as well, shooting his seed inside of you, feeling like it's right into your womb from how deep it is.

“oh, fuck.” he moans out. “now that was a good thank you.”

he pulls you off his cock and places you back onto the ground where your legs instantly crumple, landing in a heap against the concrete.

“don't forget your bag.” spiderman kicks your tote bag that had fallen off your shoulder towards you, spewing the cash all over the ground.

you look up at him, fear no longer in your eyes, replaced with anger and disgust. you know nothing will happen to him, but from this moment on, taking down spiderman will be your only goal.

no one man should have all that power.

212 notes · View notes

lostsyren · 4 months ago

Note

Love love LOVED what you did with the request of Sofia overhearing Rafe, could we get a part two of a groveling really desperate Rafe who does everything in his power to show her how much she means to him and begging for it not to be over

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆standards part two ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

{a/n: thank you for the request lovely and thank you for the sweet words about part 1! i hope you like it! I’m getting through the requests slowly but surely, bear with me!! feedback is much appreciated <3}

{summary: rafe goes and tries to make things right after finding out sofia overheard what he said at the club}

{part 1 here} {part 3 here}

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Sofia wasn’t answering any of his calls. Rafe paced back and forth across the cold floors of his house, biting at his thumb. His phone screen was in the other hand, the harsh blue light shining up at him saying the same damn thing: no new notifications.

He half expected her to come back to the house– that’s what she usually did. Then the words he said to Topper and Ruthie regurgitated in his brain yet again.

I’m not living with a pogue.

He’d really fucked things up this time.

Rafe knew she wasn’t at the club– she didn’t work on Saturdays. Than must’ve meant she was at home.

Despite knowing she didn’t want to see him, talk to him or even just reply to a text, Rafe grabbed his car keys and exited the house, the sound of the door slamming shut behind him echoing across the the empty, lonesome halls.

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“Me voy a dormir,” Sofia called out to her mom, heading outside to go into her bedroom. It was late, nearing midnight. All her siblings were asleep and her parents were in the living room watching TV.

Usually she’d be with Rafe. She was always with Rafe. Like a stupid little lapdog. The realisation hit like a punch in the face– all that time…it was nothing to him. Her heart began to feel heavy again, like an anchor was dragging it down far, far into her chest. So she sat down in bed, sighing deeply. Enough tears had been shed, her eyes red and bloodshot.

Her parents had looked at her as if they already knew what happened. Sofia’s mom bundled her up into a hug, pressing a kiss on her cheek, whilst her father had a knowing look in his eye– as if he’d been waiting for this to happen.

Sofia wasn’t stupid. She didn’t start messing around with Rafe with the prospect of a future. He was the one who led her on, he was the one who’d been so loving, he was the one who convinced her he was different.

But at the end of the day he was a kook and she was a pogue. Not that she cared; she thought he didn’t either.

Sofia sniffed away another bout of tears, slipping out of her blouse and skirt, realising she’d left her pyjamas as his house. So she grabbed a random shirt from off her chair, about to throw it on, before she realised it was his shirt– that she’d accidentally taken home with her ages ago and didn’t return. Sofia’s heart lurched with sadness, as she wore it regardless, the faint smell of him making her delirious with despair.

Collapsing back in bed, she picked her phone up, skimming through the wave of messages Rafe had sent. Sofia quickly swiped them away.

Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, willing for sleep to find her. Maybe then she could forget how much he hurt her and deal with all this shit tomorrow.

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Rafe had a rough idea of where Sofia lived, from dropping her off home and picking her up to drive her to work. But he still checked her location to find the right house.

He hated driving down to The Cut, with its dingy buildings and barely functioning street lights. Whenever he used to go down to see Barry, he felt the same, and now he was back again, in the thick of the night, sneaking into her house.

He parked his car down the street, so her parents wouldn’t hear the engine or see the headlights, before he snuck around past the gate and into the back garden.

Creaking cicadas and distant wails of car alarms hid the sound of his footsteps crunching across the gravel.

Rafe spotted her bedroom. Well if you could call it that– a tiny corner of the house, with peeling paint and overgrown weeds surrounding it.

There was no light spilling out the window. What if she wasn’t there? Getting closer to the glass, Rafe peered through, spotting Sofia lying in bed, her back turned to him. He let out a sigh of relief before the realisation of how creepy this was dawned upon him.

What the fuck was he doing?

He had time to turn back and go home. Respecting her wishes was the least he could do after all the shit he said. But she was right there.

He could explain. Apologise. Make things okay again. The prospect of redemption was too tempting– so he tapped on the glass.

Rafe watched as she turned around in bed, facing the door. She probably couldn’t see who it was in the dark, so Rafe decided to just let himself in.

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Sleep was futile, bringing only a gaping void in which she picked and prodded at her and Rafe’s ‘relationship’.

Sofia thought about when she first met him working at the bar. She was quickly enamoured by his beauty, her silent adoration only spiking when he spoke to her, his charm and humour winning her over in an instant.

He never seem perturbed by her status as a pogue. But she should’ve known from the little throwaway comments and his strange disdain for the Cut. But Sofia would brush these things away because despite it all, he’d still treat her wondrously.

She initially thought it was just sex, Rafe using her as a carnal distraction. But when he’d let her see his vulnerability, when he’d confide to her in the late hours, when he’d cling to her as if she was the only solid thing in his life, she felt special, she felt adored. So in turn, she adored him back.

A sharp tapping sound cut through her whorling thoughts and painful reminiscing. Twisting around in bed, she saw a tall, dark figure hover outside her door. What was her dad doing at this time of night?

Sofia sat up as the door creaked open, for her to see it wasn’t her dad– but Rafe Cameron.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sofia half shouted, half whispered, aware that her parents were a room away.

Rafe stood in the doorway, his hands held up in surrender as he watched her with unblinking eyes.

“I just want to talk ok?” His words were wary and calculated.

“Come in and shut the door,” she hissed switching her lamp on.

Rafe complied, hovering awkwardly as he took in her bedroom. Discomfort prickled across Sofia’s skin. She hated to admit it, but she was embarrassed that Rafe had to see her tiny room.

“Nice shirt,” he finally said, a shadow of a grin on his face.

“Shut up,” she groused, grabbing a cardigan to cover herself and her bare legs.

“Look, Sofia I really am sorry that I hurt you–“

“You’re sorry that you hurt me or you’re sorry for what you said?”

Rafe blinked in confusion, “both?”

Sofia scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself, “what standards do I fail to live up to huh? Is it my job? Is it my house? Can you even stand to be in the Cut for this long?”

“I didn’t even know what I was saying– it was Ruthie, you know how she is, always stirring.”

“Yes I know Ruthie, I have to put up with her whenever we hang out, cause that’s all we ever do– hang out with your friends.”

“I’m sorry–“

“I’m not finished,” Sofia snapped, “and I don’t care what she says or what she does, I care about you Rafe, and instead of defending me, you just threw me under the bus.”

“I know I know, I just– I wanna make it better. Tell me what I can do to make it better.” Rafe had neared her now, his eyes resembling the ocean at night, churning and ink like, as he looked down at her.

Sofia honestly didn’t know. One part of her wanted to say fuck it and just kiss him and make it all better again, whilst the other part compelled her to make him feel as terrible as he made her feel.

“I need some space.” She said in the end, taking a step back from him.

“No,” Rafe took a step forward, “no you don’t. Let me make it better, let me show you how much I care.”

He placed two hands on either side of her as Sofia stumbled back, nearly toppling into her bed.

She motionlessly watched him, as he got lower and lower, his eyes perpetually locked with her own.

He was on his knees, his hands sliding down her body, his fingers slipping under the cardigan to ghost the skin of her thighs.

“You look so good in my shirt,” he murmured, voice low and gruff. Sofia’s stomach somersaulted at the image of Rafe on his knees in front of her, so torturously close.

“Rafe,” she began warily, unsure what to do. He took that as a sign to continue. Rafe’s grip on her thighs tightened, dragging her closer to him. He dipped his head low, to press a chaste kiss on her hot skin.

“Please Sofia,” he whispered against her, his grip on her desperate and painful.

Her brain was cloudy, a millions thoughts swirling about in a dizzying cyclone. She was on the precipice of surrender, about to just let him have her, ready to put the shit he said in the past, when her dad’s voice called out from outside.

“Sofia why’s your light on? ¿Está todo bien?”

“Shit,” she gasped, stepping away from Rafe’s lips on her thighs, using her hands to push off his fingers from her legs.

“Sí, I’m ok!” She called out. But the sound of her dad’s footsteps on the porch indicated he was coming in.

Rafe whipped his head around, still on his knees, looking up at Sofia with a panic stricken expression.

“Get up! Hide in there,” she instructed, shoving him into her closet, his long and sprawling limbs barely fitting.

Not even a moment later, the sound of her dad knocking on the door cut through her and Rafe’s little moment.

Creaking open the door, her dad half entered the room.

“Hey dad,” she said trying to level her palpitating heartbeat.

“I thought you were asleep?”

“Yeah I tried but I couldn’t.”

“Oh ok.” He eyed the room, Sofia’s heart beating rapidly when his gaze hovered over the closet.

“You alright Sofia?” Her dad asked her.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Her smile felt strained and unnatural.

Her dad looked at her with a profundity that pierced through her, as if she was under a magnifying glass. “You’re worth more than all those pendejos at the club, don’t you forget that.”

Though he didn’t mention Rafe explicitly, she knew who he was talking about.

“I won’t dad.”

“Good. Now get some sleep ok? It’s late,” He said, leaving with a small smile.

Sofia let her shoulders drop once the door was closed, sighing deeply.

Rafe clambered out the closet a second after.

“You should go Rafe.” Sofia said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“What? But I thought you– I thought we–“

“I changed my mind.”

She could tell he wanted to say something, from the way his his jaw strained and his eyes hardened. But instead, he simply just nodded. Perhaps he figured out what her dad was talking about…she was worth more than that.

If Rafe had standards, well then, so did she.

“Ok I’ll head out then,” his tone was defeated, pathetic. It almost made her want to backtrack. But she didn’t.

Rafe was about to leave, loitering by the door, his back to her before he turned to face her one more time, “I’ll wait for you, yeah?”

Sofia just nodded, not knowing what he meant.

“My door is always open for you, come back soon.”

And with that he left, leaving Sofia with the memory of his lips on her thighs, and his apology lingering like mist after a storm.

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#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe and sofia #sofia outer banks #sofia obx #rafe x sofia #drew starkey #fiona palomo #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe and Sofia fanfiction #rafe and Sofia fic #rafe x Sofia fanfiction #outer banks season 4 #obx 4 #༊*·˚syren

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eternallyordinary · 18 hours ago

Text

“He Belongs to You” - Part 8

Part 1<3

Part 2<3

Part 3<3

Part 4<3

Part 5<3

Part 6<3

Part 7<3

Summary: Homelander is reminded that, while you may be a supe, you are more than human.

Warnings: violence, graphic gore, language, knife, gun, death, blood, possessive nature, age gap relationship, harassment (if i forgot anything pls lmk <3)

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ:

The night passes in a blur of heat and tangled limbs, of whispered promises and hands that roam but never take too much. He holds you tighter than he should, breathes you in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. And maybe he is.

Maybe he knows deep down that none of this is stable, that this thing between you is built on something too intense, too dangerous. But that doesn’t stop him from pulling you against his chest, keeping you there like an anchor. He makes a promise to himself he won’t leave you a single night, though he wishes he didn’t have to leave you a single second. The thought of someone hurting you makes him violent. It makes him wish he would’ve restrained himself and not made any enemies. It would’ve been worth it to know you were safe.

When you wake, it’s still dark. For a moment, you don’t move. You listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist, his body molded to yours. Your thoughts begin to trail off - at one time, he was just a baby. He was made by selfish white men who wanted to live out there fantasies through him. Super strength, super this, super that. You wonder if he ever had someone to hold him close, someone to tell him it was going to be okay. The thought makes you sad, because you don’t think so.

Homelander doesn’t sleep much. But tonight, he must have, because when you shift slightly, his grip tightens instinctively. A low, sleepy murmur vibrates against the back of your neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is thick with sleep, but there’s a warning underneath it.

You exhale softly, pressing back against him. “Nowhere. Just stretching.”

His nose nuzzles against your shoulder, his lips brushing over your skin. He doesn’t say anything else. Just holds you there, like keeping you still will somehow keep you his.

But morning comes too quickly. The world outside doesn’t stop for moments like these.

—

The city is loud. Too loud.

The streets hum with life, pedestrians moving in waves, cars honking impatiently as Homelander walks beside you, his presence effortlessly commanding even when he’s silent.

It’s strange, being out in public like this. You’re still adjusting to the reality of your new life—people recognizing you, eyes lingering too long, whispers of your name on strangers’ lips.

But with him? People don’t just stare. They cower.

Every step he takes is heavy with expectation, every movement reminding them of what he is, what he’s capable of.

And yet, the only person he’s truly focused on is you.

“Are we seriously just walking down the street like normal people?” you ask, half-joking, half-incredulous.

Homelander smirks, adjusting the gloves on his hands. “Normal, huh? Didn’t realize you were still under that illusion.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

His gaze flickers, studying your face before softening—just slightly. “I told you, my love. You wanted to be in The Seven. That means public appearances. And now,” he hums, almost smug, “people get to see exactly who you belong to.”

You don’t dignify that with a response, instead choosing to glance at the crowds forming on the sidewalks. Some brave enough to wave, others too nervous to do anything but gawk.

Everything feels… normal.

For a moment, at least.

And then—chaos.

Gunfire erupts. Screams split the air.

The street explodes into panic, people diving for cover, glass shattering, bodies hitting the pavement. Your pulse spikes, instincts kicking in as you scan for the source.

There—across the street, standing on top of a parked car, is a man in all black. Military gear. A rifle raised.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up.

You shove past the scrambling crowd, already moving.

“Hey—!” Homelander’s voice is sharp, but he doesn’t stop you.

Because he can’t.

Because you’re already sprinting.

The gunman fires, a rapid, deafening burst of bullets. You raise a hand, catching the ones meant for the civilians behind you. The force stings, the impact vibrating through your arm, but the bullets flatten harmlessly against your skin before falling to the ground.

You hear Homelander land behind you, his boots slamming into the pavement.

“Cute,” he mutters, voice tight with annoyance. “But you could’ve let me handle it.”

You don’t respond. You’re already moving again, calculating your next move. The shooter is reloading. This is your chance. You launch forward, closing the distance—

Then—pain.

A gunshot echoes.

A direct hit—to your chest.

You stumble, your breath hitching. It’s a strange sensation. Not pain, exactly. More like a dull, burning impact. The force knocks you back a step, and for a split second, you forget—forget that you’re not human, that this won’t kill you.

And for Homelander?

He sees red.

The moment you stagger, his entire body stiffens. Then, in a blur of movement, he’s gone.

And then—

Boom.

The shooter doesn’t get another second to react. Because Homelander is already on him.

The force of impact alone shatters the car beneath them. The gunman doesn’t even have time to scream before Homelander grabs him by the throat, lifting him high into the air.

You regain your footing just in time to see it happen.

The shooter—struggling, choking, clawing at the iron grip around his neck.

Homelander’s face is unreadable. Too calm. His blue eyes burn with something terrible, something borderline euphoric.

“You think you can fucking touch her?” His voice is quiet.

The gunman gurgles, his face turning red, then purple.

“Think you can just shoot at her and walk away?” Homelander tilts his head, almost curious.

And then—he tightens his grip.

The man’s windpipe collapses. His body twitches, then goes limp.

But that’s not enough.

It’s never enough.

Homelander tears his head from his shoulders like he’s pulling apart a piece of paper. Blood sprays in every direction, coating the pavement, the broken glass, the screaming onlookers.

The headless corpse slumps to the ground.

Silence.

For a moment, pure silence.

And then—a scream.

Not from the shooter.

Not from you.

From a civilian.

A woman—caught in the crossfire. Her chest torn open, her body convulsing, her blood mixing with the shooter’s.

You freeze.

No. No, no, no.

Homelander turns, his lips parting slightly as he takes in the scene. The collateral damage. The life he just ended without a second thought.

And he doesn’t care.

Not really.

But he sees the look on your face.

The horror.

The way your eyes flicker between him, the body, the blood. The way your breathing quickens—not from fear, but from disgust.

His stomach twists.

For the first time in his entire life, he wants to take it back.

“Baby,” he starts, stepping toward you, voice softer now, pleading. “She was—”

“An innocent person.” Your voice is quiet. Sharp.

He stops. Brows furrowing. He doesn’t understand.

You stare at him, at the carnage he’s left behind, at the people still crying, shaking, covered in blood.

And it hits you, all at once.

He didn’t do this for them.

He did it for you.

His priority wasn’t saving anyone. It was avenging you.

And in doing so, he killed someone who didn’t deserve it.

You inhale slowly. Steady yourself.

Then you do the only thing you can—turn away.

Homelander watches you, something unreadable flashing in his expression.

Because he’s never cared about collateral damage.

But you do.

And that?

That’s a problem.

For both of you.

—

The waiting room at Bellevue Hospital is a blur of sterile white walls and muted voices.

You sit, your leg bouncing anxiously, your phone clutched too tightly in your palm. The media’s response is already mixed—some call Homelander a hero, others say he went too far. Some commend your bravery.

You want to tell yourself it was staged, some sort of Vought initiation, but you know better.

The doctors move quickly. Too quickly. You overhear hushed voices confirming what you already feared—Mrs. Lieberman didn’t make it.

You bow your head, inhaling sharply.

Then—

“Miss?”

You look up. An ER doctor stands before you, expression unreadable. “They requested to see you.”

Your stomach tightens.

They?

The walk down the hospital hallway feels longer than it should. The rhythmic beeping of machines, the low hum of life-and-death conversations. You enter the room cautiously.

A man stands by the hospital bed, flanked by two young adults—his children.

“I—I’m sorry for your loss,” you manage, your voice small.

Before you can say anything else, the man lunges.

The knife slices into your neck.

You choke, blood spurting across the sterile linoleum floor.

“Dad!” A girl screams, trying to pull him back.

The man kneels beside you as you grab at your throat, choking. His voice shakes with fury.

“I prayed for a world without freaks like you,” he spits. “But today I learned—” he shoves the blade in again “—that God isn’t real.”

The room erupts into chaos. His son tries to restrain him, the daughter sobbing.

You try to rise, the pain sharp, hot—when suddenly—

Whoosh.

Your patriotic knight in bloodstained armor.

Even with your own blood leaking from your throat, you still roll your eyes.

Homelander doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t give a speech.

He simply lasers the man in half.

The kids scream.

“Self-defense,” Homelander shrugs. “I’ll have my boss give you a call.”

Then, he scoops you into his arms like it’s nothing, his grip possessive, his jaw tight.

“Can I get a fucking doctor in here?” he barks, striding out of the room.

Because even though you’ll survive—

He still can’t stand the sight of your blood.

—

You come back to consciousness slowly, the world creeping in piece by piece.

The first thing you notice is the sterile smell. That unmistakable mix of disinfectant and something artificial, something too clean.

The second is the beeping. A slow, steady rhythm. Your heartbeat.

And then—the weight.

A heavy presence beside you. Warmth radiating, tension coiled so tightly it vibrates through the air like static before a storm.

Homelander.

You don’t open your eyes right away. Instead, you let yourself drift in the quiet, piecing together the scattered fragments of memory. The shooting. The blood. The hospital.

The knife.

Your fingers twitch instinctively at your throat. Bandages. The skin beneath them aches, healing but sore. You remember the pain—sharp, hot, and immediate. You remember choking on your own blood, gasping for air as that man—her husband—pushed the blade deeper, cursing your existence as if your life was the one that needed to be snuffed out.

You should be dead.

If you were human, you would be.

You shift slightly, and that’s when he moves.

The weight beside you lifts, subtle but undeniable. Then—a hand. A gloved, impossibly strong hand pressing gently against your forearm.

“Hey.”

His voice is low. Tight.

You finally open your eyes.

He looks… wrong.

Not in the usual, unstable way. Not in the way he looks when he’s suppressing something violent, when his smile is stretched a little too thin, when his grip lingers just a little too long.

This is different.

His cape is gone. His gloves are still on, but his suit looks wrinkled, like he’s been sitting in that chair all night. His hair—perfectly styled, always calculated—is mussed. He looks like he’s been running his hands through it, like he’s been pacing, like he’s been thinking too much.

Like he’s been waiting.

You swallow, wincing slightly. He notices.

Immediately, his fingers ghost up to your jaw, then your throat, barely brushing against the bandages. His breath hitches so quietly that if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it.

“What—” your voice comes out hoarse, and he visibly tenses. You clear your throat. “What happened?”

His brows knit together like he hates that you have to ask. Like the fact that you don’t remember everything makes him sick.

His jaw clenches. “You died in my arms.”

You blink, the weight of his words pressing into your chest.

“That’s dramatic,” you croak.

Homelander doesn’t smile. Doesn’t move.

“You weren’t breathing,” he grits out. “You bled all over me. You—” He stops himself, sucking in a sharp breath, as if forcing his own body to obey his restraint.

You can see it—the barely contained storm brewing behind his eyes, the self-destruction he keeps locked behind clenched teeth.

You close your eyes for a second, exhaling through your nose. “I was never going to die.”

Wrong thing to say.

“That’s not the fucking point!” His voice breaks, just for a second, before he catches himself. He inhales deeply through his nose, composing himself, forcing the frustration down before it consumes him. “You weren’t scared. You weren’t worried. But I was.”

You blink. “You—”

“You don’t get it,” he cuts in, voice eerily quiet now, too controlled. “You don’t fucking get it.”

He pushes back from the chair abruptly, standing like he needs the space, like he needs distance from you. He paces. Just like he did in your apartment. Just like he did the last time he tried to punish you.

“You think because you can’t die that it doesn’t matter. That you can just throw yourself into danger, into whatever stupid fucking situation you want, and I’ll just—just watch?” His hands flex at his sides, his body vibrating with tension. “That I’m just going to sit back and—what? Let it happen? Let you get hurt?”

He laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it.

“You don’t understand what it did to me,” he continues, voice lower now, more dangerous. “Watching you bleed out in my arms. Knowing I couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.”

He stops pacing. He turns to you, eyes dark.

“I kill people all the time,” he says, flat, matter-of-fact. “I rip them apart. I turn them into fucking paste. And I don’t feel anything. It doesn’t matter. It’s not real.” His nostrils flare. “But you—”

He stops.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“But you,” he repeats, quieter. “You’re real.”

The words sit between you, heavy and fragile all at once.

You try to push yourself up, but your body protests. Homelander notices immediately, moving faster than you can register.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands against your arms, keeping you still. “Just—don’t.”

You stare at him, at the way his grip trembles against your skin, at the way his breathing is uneven.

You should say something. You should tell him you’re okay. That you’re here, that you’re alive. But you don’t know how to reassure someone like him.

“I should’ve killed him slower,” he mutters suddenly.

Your stomach twists. “Homelander—”

“I should’ve ripped his fucking skin off. Should’ve made him watch while I tore his insides apart.” His grip tightens. “I would’ve. If you weren’t bleeding out in my fucking arms, I would’ve—” He stops himself, exhaling sharply through his nose, forcing the words down. His jaw flexes. “Next time,” he murmurs. “Next time I won’t make the same mistake.”

There’s no room for argument. Not with that tone.

Your fingers twitch against the blanket, hesitating, before finally—finally—lifting to touch his cheek.

He goes still. Entirely still. Like he’s been frozen in time.

“You scared me, too,” you say softly.

His lashes flicker. His lips part slightly, breath uneven.

“I know you don’t care about collateral damage,” you continue. “I know that’s not why you did it. I know that woman didn’t mean anything to you. But she meant something to me.”

Something unreadable flickers across his expression. “Why?”

You exhale. “Because she wasn’t supposed to die. Because she had a family. Because she wasn’t supposed to be part of the mess you made.”

Silence.

Then—

His hands lift, sliding up your arms, moving over your shoulders, your neck, until his fingers gently cradle your jaw.

“You’re supposed to be mine,” he murmurs, his grip featherlight. “And you almost left me.”

Your chest tightens. “I didn’t.”

“You could have.”

“But I didn’t.”

His breath shudders. His forehead presses against yours.

“You don’t get to leave me.” His voice is quiet now. Too quiet. “You don’t.”

You should push back. Should tell him that’s not his choice to make, that you’re not his possession, that you don’t belong to him.

But you don’t.

Because the way he’s looking at you—the way he’s holding you—it’s like he’s terrified. Like losing you is the only thing that could ever make him fall apart.

And maybe, just maybe—

That terrifies you, too.

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *

#homelander #homelander fanfic #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #homelander x yn #homelander x you #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x y/n #homelander the boys #the boys fanfic #homelander x y/n #homelander x oc #yandere #the #the boys tv #the boys fandom #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy x reader

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captainsophiestark · 1 year ago

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Weirdest Day Ever

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 12 Prompt: "I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Summary: Daisy and Y/N broke up a long time ago rather than attempting long distance. Now, with a nudge from a terrigen crystal, the very thing that tore them apart might bring them back together.

Word Count: 1,694

Category: Angst, Fluff

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Thanks for the request Nicola, and I hope you like it!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The weirdest day of my life, to date, was the day I saw my ex-girlfriend on the news three times in the course of twenty-four hours, as a new superhero working for SHIELD. And until I bit into a takeout sushi roll from my favorite restaurant, I thought nothing could beat it for the number one spot.

Then I'd started transforming.

Inhumans and inhuman transformations had been in the news once or twice lately (at least one of my ex's appearances had been in connection with it), but I hadn't really thought much of it. I'd certainly never imagined I might be one of them, a latent alien gene just waiting in my genetic code. But as a chrysalis started to form around me, fear took over, and I knew what came next.

I didn't know how much time passed for me while I was totally crystalized, but when I came out of it, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. It had felt like floating, through time and space, with no anchor. My body was exhausted and a little sore, and my head hurt. I looked around, finally glancing at a clock to see about four hours had passed.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Seriously, what did somebody do after a transformation like that? What was the normal reaction?

Slowly, I got to my feet, waiting for some crazy, obvious sign of my change. I walked to a mirror on unsteady feet to find that I looked the same as before, if a little shakier than when I'd been trying to enjoy my favorite food for lunch in peace.

I frowned down at my hands, experimentally shaking one out in front of me to see if anything happened. When it didn't, I flared my hand out, fingers spread wide.

That's when the new weirdest day of my life really kicked off.

A bright purple forcefield bubble appeared around my hand, growing rapidly in size the longer I left my hand extended. I watched it in fascination, until I heard a crashing sound behind me and whipped around to find the door of my apartment busted open. A dozen people in military tactical gear broke through the door, headed right for me.

Reflexively, I flung my hands up in front of my face. With my new powers, the forcefield responded, exploding in a circle around me and knocking the strangers backwards and off their feet. My sushi clattered to the ground, and I leapt over it as I raced past the stunned soldiers and through the door.

I heard shouts from behind me followed shortly by thundering footsteps. My pulse roared in my ears, beating a million miles an hour as I burst into the stairwell and ran down as fast as possible. I had no idea what my plan was, other than 'get away', which felt like a decent first step.

I barreled through the lobby of my apartment building and into the street, the people chasing me not far behind. I staggered a little, unsteady on my feet, more tired than I'd normally be thanks to the use of my new powers. I glanced over my shoulder, then flung my hands up to defend myself again as shots—hopefully nonlethal—fired at me. They bounced off my forcefield, but each hit still felt like a punch in the gut with the effort it took to deflect.

I screamed, flinging my arms out harder and farther away from me, sending another wave of purple force pushing my attackers back. It nearly knocked me to the ground, too, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep running.

I staggered around a corner and into an alleyway, hoping to lose them by going off the beaten path. I realized after a few steps, however, that I'd also just walked into a dead end. I turned around to go back the way I'd come, only to have my exit blocked by the soldier-looking people.

I stumbled backwards, almost tripping over my own two feet and going down. I managed to catch myself at the last second, heart pounding as my attackers advanced. I flung my hands out, but even the smallest forcefield had me seeing spots now.

I was trapped. No way out. And then, my day doubled down on the weirdness.

Like a fever-induced hallucination, my ex-girlfriend Daisy Johnson, formerly known as Skye, landed in front of me in a full superhero pose. She stared down my attackers, who hesitated at the sight of her, long enough for her to level a blast of her own superpower and send them flying backwards. She turned to me with a grin, and when I swayed a little on my feet this time it wasn't just because I was dizzy.

"Hey. Long time no see," said Daisy. She started walking towards me and I just watched her, still not totally convinced this wasn't a dream.

We'd only broken up because she was taking off with SHIELD, and I was moving across the country for work. We'd decided long distance with spies probably wasn't a good idea. To have her magically reappear in my life, right when some crazy latent superpower had been awakened in me... it felt too good to be true.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

I shook my head as Daisy reached me, putting her hands on my arms and gently squeezing to try to ground me back to reality. It didn't really work.

"It's okay," she said, glancing over my shoulder before stepping even closer to me. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you out of here."

I nodded. Despite not seeing Daisy for the past few years, I trusted her. I knew she'd get me out of here, that I could feel safe with her. As a result, the adrenaline quickly faded, and my light-headed exhaustion only got worse.

"It's... good to see you again," I muttered, giving Daisy the best smile I could muster. She returned with a confused frown, and I thought I saw her mouth my name, but the sound didn't make it past the encroaching blackness. The next thing I knew, I was toppling towards Daisy, the rest of the world completely slipping away.

****************

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the splitting pain in my head. I frowned before I even opened my eyes, memories of the events right before I blacked out only making my headache worse. I heard a snort, and my eyes flew open.

Daisy. Sitting on the edge of the bed I was laying in, looking at me with a fond smile. She'd swooped back in to save my life, and she looked absolutely fantastic doing it.

"Out of all the reactions of Inhumans we've saved, scowling before even waking all the way up might be my favorite," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I sat up, my heart racing faster at the sight of her.

"You... saved me," I breathed. She nodded a little, her worried eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"No, Daisy, oh my gosh," I scooted forward, unable to resist the pull towards her. After everything that had happened, to have her suddenly back in my life after I'd literally been attacked? I didn't want to waste another minute without her. "You saved me. You came at the perfect time, please don't apologize. I- I'm so happy to see you again."

She smiled at me, the small, soft smile that had been reserved just for me for so long when we were together, and I found myself leaning forward, pulled towards Daisy by some gravitational force. I brought my hand up to the back of her head, tangling it in her hair as I kissed her softly, every happy moment from our lives together rushing back. After a second, she pulled away, a rueful look on her face.

"Y/N-"

"Oh my God. Daisy, I am so, SO sorry. I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have just kissed you like that, I-"

"Whoa." She held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks before I could really get rolling and rambling. I stared at her with wide eyes, and she gently took one of my hands in hers before giving me a soft smile. "It's okay. I missed you too, and when you kissed me... well, I'm not saying I didn't like it. But we haven't seen each other in a while, and you just survived a really, really big trauma that's gonna take some time to process. I think it might be a good idea if we take things a little slower."

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. But Daisy? I do still want to head that way, if you do, of course. You know, back towards... something like what we had before."

She sighed. "I want that. For sure, I want that. But maybe you should take a little more time to process, make sure it's actually something you want and not just the delayed adrenaline dump or something-"

"Daisy." I shifted a little on the bed, taking my turn to stop her worry train before it got rolling, taking both her hands more firmly in mine. "Honestly, while forcefields will probably be a sick power, this whole experience has completely sucked. Every single minute of it... except for the fact that it's brought me back to you. So... if you're sure, I'm sure."

A smile steadily grew on Daisy's face, mirrored on my own until we were positively beaming at each other. SHIELD had been the thing to tear us apart, but now, it had brought us back together. There was some interesting kind of poetry to that, but I didn't care enough to analyze it. All that mattered to me was that Daisy and I would be side by side, working through all the weirdness together, today and for every new weirdest day that was sure to come our way in the future.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

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gamergirl-06 · 2 months ago

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Left 4 Dead (Part 2) (Dead centre-streets)

“Alright now, everyone well rested?” Coach asked everyone.

There was a collective wave of ‘yes’s’ before he turned back to table with guns, ammo and med-kits.

“Ok then, everyone refill in ammo or grab another weapon and make sure to take a med-kit cause we are going to need them.”

I grab a silenced SMG and Ellis does the same “a’right we gonna be unstoppable”. I laugh making Ellis smile ear to ear.

“Let’s go” Nick said making me and Ellis look at him and he walked passed us giving us a look.

Geez why did he look so..jealous?

We grab a med-kit each and head out the door and head our way towards the building down the street killing common infected.

I shot one running at Ellis and he sent me a nod and smile. We hear coughing and we look to the left behind the bushes and see a smoker and shoot it.

It explodes in a cloud of smoke and Ellis says “Nice shot Makayla”

“Thank you El” I smile and we high five.

I didn’t notice Nick watching me as we did so and his face contorted into a frown of displeasure.

He watches me as I walk beside Rochelle and start a conversation about the pre-apocalypse times.

“So Ro, what did you do before shit hit the fan” I ask

She smiled and said “well I worked for news station, I was an assistant doing coffee runs for the main anchors but then they asked me to report on the green flu that was killing everyone so I came here but everything was chaotic so that’s what led me here with you guys”

“Christ, i was a student who was planning on going to college here but then the flu outbreak happened. That is how I got stuck here” i tell her.

“Well I’m just glad I’m not the only woman left on earth” she laughed causing me to giggle.

Nick sighed before turning his attention back in front of him

Nicks POV

What was wrong with me? Why am i getting these feelings towards Makayla? No Nick you do not like her your the most important person on your mind but she is really beautiful maybe i do like her

End pov

“Yeah, i think we may be the only woman left on earth” I say “but at least I have you”.

We walk into the building and down the stairs and when we get to the bottom I find some cardboard boxes and a Molotov on top.

I grab it and put it on my belt for later and continued to inspect some melee weapons.

“Some more melee weapons over here if anyone wants them”

Coach turns to the door diagonal to the stairs and opens it and turns back to us “c’mon let’s keep movin’”

We make our way past a truck which had a pipe Bomb and some more guns and Ellis picked up the pipe bomb.

He ends up stepping into pace with me before saying “did I ever tell ya about the time my buddy Keith-“

He is cut off by Nick

“Ellis let’s play a little quiet game shall we, first one to talk loses”

I looked at Nick. Despite the odd feelings I was starting to get for him I didn’t really like the way he treated the others, Especially Ellis.

“Hey Nick can you not be an asshole for once?” I ask

He gives me a smug grin and said “let me see…nope don’t think I can”

“Can you two cut it out before you draw attention” coach said.

I growled and walk away before it turns into a fight and Nick just simply laughs after me but I ignore it and move on.

Walking through the bushes we find some common infected wondering about and Ellis decides to use his pipe bomb as a distraction.

“Can use this pipe bomb to distract them” he said. Everyone gives him a nod and he presses the timer throwing it as it beeps.

The infected instantly cleared out and started going crazy for the bomb and then it exploded killing them all.

Heading over to a ladder we climb up over and down to the other side and kill any remaining infected in our path before heading inside and up the stairs to our left.

I gasp as see an assortment of guns on the table with a shitload of ammo.

Grabbing a shotgun to replace my SMG, I grin “oh yeah baby”

The others chuckle as coach picks up a pump shotgun, Ellis picks up a sub machine gun, Rochelle chooses a combat rifle and Nick chooses the AK-47.

Ellis opened the medical cabinet and took 2 bottles of pills handing one to me.

“Here you go, this may come in handy” he said

“Thanks” I said has I out the pills in my belt next to the Molotov.

We head out onto a landing and see a price of broken railing and we jump down into some porter potties and land in the ground.

Some infected became aware of our presence and ran towards us but we shot them one by one until there were none left as we continued up the stairs making our way around a building and going up another flight of stairs before making our way across to the guns shop.

We walk down the stairs and have infected waiting for us but I kill them off with my sword I found

We walk into whittakers gun shop and our jaws drop at all the different kinds of guns

“Holy shit” I said

Nick turned to look at me and have a glare but I could see the small smile on his face.

I walk over to pick up an MK-47 and smile “oh this feels great.

I look at the others who had picked a gun, seeming happy with their choice.

We then heard a voice

“Usually when looters break into my store I’d have them shit right were they stand” then a moment where he was yelling at what sounded to be an infected making Ellis laugh.

“But if you go across to the store and find me some cola then you can keep the guns”

The door opens infront of us and we walk grab a laser sight before heading up and walking to the store.

The doors opened and an alarm went of alerting the horde and Nick mumbled

“Well this is great…”

“Ellis go get the cola we will cover you”

He nods and runs to the back of the store while we cover him and he comes back moments later

“I got the cola let’s go!”

We run covering our team out from all direction as we flew straight to the stairs and to the door to our the cola in.

“Put the cola in the slot” Whittaker said

Next moment there is a Lou’s crash and the tanker blocking our path was now cleared up

“Be safe out there and god bless you all��

“You to Whittaker” I said

We head down towards the unblocked path steeping over debris and turning left into the mall parking lot which had infected scattered about.

We quietly make our way through but not before a spotter came out of no where but Rochelle quickly shot it as it fell in a pool of its spit.

Once everyone was in coach shut the door and made sure it was properly locked before we decided to rest up before the next move.

And this is an early Christmas present to all you l4d2 fans so enjoy

Also Nick won the poll so I’m ending up with him..if you have anything in mind on how this plays out (as long as it matches the story of the game) then your welcome ideas are appreciated.

#nick l4d2 #ellis l4d2 #left4dead2xreader #coach l4d2 #rochelle l4d2 #l4d2

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timelessmulder · 4 months ago

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31 Days of horror day 19: Hunter

i am very behind. i am playing catch up. anyway here is a little thing with my monster of the week hunter, russ, a hobo from the 1920s/30s (this takes place in uuuh 1925)

Workmen liked to talk.

They talked on breaks. On quiet nights between shifts, before they retired to bed or their families or boarded the next train out of town.

Russ listened more than he talked. Of course, inevitably the other workers would take notice, and they would needle him for a story or two, and he could regale with the best of them. The places he'd been, the people he'd met. Tall tales, if that's what the others were after. But in most cases he would sit, and he would listen.

The tracks had spat him out at a dime a dozen dusty little town with a few dozen residents and a handful of shops along a street not yet paved. It was the sort of place with eternal odd jobs, everyone needing help with this and that but no long term work; it was tucked in the forest, but a disaster had ground the lumber work to a halt. The folks there talked about needing some new building or another: a new town hall, a new church, a bigger school house that the residents couldn't afford their children attending. But those drifted from person to person like a rumor, never to manifest.

Russ, freshly seventeen, still a tangle of limbs yet to be filled out, sat with fellow laborers on break. They'd been hired to help repair the rundown post office whose decades old roof had finally went from sagging to fully broken. The work had proven more extensive than initially believed, one day stretching into two when it was discovered rot had extended into the walls.

"Y'all heard about that disaster?" one of the men, a wiry hobo who went by Snag said. He'd been in town for a few months by then, and running the tracks a full decade longer than Russ. His hair was neat and clothes recently darned; rumor was he'd been flirting with the local tailor's daughter, a few years widowed.

An older man, square framed and leathery faced with bristly gray beard streaked with brown, spat. Bill had wandered the country longer than either of them - had seen more years on the road than Russ had in his life - only bunkering down when the influenza hit; he'd been lucky enough to not catch it, but safer to get antsy than roll into a brand new town. The man eyed Snag, and said, "The disaster that every twenty-somethin' says was some act of god?"

"It's a fun story!"

"Superstitious folk in a superstitious town." Bill rolled a loose stone under the toe of his boot, kicking it toward a far tree where it collided with the gnarled trunk. "I don't know if you've noticed but most of this town is Irish." He glanced at Russ, with his pale skin and freckled face and russet brown hair that shone red when the light hit it just right. "No offense, Rusty."

Russ scoffed, a sound close enough to a laugh. "I'm not that Irish," he said. "My eyes are brown." He rocked on the stump he'd taken for a seat, grinding the heel of a boot that had seen better days into soft dirt. "I haven't heard the story though."

"That's right, you just rolled in a few days ago. Still trust a kid as green as you more than Snag when it comes to swinging a hammer." Russ bit back a retort that he'd been on his own for a few years now, thank you very much, but he bit down on it. Meanwhile, Snag scoffed in his indignation. Bill waved his hand at him, swatting away his annoyance. "Whatever, Snag, you can tell the kid."

***

There was a monster, that lurked in the woods around the town. Something ancient, older than the land itself, pulsing in the roots of the trees and stirring in the underbrush. The work of the lumbermen had disturbed it, churning the earth around its sleeping body until the world split beneath their boots. Healthy trees had shaken loose from their anchors, falling to crush the men too stunned to move out of the way. It had been a warning, the townsfolk said, and they were wise enough to heed the creaking voice of the forest.

When work had stopped for the day, and the sun had just kissed the horizon, Russ made his way to the woods. He had his pack slung over his shoulder and notebook in hand, old and tattered and carrying all he had learned about beings and items that most people ignored. His tread was light, much like a hunter tracking a deer, and his ears were sharp, searching for any snapping twig that whispered danger. Shadows reached their grasping fingers across the leaf littered ground, dappled by the dregs of sunlight permeating the leaves.

Russ watched his step, wary of any hidden root that may catch him. Perhaps any equipment had been left behind some decades before, retaken by the wilderness. The last thing he needed was a turned ankle, or worse.

The trees thickened. The world darkened, a deep black that swaddled the terrain and the trees and the creatures creeping within. Tucked between some old work clothes was a flashlight, and while it danced at the edge of his thoughts, Russ didn't want to stop and paw through his belongings. There was still enough light from the stars pricked in the blanket of night sky and waning moon to see. He pressed on, eyes narrowed.

The further he got from the town, and the more sure he became that he should turn back, a profound silence took hold of the air. The night time band of owls and crickets grew more hushed, trickling into nothing, as if they were holding their breath. It was not an oppressive silence, he thought, now keenly aware of the thump of his boots and swish of his jeans. A church with its holy reverence, pulling at the air with its grand weight.

Something in that inky black was watching him. He could feel it, prickling along his back, and he faltered. He slowed. And he stopped. A soft breeze shook the canopy of leaves, a soft sigh of a noise. Russ clutched his backpack to himself, clumsy fingers finding the compartment where he kept his knife. He turned on his heel in a slow and steady arc, alert and searching in the deep and empty dark.

A set of eyes peered at him from a tangle of roots. They were large, but not impossibly so. Large in the way of a watching cat, slits staring out from the amber glow of its irises. It watched Russ, unmoving, unblinking, and there was something intelligent about its gaze. Something ancient, with a question more than a challenge what will you do now? Russ' fingers curled around the worn canvas of his bag, swallowing against the knot tying itself in his throat.

The air around him shifted. It rippled with an unseen mass that made Russ take a step back. "'M sorry," he said to the creature still watching him. His voice cracked in the way all boys' voices do at that age, but there was no room for its accompanying embarrassment, too consumed was he by the sense he had stepped somewhere he didn't belong. "I'll uhm. I'll be going."

He made a slow and careful way back to the town. He did not pause to search for his flashlight until he heard the first chirping of crickets, though he was sure those curious eyes had followed after him. Just to make sure he left this place, whatever it was. He swept its beam in a steady arc and did little more than startle a barred owl perched in a nearby tree, revealing nothing of the thing that stalked behind him.

The town still hummed with life, when he crossed the barrier between forest and civilization. It was like the piercing of a veil, the woods almost reluctant to relinquish its hold on him. He scrambled out of the shadows and into the flickering glow of the town's handful of streetlamps and the houses that were still awake. Switching off his flashlight, fear melted away into feeling foolish. It was just an animal, he told himself, letting the flashlight cool down before being put away as he made his way to the small inn where he was staying (not in exchange for work, for once, the innkeeper's daughter had batted her eyes at him and gave a tilted smile when she gave him a place to board. He still wasn't sure what she wanted in turn). He'd wandered into the woods on the heels of a tale. He knew things existed, had seen enough for himself to know that.

Maybe the woods of the town had nothing to show for it. Maybe it didn't want to give up its secrets.

Russ did not return to the woods to investigate. Not in moonlight nor sunlight. He didn't speak to the others about going in and what he felt, what he saw. He finished the work and took the meager pay, and he hopped the next train he could.

#31doh2024 #31 days of horror #bat writes #horror

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braveclementine · 8 months ago

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Surprise?

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

"My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting but um, not Aunt Peggy." Sharon said as her and Steve walked through the hotel. "She bought me my first thigh holster."

"Very practical." Steve almost laughed. He wondered how old she was on that day and imagined a little toddler running around with a thigh holster on.

"And stylish." Sharon said. She pressed the up button and turned to face Steve.

"CIA has you stationed over here, now?" He asked.

"Berlin. Joint Terrorism Task Force." Sharon answered.

"Right. Right. Sounds fun."

"I know, right?"

"I've been meaning to ask you." Steve said, trying to fill the awkward pauses between. "When you were spying on me from across the hall-"

"You mean when I was doing my job."

"Did Peggy know?" Steve asked.

Sharon sighed, "She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you." The elevator door dinged so that it opened for her, "Thanks for walking me back." She said.

"Sure." Steve said. He wanted to kiss her, but Sam interrupted them.

"Steve. There's something you gotta see."

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"A bomb hidden inside a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna." The news anchor said as Sharon paced behind Sam and Steve, talking to someone on the phone.

"Whose coordinating?"

"More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Solder."

Steve felt the realization hit him, and then the guilt.

"The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations."

"I have to go to work." Sharon whispered.

And then the hope.

They were going to find Bucky.

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"Yeah?" Natasha's voice spoke into Steve's ear as he called her.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked immediately.

"Uh, yeah, thanks. I got lucky." There was a pause and then she said, "I know how much Barnes means to you, I really do. Stay home. You'll only make this worse. For all of us. Please."

"Are you saying you'll arrest me?"

"No. Someone will. If you interfere. That's how it works now."

"If he's this far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in." Steve said heavily. He looked over at where he could see Nat, talking into her phone.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the one least likely to die trying." And then he hung up and walked into the café where Sam was eating.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" Sam asked and nodded his head, "Might have a point."

"He'd do it for me." Steve said.

"1945, maybe. I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me."

Sharon joined them at the bar, "Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its' noise. Except for this." She quickly slid along a white packet. "My boss expects a briefing pretty much now so that's all the head start you're gonna get."

"Thank you." Steve said sincerely.

"And you're gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight." Sharon said, before pushing away from the bar counter and leaving.

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

Elizabeth and Bucky were in the fruit stands. Bucky was wearing a sweatshirt and a baseball cap, his metal hand covered by a glove. She had grabbed some limes and Bucky was now speaking Romanian in a really hot accent and she loved listening to his voice.

He had such a nice voice. It reminded her of Loki surprisingly on a spectrum of voice ranges. In reality, they did have with different voices. But they were both eloquent and nice to listen to.

After they had paid, Elizabeth slipped her arm through Bucky's to act like they were a couple and she let him lead. He paused in the street and instead of heading back to the apartment, starting heading towards a newspaper stand.

"What's wrong?" She asked, seeing that the man who had left the newspaper stand was running down the street now. She grabbed the newspaper on the counter and saw with horror that he was being blamed for a bombing attack on the UN.

"Shit." Elizabeth cursed. "Bucky, let's get back to the apartment now." She pulled out her phone, "Y/N, you see me? Where? Okay, I see you. Hurry we need to get back to the apartment now."

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"I'll make sure the apartment is safe." Bucky said, when he saw the door was open. He looked over at the two of you. Elizabeth nodded hesitantly, bending down so that she could pull out her shuriken's and knives. You pulled your pistol from the holster and waited.

It was a minute before you heard a familiar voice ask, "Do you know me?"

"You're Steve." Bucky said. "I read about you in a museum."

You hurried inside and stopped when you saw Steve there all suited up, Elizabeth next to you.

Steve looked at you. "Y/N? Elizabeth? What-"

Elizabeth hurried to Bucky's side. She had a faint smile on her face and nudged Bucky playfully. "Liar." Bucky smiled just a little.

"I know you're nervous," Steve said slowly, though he seemed rather confused now, "and you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying."

"I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore." Bucky said.

"He's telling the truth." Elizabeth said quickly. "Steve he hasn't left this apartment anywhere except for groceries in the past week."

"And how do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Because we've been here with him the entire time. When the UN building blew up, we were eating Ice-cream and watching the Sound of Music on his crappy little TV." Elizabeth answered, slightly angrily.

"A week!" Steve nearly shouted.

"Surprise." You said weakly, remembering how you said you wouldn't go looking for Steve's soulmate without him.

Oops.

"Okay, well the people who think you did are coming right now." Steve said quickly. You released the safety on your handgun. "And they're not planning on taking you alive."

"Well they can just try on getting through me." Elizabeth said heatedly.

"That's smart." Bucky said instead. "Good strategy."

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck." Steve said. You could hear the footsteps pounding outside.

Bucky sighed heavily. "It always ends in a fight."

"You pulled me from the river." Steve said angrily as Bucky took off his glove. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Elizabeth shook her head and muttered 'Liar' to you again.

"Yes, you do." Steve muttered.

A grenade came through the window, which Steve hit with his shield. It bounced off the window and Elizabeth kicked it towards Steve, who slammed his shield over it. Bucky hoisted the mattress to block the next shots and you leaned around, firing and knocking someone off the nearby building. A battering ram hit Bucky's door.

Bucky slammed the kitchen table that you had been so used to eating at, at the door, which jammed it shut.

One of the men came through the window. Elizabeth tackled, him getting her legs around his neck and choked him out, though she didn't kill him. Bucky punched the second one straight in the face.

"Buck stop." Steve said as they worked together to kick someone out of the room. "You're gonna kill someone."

Bucky slammed Steve to the ground, punching his hand into the floor. "I'm not gonna kill anyone." He grabbed his backpack that he had hidden there, throwing it out the window. Bullets started to spray. Steve grabbed Bucky, trying to block the two of them from the bullets, while you grabbed Elizabeth and threw the two of you behind the wall.

Bucky grabbed Steve and threw him at one of the soldiers so the two of them crashed through the window on Bucky's balcony. You watched as he used his metal hand to block the bullets, before smashing the man into his bookshelf.

Elizabeth joined Bucky as he smashed down his own front door and started to fight his way down the stairs. Meanwhile, you jumped through the window, kicking the gun from the man's hands, helping Steve to his feet.

"Me and you are going to have a talk after this." Steve said angrily, breaking the rest of the window to get back in.

"Yep." You muttered unhappily.

You sighed as Steve decided to just jump entire stairwells instead of running down the stairs like a normal person. Then you saw that both Bucky and Elizabeth were jumping stairwells too. Elizabeth looked like a fricking gymnast as she swung from the railings to the next floor.

Okay, so you were going to run down the stairs like a not normal person apparently.

By the time you got to where Steve was, he was just leaping off the building like a fucking moron, landing on the other building.

"Aw c'mon." You groaned.

"Hold on cause there's no seatbelts." Elizabeth sighed, before turquoise mist wrapped around your body. You screamed as you were catapulted to the other side of the roof. You landed on the cat man, knocking him to the ground. You rolled off quickly, shaking.

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" You screamed as Elizabeth launched herself over, rolling.

"Love you too bestie." Elizabeth sang.

And then, they were jumping off that roof too, just one after the other. Elizabeth groaned this time. "You know, I only have so much magic."

"I want Pietro." You whined as she lowered the two of you gently to the ground. You caught sight of two motorcycles. "On the other hand."

Elizabeth glanced over. "We need permission, right?"

"What would Loki do?" You asked as a joke, the two of you racing for the bikes.

"He'd totally steal these. Definitely makes it right." Elizabeth joked and the two of you took off on the bikes.

You sped in and out of the cars, finding the on ramp to get under the tunnel where the others were just running past cars like dumbasses. Seriously, they could get hit!

"Listen." Elizabeth shouted over to you as the two of you attempted to catch up. You watched Steve steal a car and nodded your head in approval. "I need you to block the cat man. I'm going to try and get Bucky on my bike. I think if I can get us away from civilization, I can get him to Asgard. Once we're safe there, I can work on his mind more. Loki can help me as well."

"Okay." You said, trying to get the AR-12 out of your own backpack while you drove. You positioned it over the handle bars and shot out the tires on another car. "The cat man seems powerful though, I'm not sure how that's going to go."

"Hopefully Sam and Steve join in on the help." Elizabeth said, driving off onto your left, speeding through more cars. You quickly pulled up, passing Steve in his car, which the cat man had just jumped on.

Elizabeth had almost pulled up level with Bucky, before he stole a bike from somebody while they were speeding past him, somehow straddling it in midair and taking off. Seriously, it was like he had super strength- oh wait.

Elizabeth was riding level with him now, the two of them looking like they were racing each other. She was shouting stuff at him, and you decided to focus more on yourself now, reaching behind you, trying to shoot the cat man off of Steve's car.

Suddenly, the cat man grabbed Sam while Bucky planted an explosive. The cat man then leaped off of Sam, popping the back wheel of Bucky's tire. He went down and Elizabeth flipped off her bike to stop and get back to Bucky. The Cat man threw her away easily. You flipped off your bike- on accident unlike Elizabeth- as your tires hit rocks. You tumbled off and rolled, while Steve ran and tackled the cat man.

Elizabeth was by Bucky's side in an instant, shuriken's in her hands. You limped to their side, holding your pistol and AK. Cars and sirens surround you on all sides.

All of a sudden, Rhodey dropped from the sky, gun out, and lifted his hands. You groaned. Party over. "Stand down, now." Steve put his shield in his holster, raising his hands, "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal."

"Leave him alone." Elizabeth snapped as they shoved Bucky to the floor. They shoved her to her knees as well, arresting her too. You let the handcuffs be put on you easily and your eyes widened when the cat mask was taken off.

"Your highness." Rhodey said.

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 year ago

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Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ updated 10/26

18+ only | rocket x oc | 17/26 Chapters | WIP | Word Count: pending.

girl falls first; racoon falls harder.

His head is down, and she can see the sullen set of his shoulders. Jolie sets Groot onto the floor gently, and he gallops over to his adopted father and climbs onto a couple crates next to Rocket to watch him while he works. Should she say good morning? Will that just annoy him more? She’s hurt and scared, yes, and even a little annoyed in her more practical moments. But she reminds herself, again, that what this is really a result of - probably, mostly - is Rocket being frightened or wounded, and she doesn’t want him to be alone in that. But he doesn’t exactly look receptive right now. She chews her lip, then winces and shakes her head, and tries to distract herself by doing a quick check on the kitchen cabinets. Most of the dishware is anchored down in the built-in, padded racks that come standard-issue in ships these days, but a few of the plates are chipped on the edges, and one of the new glasses is cracked down the middle. She tosses the glass into the compressor. All in all, the damage is less than she’d expected, and most things are salvageable. She hesitates, then heads to the hold, peering out into the forest, toward the spaceship Ego left behind. Rocket doesn’t spare her a glance.

[NEW 10/26] ✧･ﾟ:*Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

lots of angst. healing isn't linear but rocket is in a much better position to come back from the consequences of his actions now than he was way back when they were on conjunction. unfortunately there's never enough time for these things, is there ~ ♡

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut. let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon

*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice.in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be .in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI.

Chapter XXII.

Chapter XXIII.

Chapter XXIV.

Chapter XXV.

Chapter XXVI.

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short/drabbly, silly fluff.

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

#rocket raccoon fanfiction #window across the galaxy #rocket x oc #eventual smut #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #rocket raccoon #angst with a happy ending #rocket raccoon x oc #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #rocket x you #romance #ao3 author

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melon-fodder · 5 months ago

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Tw: natural disasters/hurricane

I don’t know exactly how to put this into words, and I have to draw upon my own experience, but anyway

As someone who has gone through a catastrophic hurricane several years ago (Harvey), I have seen the aftermath and complete devastation. I’m not sure if I even have followers in the regions hit by Helene, and if I do, I doubt you have the means to access the internet, but maybe someone will see. Maybe a worried loved one.

I am sending y’all all the positive energy I can.

In hurricanes like this—really any disaster—even if you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t lose property or family, watching it all unfold around you and being completely helpless and trapped, is so traumatizing. So much worse for those who do suffer losses.

During Harvey, we kept our power for a few days before it went out, and the whole time we had the news on. I will never, ever forget hearing the anchor say that first responders could not get to everyone, to stop calling emergency numbers if you weren’t in chest deep water. Chest deep. I won’t forget watching the interview of the lady who had lost everything in Katrina only to lose it all again decades later in Houston. I won’t forget officials telling a neighborhood to evacuate because they had to open a nearby dam in a controlled way before it was destroyed. I will never forget the recordings of people begging for help because they had elderly parents and young children in a flooding home, the images of people on rooftops waving for help.

To those of you weathering Helene, you will never forget this, and I am so incredibly sorry for that.

However, you will never forget the way your community will come together afterward. People you’ve never spoken to will help you clean up, will push totaled cars out of the streets, will pick up debris and offer what they can be it food, power from a generator, clothes.

And, it’ll take a long time to come back from this. A long, long time.

But you will get through it. So please take care of yourselves. Please fight. Please survive.

#Harvey was the first hurricane I experienced that scared me #and I had been through several before #it was the first one that made me feel helpless #I remember my mom waking my brother and me up at like 4 one morning #after watching waters rise all around us #and tell us that it was time to start gathering things #pick things up from ground level and get bags ready #the look of fear and defeat on her face will stick with me forever #the time lapse video of the waters rising downtown so quickly #we weren’t hit by the wind; it was the water that got us #and it got us so so bad #my TikTok has been full of Helene footage and it is heartbreaking and triggering #and it just takes me back to 2017 #to watching the city I grew up in get completely decimated #coastal towns wiped off the map #nature is a beast #but so are humans

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galaxyedging · 2 years ago

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Jackson!Joel Miller x gn!reader

A short drabble on grief.

Healing

The day fades away, casting a glow like dying embers. Stars swirl up into the sky like smoke as the night draws in to pull back the veil cloaking them. The cool, crisp air carries the remnants of dinner time, sticks to your ribs stew and warm, sweet apple pie. The metallic creak of the swing keeps the time like a metronome. The outside world is a million miles away.

Its distance lets you slip through the cracks of your memories. The cracks allow them to slot together. Bringing old memories right alongside the new ones. A thought weaves the two together.

I could take those leftovers to Mom and Dad.

It's a brief slip made by a wary mind. It only flashes through for a second but a second is all it needs to shake you. They were back. They were with you. Alive and well. In a blink they are ripped away again. Taking with them the fragile peace you had made with the past. The unrest in your mind travels to your body as you shift in Joel's embrace. Joel feels the shift in you, no longer do you melt into the warmth of his love. The tension that was ever present in your body outside of these walls drags you from him. With no danger in sight he knows that the anxiety comes from within you. With one look of your tear glazed eyes, he knows.

He knows how it hits like a freight train. They'll be rounding up the kids for movie night and he'll forget to go get Sarah. When he sits at the table with you and Ellie there's a moment where he expects Sarah to fill the last seat. He knows how deep those slips cut.

"Where were you, honey?" His words skim your temple as he pulls you close again. The weight of his arms anchoring you to the present.

"Home. Before the outbreak. Thinking about taking the leftovers to my folks." A huff of a self pitying laugh escapes you.

Joel's guidance is as gentle as it has been since you returned to Jackson. His pace is unhurried much like how you never hurried him to settle in Jackson and he never hurried you for more than friendship. He leads you to the far corner of his yard, opposite Ellie's small home. In the corner obscured by the snow covered branches of sleeping perennials, is a small patch of raised ground. It's bordered by large stones. Two piles of smaller stones are stacked with reverence in the middle. The snow hits the floor with a muted thump as Joel moves the branches aside.

"This is where I tell Sarah all the stupid ways that I miss her. Like when I burn food and she's not there to harangue me about it." His short laugh clouds above his head.

Looking to the second Cairn you ask "Who is this one for?"

"Ellie's mom. Not that Ellie comes to it much." An old wound of a different kind throbs in you at his words.

For a moment you thought he would say 'for Tess'. A woman you never met, that you'd only heard about in Joel's sleep until you spoke to Ellie. It was strange to be jealous of a dead woman but part of you is. The jealousy twists with guilt in your gut like a drill. That wound eases as Joel hands you a wide, flat stone. His shoulder is firm at yours as he shows you how to work. Occasionally, his hands guide yours with weathered experience.

The embers of the day are well and truly snuffed out by the time you have finished. The yard light just about reaches your quiet corner. A light of a different kind now stands in the darkness. A beacon of love, old and new. A memorial to your parents and the love that persists for them, made with the love Joel has for you.

The darkness that serves as a blank space to project old memories onto is filled with old memories of a different kind that night while the heat of Joel's bare chest warms the last of the chill from your cheek. You see your first meeting with Joel. As the stranger passing through shakes your hand for a second or two longer than most. You see the awkwardly shy wave of a neighbour as he moves in across the street. You see the flicker of desire in the eyes of a good friend who longs for more. You see the lips of a new lover parted in bliss with each shaky exhale. You see the face of a partner who shares the depth of your love. Most importantly, you see not only the past but a future.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #tlou au #joel miller x gn!reader #galaxyedgingwrites

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mochis-things · 3 days ago

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Chapter 2.13 - New York, USA

The flight to New York was long and exhausting, but at this point, Sunwoo had grown used to the constant movement. By the time they landed at JFK Airport, it was already late in the evening, and the fatigue was evident on everyone’s faces. The cold air outside was a sharp contrast to the breezy West Coast weather they had just left behind, and Winter immediately pulled her jacket tighter as they stepped out of the airport.

New York City was alive, even at this hour. The streets were bustling, neon signs flashing, the energy of the city so different from the places they had visited so far. Sunwoo made sure everyone got into the vans safely before instructing the driver to head straight to their hotel in Manhattan. The ride was relatively quiet, aside from Ningning pressing her face against the window, taking in the towering skyline with fascination. Karina leaned her head back, eyes closed, while Giselle and Winter mindlessly scrolled through their phones.

The hotel lobby was grand, almost intimidatingly so, with high ceilings and a massive chandelier casting a golden glow across the marble floor. Sunwoo handled check-in quickly, distributing key cards and giving his usual speech about security and schedules. By now, the members barely listened, nodding out of habit before dragging themselves toward the elevators. They were exhausted, but he knew the moment their heads hit the pillows, jet lag would keep at least a few of them awake.

Sunwoo’s room was a few doors down from the members, and as much as he wanted to collapse onto the bed, he had work to do. He sat at the desk, laptop open, emails flooding in from different time zones. His fingers moved quickly, replying to urgent messages from staff, confirming last-minute details for the upcoming media schedules, and adjusting itineraries to accommodate the unpredictable nature of New York traffic. Just as he was about to close his laptop, a knock on the door interrupted him.

He opened it to find Giselle standing there, bundled in a hoodie, her hair slightly messy from travel. She held up a plastic bag. “Couldn’t sleep. Found a bodega around the corner and got snacks. Want some?”

Sunwoo glanced at the bag, then at her. “You went out?”

She grinned. “Relax, I had security with me.”

Sighing, he stepped aside, letting her in. She made herself comfortable on the couch, pulling out a pack of chips and tossing one toward him. He caught it with a raised brow but didn’t refuse. The two sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the city faint through the thick hotel windows.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Giselle said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Do what?”

“Keep up with all of this. The schedules, the stress, us.”

Sunwoo leaned back in his chair. “It’s my job.”

She snorted. “Yeah, but you actually care. Most managers would just do the bare minimum.”

He didn’t have an immediate response to that. It wasn’t something he thought about often—why he pushed himself so hard, why he took their well-being so personally. Maybe it was because he knew how overwhelming their lives could get, how the pressure never really let up. He wasn’t just their manager; in some ways, he had become their anchor in all this chaos.

Giselle tossed another chip into her mouth. “Anyway, just wanted to say thanks.”

Sunwoo scoffed lightly. “You’re only saying that because I let you sit here and eat snacks.”

She laughed. “Maybe.”

The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sunwoo realized moments like this were rare—the in-between moments where everything slowed down, where they weren’t idols and he wasn’t their manager, just people navigating this insane journey together. Eventually, Giselle yawned, standing up and stretching. “Alright, I should try to sleep before Karina comes looking for me.”

Sunwoo nodded, watching as she made her way to the door. Just before stepping out, she paused. “Get some rest too, okay?”

He didn’t respond right away, but as the door clicked shut behind her, he exhaled, finally allowing himself to lean back in his chair. New York City hummed outside, restless and alive, and Sunwoo knew tomorrow would be another long day. But for now, just for a little while, he let himself breathe.

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starseedfxofficial · 14 days ago

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The Quarterly Stop Loss Secret: How Pros Protect Their Profits While Others Panic When Your Stop Loss is Smarter Than You: The Hidden Quarterly Play Imagine you just hit that perfect entry on EUR/USD. You’re feeling like the Wolf of Wall Street—minus the legal issues. But hours later, your stop loss gets triggered, and you watch the market rebound like it was personally trolling you. Sound familiar? Welcome to the painful world of retail stop loss placement—a world where your protective cushion often feels more like a booby trap. But here’s the game-changer: what if I told you there’s a quarterly approach to stop loss orders that top institutional traders use to sidestep these rookie pitfalls? Yep, the big players aren’t just winging it—they’re using quarterly market cycles and data-driven price points to shield their capital. Let’s dive into this underground strategy—with a side of humor and the kind of elite tactics that could make your broker raise an eyebrow. The Quarterly Market Rhythm Nobody Talks About (But Pros Obsess Over) Picture the Forex market like your eccentric uncle who changes his vibe every few months. Each quarter (Q1, Q2, Q3, Q4), market sentiment shifts, driven by earnings reports, central bank policies, and institutional fund adjustments. These quarterly shifts create predictable patterns that can act as invisible guardrails for your stop loss orders. Case Study: The Fund That Outsmarted Retail Traders In Q4 2023, a London-based hedge fund made headlines by positioning EUR/USD longs near the quarter's low, just above key institutional support. They set stop losses below the quarterly range rather than random price levels. Retail traders got stopped out as price danced around daily volatility. The fund? They rode a 300-pip rally while sipping espresso. Key Takeaway: Stop losses keyed to quarterly levels respect the rhythm of big money, reducing the odds of getting wicked out by noise. Why Traditional Stop Losses Fail (And How the Quarterly Mindset Fixes It) Most traders set stop losses like they’re choosing pizza toppings—fast, emotional, and often regrettable. Common Errors: - Placing stops near psychological levels like 1.1000, which attract market makers like sharks to blood. - Tight stops during news releases—might as well hand your money over directly. - Ignoring quarterly pivot points and institutional order blocks. The Fix: Quarterly Anchoring Technique - Identify Quarterly Highs, Lows, and Pivots using platforms like TradingView or StarseedFX’s Smart Trading Tool (link). - Align Stop Losses with Quarterly Ranges, placing them beyond these institutional support and resistance levels. - Monitor Quarterly Performance Reports from central banks and hedge fund positioning data (e.g., CFTC Commitment of Traders reports). Example: Instead of placing a stop loss 20 pips below the daily low, position it 5-10 pips beyond the quarterly low—where institutional players defend their positions. Insider Secret: The Quarterly Liquidity Hunt Institutions love to hunt liquidity—and your tight stop loss is often their target. Every quarter-end, funds rebalance portfolios, creating artificial price spikes that grab retail stops before the real move begins. Pro Move: Delay Adjustments During Quarter-End Weeks - Reduce stop loss adjustments 7-10 days before and after the quarter ends. - Watch for liquidity sweeps—when price spikes briefly below support or above resistance—and adjust your stops beyond these trap zones. Real-World Example: In March 2024, GBP/USD spiked 60 pips below key support days before quarter-end. Retail stops got cleaned out. Institutional buys followed, sending the pair soaring. What the Experts Say: Stop Loss Orders Aren’t Set-It-and-Forget-It John Kicklighter, Chief Strategist at DailyFX, emphasizes that "stop loss placement should reflect market structure, not personal comfort zones" (source). Kathy Lien, Managing Director at BK Asset Management, adds, “Quarterly trends often reveal institutional footprints—ignoring them is like trading blindfolded.” (source). Step-by-Step: Quarterly Stop Loss Optimization Blueprint - Analyze the Quarterly Chart: Identify key quarterly highs, lows, and pivot zones. - Map Institutional Footprints: Use data like COT reports to spot hedge fund positioning. - Set Stop Losses Beyond Quarterly Barriers: 5-15 pips past quarterly support/resistance. - Quarter-End Caution: Reduce adjustments during the final 10 days of the quarter. - Track Institutional Flow News: Stay updated with StarseedFX Forex News Today (link). Final Takeaway: Why Quarterly Stops Give You an Edge Trading is hard, but it doesn’t need to feel like dodging landmines. Quarterly stop loss orders align your risk management with institutional flow—helping you avoid the classic retail pitfall of getting stopped out seconds before price skyrockets. Key Benefits Recap: - Avoid liquidity hunts and stop loss raids. - Sync with institutional cycles. - Reduce emotional adjustments driven by intraday noise. Unlock the Next Level of Trade Precision Ready to level up? Dive into StarseedFX’s free resources: - Free Trading Plan - Free Trading Journal - Smart Trading Tool - Community Membership Your stop loss deserves an upgrade. Your future self will thank you. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

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pwblogarchive · 7 months ago

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March 2006

March 8, 2006

“fucking savages…”

Don't sweat it kiddo...just look on the bright side,...you helped usher alot of young ladies into woman-hood tonight.

secondly, would everyone leave the poor guy alone already? Everyone wonders what drives people in bands "over the edge" or into a "meltdown"...its shit like this. How would you like it if someone posted "risque" pics of you online. Have some tact people. fuckin weak.

PS: Los Angeles will bury you alive

March 11, 2006

its funny how i seem to find myself home alone on friday nights. ill catch a look in the mirror at myself on the way up the stairs and i realize that i am not much different from the loser i was in 8th grade. still totally flawed in the same ways- only presented with these flaws at the most inopportune times. thats okay though. it helps my pen. and with the weeks ive had- i am probably a bit better off sitting this one out. i can't wait for everyone to get a chance to see the new video. we spent alot of time on it- patrick scored the entire thing and i have to say that he did an amazing job. but really i just want to be back on the road. playing shows is the only thing that feels okay lately. that and the one time she called me "serious george". lets start a club for all of us losers sitting at home on the internet on a friday night. what should we call it?it feels good to focus on the words again rather than all the bullshit that surrounds, a nice escape the way it used to be.new songs you will like i hope, maybe even love.here are some passages i was writing tonight:"The new uncool. And im leaning my head against some window in sometown. It doesn’t even really matter.

My head feels heavy. Tissue stuffed in my nose caked with dried blood, stuck like glue (the way I am to you). Ive got bad luck fists and every single joint in them is dyed a deep bruised violet. The blood is thick coating my throat, I heave towards my feet. December fights mean the most. Your face hurts before you even get into it. In Chicago if you hit somebody in the winter, you really mean it. it hurt my fist everytime I hit this kid’s cheek and teeth. And lets not even talk about how the concrete feels skidding against your face below zero. It’s the only time I don’t skip out on myself. I stand in there for every shot. The first fist in my stomach felt like it turned my guts inside out. I fell onto the curb and heard my keys clink down the angle of the street. I licked my bloody spit on my hand and slapped the kid that just punched me in the gut then walked off to find my keys. This kid spun me around and for the second before he hit me, I laughed cause my spit and blood on his face looked like warpaint, then he hit me right dead center in the face. Like a hiccup in time, it all slows down after you get hit in the face- you cant feel another fucking thing on your body. Like the cartoon stars, this is what they are referring to. Only all I had was every single tear duct on my head working overtime to get enough buckets out. the tears freezing on my cheeks, the blood, salty and quickly working into a paste when mixed with the dirt I had sucked up when I hit the ground. I hear converse pounding the cement in the distance, the sound is absolutely gorgeous. All I can do is smile back at this stupid kid like the worst kind of dare- the kind of smile that says "too late". Sound the cannons. The cavalry has arrived. This is why he will always be my bestfriend in my mind. us chasing these kids home. And him catching one on the front porch of the kids own home and pulling him off of it, the skin on this kids hand tearing as he is wrenched from the safety of the doorknob he has anchored himself on. this kid was screaming like he was being murdered. We’re panting in the cold air. Kissing off "maybe we shouldn’t"s like they were nothing. He is holding the kid and I am laying into him again and again. Right hand only. I want this kid to feel every hit. Its like green/silver on the screen, our glory days, his mom coming out of the front porch and my bestfriend telling her to ‘get back in the fucking house’. This kid defiant until the end, I gotta give that to him, no white flags- "fuck you"s between every hit. Me spitting my blood into his mouth. I get into a rhythm until this kid goes limp. For every single time I couldn’t sleep at night cause I knew what kids like this were gonna say to me in the morning. We wash the blood off of our faces and hands in the snow on the kids front lawn and walk home. Stopping when I see the glimmer of my keys in the sewer. He’s got longer arms then me so he reaches in and takes them back.

There’s no other reason to remember this than- no one deserves the title bestfriend if they don’t sound like the cavalries cannons or aren’t willing to bleed next to you.""I never meant for this to end up the way it has, you gotta believe me- the songs, the words, the flashes of the camera, the same interviews with the same answers over and over again to hell- im always a phone call away from making it or breaking it. and you should know that only when I see your sweated out eyes, that almost look like tears, living and dying right in front microphone altar, it’s the only reason I don’t throw the towel in. instead I shrug it off, another year down. Tell myself anything to make sense of it all. "Damn, kid- you really believe in yourself". I used to believe in dragons too. And I used to like these words a whole lot more but then they started sleeping around with your eyes and ears. Im coughing directions into the phone, my lungs hurt like im smoking sympathy cigarettes with you every time you light up. "turn left at the second stop sign. At the end of my driveway turn (b)right". thank god "I can’t wait to see you" weighs a whole lot more than "I cant let you see me like this" in the greater scale of things. You look so fucking good on my front porch when youre coming this way. I fake shyness at the door but only because I think that’s what you want. There is a breadcrumb trail of melancholy that leads back up to my bed or maybe out the third floor window depending on whose following it. We soften, we surrender in the failing light. I kiss your cheek goodbye (you’re not the one leaving). But its only a formality, like crossing yourself before you kneel in church. You are the bright oval light spotted out by the flashlight and I am everything else in the dark room. In the beginning I was only planning on holding on to you and using you recreationally, but then I started needing you at nights and then all the time. The not remembering is what gets to me the worst. Honestly the sex is overrated and the conversation is fucking terrible- so why do you still have me programmed in your phone? I broke out the ougie board and tried to contact the living. I said I need an outline and a diagram but then I can pretty much take it from there. Switch out the characters in this dream cause they just don’t seem realistic. Play the part- change the light cause it makes my skin look washed out. The hardest thing about life is the living part."

- petey

March 14, 2006

icantwaittoseeyouagain:He said "I was pretty much born in an abortion clinic".Lines like that are show stoppers.Imagine records being scratched at parties in the movies."I was born in Tampa in may of 82’, they razed the hospital and by January 83’ it was an abortion clinic".And this was my introduction to one of my bestfriends.He’s the gun that didn’t discharge.He’s The quarters you cant pick up cause they are glued to the ground.He is a disaster- He’s all the worst parts of the bible, thrown into one.The disaster sleeps in a bunk less than 3 feet away from me (there are worse things tonight than the bus crashing). He’s wearing a shirt that says "cowgirls ride better bare back".It’s enough to make me laugh, if only because he’s used that as a pick-up line.The light on my laptop pulses white on black like morse code mayday signals in the dark.It always wants me.It always knows what im thinking (so does The disaster).The disaster is looking in my bunk over the curtains again.Hes’s always looking for something to ruin.I close my eyes to fake sleep.Im not fast enough or he knows me too well.Right now he is a cycle: scream, laugh and fall over, repeat."Networks would pay good money for a reality tv star like you" I say.(We are the opposite of diamonds in the rough).Maybe he’ll hyperventilate and pass out."pete, you in there?" he shouts in response.Clearly there isn’t an iq equvilancy test to be my friend.I tell him, "gimme your moms number. You know its not too late for her to have an abortion"."alright, lets go eat"- he spits as he stumbles towards the bathroom.He’s either too drunk or not drunk enough.I couldn’t make up a kid like this.Our lives as a greek tragedy. Every single fucking character you get attatched to dies at the end.The bus crawls into texas.But it doesn’t matter. All the skylines look the same now.Everywhere is- not home.But we still live the lives you always dreamed of.We don’t pay covers. We sleep through the days.I mostly think of vampires.Not quite. But they are the closest I can come.They gotta know something about the way we don’t go to sleep until the sun comes up. Or maybe something about the marks she’s been leaving on my neck.Yawn.Squint.Dark glasses.I hate the way the sun looks at me. Like it knows everything ive been up to.There is something intensely foreign but at the same time charming about texas. Put the love on hold. We move slow.The disaster is wearing a "don’t mess with texas" shirt.The unOriginal gansta.The disaster says "im faded, but you should really think this over cause it could take all night".But I’m pretty sure he was just faded.My bunk feels like a coffin tonight. The air feels humid here. It makes it hard to breathe. It makes every pull worth it.This is the curtain call on desperation.So come out and take a bow. They’re all throwing roses.Could we get a brighter light to stage left and maybe a bit more attention.(I am all the parts of the bullet but the powder).(I am diamonds into coal).Fuck your low carbs.Fuck your atkins diet.Fuck your southbeach diet.Nothing keeps the weight off like depression.My friends all wonder about my abs- it’s a serious regiment of like a month of sitting alone, waiting for phone calls that never come.Sometimes I feel like the fucking pied piper.The tinted glass is like a two way mirror.This is so voyeuristic it hurts.(I never meant to be like this).What we’d all do for alittle attention.Its like the pied piper-But I am following the light down a vermin hole.You probably shouldn’t come after me.It’s like the pied piper-Only it’s a little bit more like a cult.And I don’t even feel like I am the one behind the wheel anymore.I look up at the light shining through the curtains.The disaster is on to another bunk. Hes got me smiling.

- petey

March 17, 2006

so the tour has kicked off. it’s been pretty intense. the kids in new england have been amazing so far. we are playing for about an hour and a half every night- including one of our oldest songs ever and a new song that we’ve never played before live.

oh and some of you were wondering- the quote at the end of my last journal was from a movie called “the united states of leland.”

i found this song that is so rad- total “listen late at night with one light on barely, drinking sleeptime tea” song. i don’t know who it’s by. i will find out though.

keep voting for 16 candles over on trl so we can brag to our labelmate n-yo that we’ve got cooler fans.

really exciting news about decaydance right around the corner.

glad to see old familiar faces in the front row- i was worried.

EDIT: okay- the song is called “fall away” and it’s by lauren hoffman- i have no idea anything about her but it’s perfect to listen to when you are falling asleep alone- “I heard the warning of the sun, Remember all the days I strayed, I found you, The moon fell down and made no sound… Where’s my mind I lost it too, And you put my love away”.

also- bob from the hush wanted me to let you know they are playing a super small show at chain reaction on april second in anaheim- you know all the creeps and jerks in the bands on this tour will be there.

posted by: peter, patrick, andy and joe

3/17/06 Q&A

question

does leslie write rainy day kids? or do you write it? or do you just take credit for it?

answer

i am writing it. leslie is editting it. trust me. youll be able to tell its me by the style.

question

Hey Pete….I was listening to MYAMERICANHEART today and looking through who the band thanked and it said “Pete Wentz and Clandestine Industries” Did you know that they thanked you? I thought it was cool.

answer

yeah. they are great kids and a good band.

question

Dear Pete , I wish you didnt speak so badly of fat people , females especially . I know that you have so called “vanity issues” of your own but that doesnt tolerate the fact that “fat” women are subjected to ridicule and underappreciation by you . As always said … skinny bitches are evil , i think you should recognize .Plus watch out cuz you might get whats comin to ya .Karmas a bitch trust me I know .

answer

im not interested in making fun of anyone because of their body type. i myself have always been made fun of for being short- so i dont need karma- ive always had that. i dont think many people feel safe in their own skin. but their is not reason to call “skinny bitches evil” either- because noone chooses how they look. ivedated people of all shapes and sizes. initial attraction may be physical but at the end of the day its the people who keep you laughing and talking that matter- no matter what size they are. actions speak louder than words- dont believe everything you hear (even if im the one saying it).

question

hey pete umm i had this boyfriend and he was gettin bugged at school and well he killed himself and it was so hard for me to watch him go like that and i broke my heart cuzz not olny did i lose my best friend but i lost the person i wanted to send the rest of my life with and it bothers me cuzz i loved him so much and every time i hear some of ur song i start to cry and somtimes i feel like killing myself but i just cut my wrists but i dont no how longer i can stand this before i do somthing really stupid and i need to no what to do so i am asking you please dont let me down ur my hero so dont let me down my life is in ur hands now

answer

the truth is, its okay to feel blue and down. especially right after someone you love kills themself. it is confusing and scary. if our music helps than that is amazing and probably the best compliment we could ever be given. but the truth is- you have to know that their are other people who have felt like this before and it is hard but you will make it through it. i mean, you have to. you definitely need to be talking to someone, a friend or your parents. the day after tommorrow could be the best day ever.

question

i have to say that im a bit dissapointed that youre playing at a non-smoking venue in denver…somewhow smoke smell adds to the beautiful concert ambiance (even though i dont smoke…is that weird?)

answer

yeah its pretty awesome. iron lungs and chemotherapy are really sexy. nah their not. smoking cigarettes is so two years ago- and you can tell joe trohman i said that.

question

im really upset about you guys not going to warped tour…why arent you?????????

answer

with warped tour- its supposed to be one year on, one year off- when you play the mainstage. were gonna come out and hang at a couple of the dates.

question

how in the world does andy spin the drumsticks so long…..i am a really good drummer me and my freiends have a band, and i have been tryin so hard to spin it but i get nowhere with it……

answer

its all cgi- we hired the guys who did the last star wars movie and they editted like that. he doesnt even really have hands.

3/18/06

question

Hey Pete, is that dog in the new video your dog? I saw you holding in a picture recently and I was wondering about that. Whats his/her name? Its a very cute dog. =)

answer

its not mine. its bonnie janes. but it does always look delicious.

question

i sleep with my arms across my chest and dream of you with someone else…” what is that a lyric from?

answer

maximo park. go listen.

question

could I just correct you…goats dont eat everything, they make pretty good pets they like chocolate and mountain dew but I havent seen a goat eat say…a tin can. you silly city boy.

answer

i saw a goat eat dirty laundry once. it was gross. like even grosser than when dirty picks his teeth with my comb.

question

hey! i just got home from a party and it was so fun but it got me thinking, whats your dance style/move? love always, princess pat

answer

hide in the corner and laugh at my friends dancing- look at pretty girls and then go home and go to sleep. thats pretty much my only move.

question

hey pete im planning to make patrick a friendship braclet and i wanted to give it him personally im going to the Jacksonville concert should i throw it up on stage(since i have floor tickets) or should i wait around after the show like a weird stalker and hand it to him as you guys are leavn??

answer

meet and greets are the best chance to give him something. throw it on stage but try not to hit him in the eye.

question

Pete what is it like to be on trl?

answer

its like a million people screaming and spazzing and then they realize you are an ordinary boy and its cool cause you just get to meet people and its very relaxed.

question

I just saw the new music video, A little less 16 candles, A little more touch me I was just wondering why did u pic a vampire theme. Also i saw the making of the video on Mtv and why does patrick not wear his glasses when he plays but then he wears them like in “real life”??

answer

because there are actually two patricks. one does his appearances and the other plays shows. its quite confusing. the only way you can tell is: patrick number two has a 2 right behind his left ear- duh- whyd you think he always wears hats?

March 22, 2006

"baby im getting on a plane in a minute i wanted to say bye and i love you..."

its funny the way being young exaggerates everything. when we fall in love or fall apart its all magnified. ive been waiting on a change. ive been waiting for you to not give up on me. i should have bet against myself and thrown the game. its always the same. the same people that are not me with the strange coastal breeze and the strange coastal boys. the truth is even funnier. its slippery. it looks different at 1am than it does at 10am. it looks different two weeks later. you know what the fuck i am talking about. its always new names and numbers. but its the same. and i am dirty, forgetful, lonely, arrogant, stubborn, secretive, and many other things i hear in whispers. but my heart is fucking in it. you could set your watch by it. and that has been thrown out and trashed. lied to. ignored. run away from. i have the opposite of midas' touch. no matter how you spin it- it hurts. words cannot explain- congratulations! you did it again. but being in the bitter boys club just keeps the cycle spinning. so this is me walking away. this is the closure i needed. or close to it. i want to be in love again. she is the start of it- she reminds me of sweet child o'mine and staying up all night talking and the truth and winks that are just for me. there are no futures here. there are no more second chances or arkansas- or wrong text messages. 'the girl i loved never really existed at all'... this journal doesn't really make sense anymore. the purpose i started it for is out the window and out of my mind. this will be the last entry in here. its gonna be okay. "its not that id die for you, its that i already have." next time try telling the truth. Current Music: "wish you were here" pink Floyd

March 22, 2006

i cant believe how i started that last one off. it read so wrong. the last time i felt anything:My wrists are black and blue from bumping the edge of the table next to the keyboard like a punching bag. Im sorry just that’s the only way I know how to get this out. consider it closer to preheating the oven for when I drag the pen across my skin and spill the ink. My eyes black and trembling, sinking like stones. Her hands hold my head back once an hour as I throw up in the sink. The front of the stereo lights up "hello" when it turns on, it’s the only conversation in the room. Every night the alarm goes off at last call reminding me. I leave the house just in time to meet her out in front of the closed bar. Neon lights set free as they are shut off, they now go to sleep without a purpose. We own the edge of the street. I had concerns but they’re wearing off in the moonlight. I tell her I love the angle her hair takes in the shadows stretched across the street, cars plowing through the silhouettes of our torsos. Shes not impressed. I follow it up by telling her how she seems so L.A., she thanks me, though I never meant it to be a compliment. Her eyelashes are black and long- they seem to be the stitching around her eyes, holding all the fabric that is her together. I fight the urge to pull one and watch her unravel like an old sweater. I chew swallowables just to get them in my bloodstream faster. I skip the cell phone and just knock on her door just to get her in my bloodstream faster. I apologize for remembering everything out of order but my mind never was too linear. My head feels full of perfumed air and disinfectant spray. It feels like its been blown up with air but not floating more with an air heavier than the earth’s atmosphere and rolling slowly down the street. My head is swimming in milligram doses. Detatched, maybe this is what it feels like to be her, thinking of me. My last thoughts are of leaves floating in an abandoned pool in autumn. Strange. The way their stems move like fish. My pupils are fucking collosal, and if you could read them they’d be like the sign on a storefront "I’m sorry I have stepped away for awhile". Close the lid of the computer and lay back my head on the pillow blackened by your mascera. There’s people on tv a half a world away that are being blown up for trying to vote and I am complaining when we have diet soda instead of regular on our rider. You probably don’t even know what a rider is, but that’s just proof that you’re focusing on the wrong part of that sentence. Im skidding my shoe along the sidewalk, you’re telling me about your day- only I stopped caring about your days about a month ago. Im wearing your scarf cause I love the way it smells, the weather definitely isn’t calling for it, but it makes my memory feel comfortable. Im always trying to please my memory lately so it stops running off on me. Stop at the corner. We both have our hoods up, I tug yours towards my face. our eyes should always be this close(d), to this day ive never written a word about your lips just because I could never found ones that they are deserving of. And im not one for breaking habits, so I wont now. Fuck it. This isn’t gonna make any sense when I read it in the morning anyway.

- petey

3/22/06 Q&A

question

So, how is the reunion of Landshark 1 and Landshark 2 going so far? xoLC

answer

amazing. weve been riding bikes everyday. pretty much the best kid ever.

question

pete, im confused. in the interview joe said that fob is far from ever being on a tour buss, but sense your van/trailer crashed, wat are you riding in now? xo, sarah

answer

we didnt get a tour bus until about a year after that was filmed. and when we did we shared a bus with matchbook romance- after that weve been riding in a tour bus to write a record but we crammed our entire crew into one tour bus for warped tour. we tour between 200 and 300 days of the year. it is necessary for us to sleep and try to have some kind of home or else we would have to tour way less. it makes the music and shows better. we have also always paid for our tour busses ourselves. we have never taken tour support to do it. not that it needs to be justified because honestly we were in a van for 3 years in this band alone, not to mention the other bands weve done.

March 28, 2006

got some good news. i figured i'd post it here cause some of its kinda fbr related:1. first and foremost. i am excited to announce that lifetime has signed to decaydance (fbr) records. mostly, because the world needs another lifetime record. this is a partnership before it is anything else- and i have an intense respect for this band. how they go about things will be unchanged whether they play 2 shows or 200 shows - or who they record with or what the new stuff sounds like. i am a super fan and its exciting to have the chance to hear new songs! more than anything i hope new kids who are fans of bands from this scene can see where all of us got much of our influence from.2. the clandestine / fender squire bass has been set into motion- i will get pics up asap over at the buzznet. i am thinking that it will be available around the last two weeks of this tour possibly- and we are going to keep the price as low as squire basses are (under 300 - sold at guitar centers for between 220 and 260). i am excited about it.3. off day in new mexico. us and the all american rejects took over a chucky cheese. pictures will be up soon.4. deep breath, smile. dont take it all so seriously (that was mostly directed at me).xo

- petey

3/28/06 Q&A

question

Where the hell do you find apple fanta?? Ive lived in texas all my life and i didnt even know the made that.

answer

its always in dusty bottles and is almost always flat. so good.

question

how come you guys only answer a certain few questions?…oh and is it ok if my band plays your songs practising? btw your drummer is brill, but i can drum to your songs..(nah nah nah) sarah xx

answer

cause 99 percent of the questions are: “will you give me your screenname”, “will patrick kiss me”, “can you tell gerard that hes a hottie”. it is very evident to me that i should move to where ever you are because i would like to use “s” instead of “c”.

question

is your your bus stinky?

answer

yes.

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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hiddles-and-skittles · 3 years ago

Text

News Flash

Pairing: News Anchor!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,161

Summary: Blowjob under a desk? Classic.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR PROFILE DESCRIPTION I WILL BLOCK YOU, smut/oral (m rec), a little angst but it's fluffy, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating), the nickname ‘pumpkin,’ reader being a little insecure, also Sharon is a biatch trying to steal yo man, please tell me if there's any more!

Notes: Aaaaaand we’re back! This might not be the most original idea, but I've had this photo saved since the start of my Seb obsession last year, and all I see is newsanchor!Bucky. Not sure if that's an AU that's been done, but it's something I wanted to try. I don't have my own and I've been dying for something new!

***PLEASE READ Something I’ve noticed a lot when I copy from Word and paste into Tumblr; my paragraphs paste out of order? If something doesn’t make sense, let me know. It always looks different on my laptop vs my phone. I’m a perfectionist so I make sure fifty or so times everything’s good on my end, but tumblr doesn’t agree sometimes. In my last fic the banter was out of order and wedged between paragraphs and it didn’t make sense. The ending paragraph was also at the beginning. So I’m begging you to tell me if something doesn’t make sense. Thank you <3

You might have stolen your boyfriend's spare key to the broadcasting station he works at a few nights ago while he was fast asleep, slithering out of bed and tiptoeing around him in hopes he wouldn't wake up. Or 'maybe you lost it in your car somewhere,' you told him, giggling when he couldn't find it. It took three days to hatch this nefarious plan and now it was finally time to execute it.

You made sure to get to the station early; before anyone else could spot you and before the cameras turned on. The lights from several TVs and other equipment were the only things visible in the dark, so your phone light guided you to where the anchors' desk was. This was one of the wildest plans you'd ever concocted, and the thrill of getting caught turned you on that much more. Hell, this is illegal. You might get Bucky fired if you're not careful enough.

But you're sneaky. You know the setup.

The underside of the desk was a deep enough hole to hide your full body and then some, so you push yourself underneath and scoot backwards until your back hits the front panel. You have enough room to stretch your legs all the way out and still not be seen, and if you didn't know better you'd think these desks were built for times like these.

You slide his chair in front of you before returning to situate yourself and read on your phone to pass the time. About thirty minutes and a broken neck later, lights flicker on, the smell of coffee hits your nose, and a whole slew of people briskly walk in with only their bottom halves visible. Immediately you sit up and make sure your phone is on silent, moving out of the way of the chair when he pulls it out to sit his cute little ass down.

You're giddy as a school girl ready to jump his bones but you tear yourself away from misbehaving, knowing the build up would be far more satisfying. He clears his throat to rehearse his intro but cuts himself off to fake laugh at what his co-anchor Sharon says, causing you to roll your eyes knowing damn well you're funnier than she is. You get lost in his raspy, early morning voice, the one that always oozes sex and makes you gush without him ever having to touch you, and moments later Sharon says the routine good morning. He follows her.

"Coming up: A fire wreaks havoc in the city but an unexpected hero saves the day. And are these the warmest temperatures ever recorded for a New York's winter? Stay tuned." The camera cuts and the next spot is cast to a reporter who stands in the street in slacks and a t-shirt. Bucky leans back in his chair and adjusts his tie then takes a sip of water, oblivious that you're under his desk.

He and his co-anchor chit chat and you decide to test the waters by tugging ever so slightly on his shoe laces, but when you get no reaction you pull on the bottom of his pants. His knee immediately jerks up and hits the desk and he mutters a pained ‘shit’ under his breath upon impact. She asks if he's okay and he says something about not quite being awake yet, so she volunteers to get more coffee for him. The second she leaves his chair rolls back and your heart pounds violently in your chest. Curious steel blue eyes widen in shock when he notices your seated form, causing him to nearly topple backwards but saving himself when his coworkers turn their heads to the commotion.

"What are you doing here?!" He whisper-screams, trying not to get anyone's attention. A wicked grin appears on your face as you gaze up at him but before you could even think of a response, Sharon brings the coffee to him and he quickly rolls himself back to the desk. His leg stretches out and his foot lands on your chest, softly pushing you back from the potential line of sight.

They resume talking and the spotlight is brought back to them as they pick up their stories for the morning. You crawl back towards him on your knees and rest your hands on his boots. His entire lower half is completely at your mercy and you'd be fucking stupid not to seize the moment.

Sharon laughs and coos at a video in the background. “In case you missed it, late last night at the Central Park Zoo a baby red panda was born! They named him Roscoe! Isn't he just adorable?” She playfully elbows Bucky in the arm, but seems offended when he doesn’t respond with equal enthusiasm. “Ahem, I said, isn't he adorable, Buck?”

Running your deft fingers under his pants and up his legs, you rake your nails through the hairs that adorn them. His breath hitches at your touch. You continue outside of his dress pants, kneading up his toned calves and sliding over his knees, wandering slowly over the insides of his thighs until he adjusts himself by opening his legs for better access. He then clears his throat to try and focus on his story. One of his gloved hands disappears from the cameras' view and grips onto his chair beside him and he taps his foot as a warning, one you pay no mind to.

You rim your fingers along where his shirt is tucked in and tug him closer by his empty belt loops. You force his legs apart wider and pop his pants button open, leisurely dragging the zipper down and licking your lips when he sucks his stomach in.

You hook a finger in his boxers and pull down, springing out his semi-hard cock, then kiss the inside of his thigh, watching his cock twitch. Grinning like a Cheshire, you huff out a warm breath to tease him, his thighs flexing at the sensation.

Before you proceed you double check to make sure you've got enough headspace below the desk that you don't accidentally knock yourself out giving your boyfriend a secret blowjob.

You wrap your hand around his length and pump until precum starts to drip from the head. What I'd give to ride him in front of all these people, all these cameras, you think to yourself, lifting up to lap at him. The hand gripping the chair moves to your wrist, begging you with a gentle squeeze. You repay the light squeeze on his cock and immediately hear him gasp. You just know how red his face must be as you hear Sharon ask if he's okay, and he responds with a squeaky 'just fine!' You laugh in your head, returning to lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Though it’s impossible to gauge his reaction, his faint, delicious whimpers make up for it as you take more of him in your mouth.

“Uh yeah, Rascal's cute,” he grits out with a fake smile, shifting to sink a little lower in his chair.

“It's Roscoe,” she corrects him stiffly.

“Of course it is.” You see Sharon on the tv behind them shooting him a death glare, cocking her eyebrow in confusion. She straightens her papers and rolls her eyes away from the camera with a smile still plastered to her face. Your hand slides down to roll his balls between your fingers and you kitten lick the slit of his head. "B-back to Steve with the-ah-weather!" He chokes out, shooting straight up in his chair.

As soon as the cameras pan, he's biting down on a gloved hand to stifle a moan while the other is white knuckling the desk right above your head. You can't help but hum in satisfaction, the small vibration causing his hips to jolt forward and the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. You gag at the abrupt intrusion but begin to relax your jaw, taking in all you can and pumping your hand around what your mouth leaves out.

“What is going on with you?!” Sharon hisses at him. You take him out of your mouth and listen.

“J-just havin’ an off day,” he lies breathlessly, his eyes glossed over.

“Well I’m worried,” she whispers, standing up and bending over enough for her lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You know you can talk to me.” She kisses his cheek and rests a hand on his thigh far too high up for your liking, then reaches her other hand up to thumb his chin dimple. You see red. As she walks away you can see that Bucky is uncomfortable and right now it isn’t from his compromising position.

You angrily go back to him and hollow out your cheeks, closing your mouth tighter around him with your teeth encased in your lips, sucking harder as your head bobs faster. The clicking of joints is heard as his toes curl in his shoes, a clear indication he’s nearing his release. Your focus shifts completely to getting Bucky off. His legs shake and his hips jerk of their own volition in a silent plea to keep going, but you know the best way to drive him crazy is to slow down to the point he thinks he won’t finish. You slowly twist your hand up and down his shaft while sucking his balls into your mouth and his hips stutter twice more, his cock aimed towards your open mouth, eager to collect his release on your tongue. He grunts out a final time as his cum shoots into your mouth, and you smile in victory as you swallow every drop.

From this angle you see him relax, his breathing shallow as he finds your cheek and gently runs a gloved thumb over it. You nuzzle into his palm and quickly reach to stuff him back into his pants, but your mind is brought back to the way Sharon touched him and you try not to grip him in frustration. He intentionally drops a pen and jumps down from his chair.

“How are you getting out of here?” he asks you, grabbing his pen. Your brain can’t even form a response with how upset you are. Is he cheating? Or is she just a bitch? “...pumpkin?”

“Fire alarm,” you snap, not meeting his eyes. He looks dejected with his brows furrowed and eyes searching yours, but he shakes himself out of it.

“Got it,” he nods. He makes a quick adjustment to his pants and stands up, tucking his shirt back in and excusing himself to the bathroom. You finally sit down on your ass and relax your legs, but the thought of Sharon and Bucky together gets so deep under your skin it brings tears to your eyes. The obnoxious sound of the fire alarm pulls you from your anxious addled brain and you harshly wipe at the falling wetness from your cheeks. The office lights flash and the news crew panic and gather their things, but you stay under the desk until the entire room is emptied out.

The door flies open to reveal a freshly disheveled Bucky, who practically leaps over to you and reaches his hand under the desk for you to take. You refuse his offer and get yourself up. “Let’s go,” you tell him, brushing yourself off. Once outside you’re met with the crisp morning air and the sun rising enough to cast a hazy orange reflection on the building’s windows. He takes you to a spot that’s hidden from his coworkers.

“You're gonna pay for that later," he laughs as he tries to pull you close but you shrug him off and fold your arms over your chest.

“Good,” you sniffle, leaning into him.

"What's the deal with Sharon?” you blurt. “Do you...like her or something?" You finally look him in the eyes and he notices how red your face is, your eyes brimming with tears. His mouth hangs open and he fights the urge to hug you as tight as humanly possible.

"What? No, I swear, I've told her I'm not interested, she already knows I'm with you. It makes me uncomfortable, but she just won't stop.” His hands rest on your hips. “I would never even consider it, pumpkin, especially not with how good your lips feel around my cock." He blushes and smiles shyly as he whispers the dirty word, his eyes following yours to look at you earnestly. "Never." You stutter out a sigh and blink away your tears and he tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your temple.

“You know I love you. She can never make me feel the way you do.” He kisses down your face and you snort, smirking up at him.

“I know she can’t. You just wait till you get home tonight.”

@loricamebackyetagain @jobean12-blog

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