#I hope I never have to post about such stupid shit again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scopophobia-polaris · 4 months ago

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So, to add on to Navi's post, because her whole read for the original was getting screenshots from the game to debunk what was said, of course....we are now here. I want to tell you that no one here disagreed with your conclusion about Ganondorf being a victim. What we here disagreed with was the method you used to get there. Simplifying Ganondorf down to solely good or solely evil is something this Fandom does all the time with little to no nuance. And even though you have written an eloquent essay, Published even! You twisted or outright made up parts of the game to get to your conclusion. In essay writing, that's called a logical fallacy, and the whole essay either twists what happens in the game or outright gets it wrong.

Now people are probably gonna wonder why I'm treating this like a big deal or why I'm speaking so blunt, because this is by all means very stupid fandom drama.

But I think when you're a college prof and you get an essay published and it's online for people to read everywhere without you, one, not giving the context behind Ganondorf's creation and the coding of his appearance and motivations, two the complexities of a corporate conglomerate in a notoriously socially conservative country taking aesthetics from countries who were historically colonized. And Three, The way that video games are a collaborative effort with usually no singular vision, this is very true at nintendo despite what people may think, and at any moment changes can be made for any reason by team leads or executives that would hinder or even hurt a story. It detrimental to the audience reading it that you do not provide them more of a couple of screenshots

Basically, many things go into a story and now I'm taking this more from a DOYLIST view right here talking about Nintendo. But I'm doing this because you keep trying to say..... well fuck man do I need to pull up more examples? Navi got them all, the whole essay is you trying HEAVILY to imply that Nintendo MEANT to do all of this, as in intentional in the story, idk I feel crazy, words have meaning, specific wording has implication, oh and this dosent even get into how localization can change things 😃😀 wording has meaning and sometimes translators don't have cultural contexxxtttttttt and to not even mention about Nintendo's history or even the short hand that comes from Ganondorf's design and the historical Orientalism behind it feels like a disservice to the paper, but much more qualified people then I have discussed the way Ganondorf is written and probably would love to discuss or link to previous writing again if asked.

And this is a cold take but Nintendo isn’t the place you should be looking to for deep story telling, they will always be a corporate entity first and the bottom line is a general audience, this does not mean JUST KIDS this means to a generalized population. And this is extremely cynical but a lot of people cant even handle the complexity of a female character who is mean, like Midna, do you really think people would handle a Ganondorf like how he is in Tp being portrayed in any form of film language as good????? This game dropped 5 years after 9/11, Nintendo was never gonna lose out in money like that.

And Dude people have given so much shit to HUGE fanartists and comic authors about their work portraying Ganondorf in a sympathetic light, you would of thunk more people would of picked up on Ganondorf's story being written as tragedy if there was something in the game that actually DID that. Maybe they would of written a blog post about how Midna saw Link kill Ganondorf and was ashamed of that or Ganondorf TOTALLY said the history of light and shadow will be written in blood thing before the final battle, you think people would of talked about huh why did Ganondorf say that there or something and maybe went 🤔 instead of it being argued that Tp Ganondorf had the weakest writing of the series until TotK threw a pile of flaming shit at my door with a picture of Ganondorf on it.

Navi also goes in depth on how Hyrule has not exactly stagnated like what was claimed in History of Light and Shadow by using the Goron merchants and Yeto as examples.

Rynling has stated that the cause of the stagnation and decline is due to an ineffectual leader that has "Not allowed its people to be revitalized by change and diversity."

Now I am familiar with the flaws of an undetermined national unity, I am very familiar with the subject, but I’m not going to speak like an authority. Id rather let someone much more qualified make that post and I link back to it, because i know its coming. But Navi said in her post that the idea of what could of happened at Arbiter's Grounds can completely blow over someone's head if they didn't play OoT first, and I think more or less this is accurate, certain things are lost in Wind Waker even with the recaps, but I wanna join in on this in my own way...

Rynling....you may say Hyrule has been on a decline during Tp......you may even think OoT had a more stable Hyrule or some shit.....i THINK YOU FORGOT ABOUT THE PLOT OF OCARINA OF TIME BAYBEEEEEEE

THE SUPPLEMENTAL MATERIAL THAT I CAN PULL UP TO PROVE MY SHIT ABOUT OOT HYRULE BEING DOG SHIT IN COMPARISON TO TP

Like if you're seriously gonna link me and Navi to your essay then I am about to go full BTW it's a Sativa and eat that bitch after midnight cuZ we YELLIN ABOUT OCARINA OF TIME ON THIS POST FOR EVERYONE🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

All of Ocarina of Time's narrative is haunted by the civil war, the whole reason why Link is being raised in the woods is cuz of the civil war, the Sheikah are implied to have died out during the same conflict, and well its said that Hyrule was unified during it

Civil War yet the translators use unified the country like it WASNT under a sole ruler before? Hello? I need to go back through the Japanese script for the game again to see if i missed something of the game and freak it harder. And do realize the Deku sprout in this screenshot says fierce war but every where else, including the Zelda wiki (not fandom) its CIVIL War.

The Gate to Death mountain and Simultaniously the fence at Zora's river gives us and idea that peace was....tenuous at best downright hostile at worse given relations with the Gerudo

so today we gonna do some fun comparing and contrasting the Gorons and how they are treated in OoT to TP

and we gonna start with his racist ass BHJBHDBHKCJW

I mean, damn remmeber how mad Darunia is at Link for being the supposed royal family messenger? Link Unlocking the door to Darunia's room with Zelda's lullaby, I think it's a little funny that Darunia is hung up , you know, like he knows this is some disrespectful shit

Hey wannna hear some shit? The gates at the edge of death mountain aren't guarded by Gorons and were not built by them you can tell, the only way to visit the mountain is to get permission from the King to go up and not from the people that actually live there

God and like, there is something about the way Darunia locks himself in his room, like he does it to keep the ruby safe from all the other Gorons being so hungry that he's frightened they're gonna eat it, he doesn't know what to do on how to act about the Dodongos that Ganondorf summon on him for not giving over that rock. It qlmost sounds like when Ganondorf came in and Threatened Darunia, and that he (Darunia) sent a message to the royal family asking for help, why else would he be expecting someone to come meet with him?

"If I'm not mistaken, you came out here to eat the red stone too! Well, too bad! It's not here! What? That's not why you're here? You're looking for a "Spiritual Stone?" You must mean that delicious-looking red stone that was once displayed above the city! I was so hungry that I thought it would be OK to just give it one tiny, little lick...so I snuck up there. But it was already gone! I think Big Brother took it away. He always says that everyone is after that red stone! Big Brother has shut himself up in his room saying, "I will wait in here for the Royal Family's messenger!" this is a quote from the Goron that you can find on the middle of the rope bridge thing in Goron city.

Yeah so he sent a letter or something and no one answered yeesh.

contrast this all with TP where OH LOOKS WHO'S GUARDING DEATH MOUNTAIN

so in TP spoilers, this happens

Kakariko is more connected then ever! Renado here is wondering what the hell is going on with their FRIENDS. And yeah the Goron elder Gor Coron is trying to keep the last few people from kakariko left safe, and other Gorons, i mean, theyre keeping a piece of the fused shadow in there. also the way that entry into the temple goes in this game is cute, Darunia was freaking it cuz everyone is starving, but here Link wrestles his way up a mountain to ask the Gron elder whats happening since he was asked to come here by Renado, Gor Coron goes DAMN

unless......?

IDK ITS LIKE? ITS SILLY? Idk Hyrule isnt the best place but why try and act like this doesnt happen during TP?

so where am i getting at with this? the hell was going on back during OoT? If things are so odd and weirdly tense with the gates gaurds and non responses

"As time passed, the Triforce became a legend, and the different people of Hyrule forgot the laws and wisdom that the goddesses had left behind. Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo. It seemed every race of Hyrule was at the other's throat. Only the secluded Kokiri, sheltered by their magical forest and the Great Deku Tree, were spared the destruction of Hyrule's civil wars.

After 50 years of ceaseless combat, there arose a Hylian King of great wisdom, courage and power. Through his brilliant military campaigns and wise diplomacy, he was able to bring the varied people of Hyrule into a tenuous harmony. Treaties of peace were signed, and prosperity once again seemed to bloom in Hyrule. But no sooner had people declared peace in Hyrule than trouble once again stalked the land."

Tenuous Harmony, could you imagine if they dropped a line like this in Creating a champion? The tumblr side of the fandom would go fucking nuts with that info like OHHHHH SHIT WAS GOING ONNNNNN

This was ALL on the offical Nintendo Zelda website back when oot was the big game out, we have this cuz someone saved it to the wayback, THIS SCREENSHOT WAS FROM DECEMBER 14TH 2001, ABOUT A FULL YEAR AND A DAY UNTIL WIND WAKER WAS RELEASED IN JAPAN. THAT'S INSANE RIGHT???? ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

And then it all probably got deleted once wind waker became the new thing!!! Or when they wanted to modernize and deleted it!!! THAT SUCKS RIGHT????

And what's worse is that it introduces some new info and also clarifies something. Hey you know when I made that post like damn Darunia racist as hell

"Warfare and strife became common in Hyrule, as the armies of the Zora marched on the Hylians. The Gorons fought the Gerudo."

NO WHERE IN THE GAME THE LEGEND OF ZELDA OCARINA OF TIME IT SAYS THIS, IT DOES NOT STATE THERE WAS CONFLICT BETWEEN THE GORONS AND GERUDO.....LIKE DIN GET YA KIDS.....IM LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR SOMETHING I MUST OF MISSED.

But Like oh hey a fucking explanation to why he just fucking says that, I figure it was cuz of Ganondorf trying to almond mom all of them or that he kept talking to the King and well.....Navi already showed the GENERAL reaction to the Gerudo in castle town.

it went from oh hes just racist to dARUNIA AND GANONDORF HAVE HISTORY????

But the interesting one is why did thy Zora "marched on the Hylians."

Like sitting here like, I know a comic made in Germany shouldn't be a be all end all in shit I knew it never was and it would like. If you put this in warrior cats canonicoty categorization would be considered lower down supplementary material dubious canon, but their are things in the comic AND the Himekawa manga that behinds some behind the scenes actions given that LINK'S MOM HAS A MOSTLY CONSISTENT DESIGN WHAT THE HELLLLLLLL. And I always thought the Goron Zora war thing was stupid but Nintendo then had that out on their website, what the hell was going ON.

Because idk i didnt think much of Zora De Bon XVI and the Hyrulien King's relationship but

Now a days the Zelda website is much different and does not have lore pages like this anymore, it's more like a summary of the timeline. But yeah actually Nintendo approved shit, Hylian/Zora war.

Hyrule is progressing, its just going slowly, Hyrule is not AS stifled by its monarchy or a lack of integration during TP because Hyrule IS integrating, is people's are intermingling like is hasn't before during this game.

And this isn't even to get started on the E3 demo of Twilight princess that the trip that Link is supposed to take at the beginning of the game was to be the representative of Ordon at the "Hyrule summit

and Hyrule is described in a VERY specific way

Kingdom of Hyrule and neighboring realms? like theyre all not under the crown? so like???? FUN, that didn't end up making it in the game. the dailouge that is, But the remints is still there in the way the game is made up, like how OoT is built off is civil war bones

actually funny, Navi just got me screenshots of the way the dialouge was changed here

Like stuff clearly changed during the demo and finished game, I should of been touching more on the intricacies of how like shit was just change for no reason sometimes but uh....

But maybe @rawliverandgoronspice would want to one day like about games industry stuff if you ever want to 😭 I know you're super passionate on this and I wish I like even off hand mentioned something about how like TP is also effected by how games are made but I didn't and I'm a fool but games are complicated as hell and that post you made talking a bit about it was fun ya know 👉👈 and the Beta of Tp changes a LOT of stuff, one Rusl really is like a brother to link in the way he messes with him, it actually makes some weird Nintendo licensed shit saying hes like a big brother to Link made WAYYYYY more since with the Beta in mind, but....that also mean they tried to keep the big bro vibes....but then put the dad ones in there too like.....uh...did..someone not change his summary anywhere?

that was my big thing i wanted to talk about, navi's already touched on everything else i just think the parallels here between the Goron quest between OoT and TP changes in such a nice way.

And like this doesn't get into other shit about TP, like if we wanna deep dive into shit ya don't gotta do it by twisting the story, like I was going and talking to @blackautmedia to ask with some help when it came to like.......god idk what i even said anymore i was going a mile a minute. He wants to write his own thing on Twilight princess so im not gonna step on his toes but he has recommended Arabs and Muslims in the Media: Race and Representation after 9/11 by Evelyn Alsultany, the link I provided here is too her website and her page on the book this link here is from her own site that has a pdf of a part American Quarterly with a paper by the same name.

Anyways i wanna reflex for a moment cuz ive been up for hours finishing this because my brain wont stop unless i do. But the thing that by all means started this, was not your reblog linking me and Navi to your essay, or that there is 2 versions i found out where the paper published one had a lot more context to why you wrote your tumblr post the way you did, Navi helped me get the parts that were cut, please realize removing these does not remove the sentiment from the essay, its baked in.

fanfic, its a popular Fan interpretation that there was fighting between the Gerudo and Hylians after Ganondorf was caught trying to take the triforce, but this is not stated to of happened in the lore itself or even has evidence to back it up other then the Implications of Arbiter's grounds theory

UGHHHH AND THIS AGAIN "Twilight Princess Delivers a subtle yet poignant protest against neoliberal discourses of empire reflected in the rhetoric of heroism inform the geopolitical movements of Japan throught the twentieth century"

WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT......

i dont mean this in a stupid ass way, im saying where the hell was about the protest thing, wait i really shouldt take from the published one cuz you actually dumbed down the line for tumblr

anyways again, where, Navi made it clear enough with her own post that, no, the way that Ganondorf is animated has no sympathy for him until the light is literally leaving him. Hell Twilight princess inst very kind to the gerudo either given that the only thing said about them is that they were thieves and nothing more. Like somehow OoT is more empathetic to the Gerudo, it doesn't just call them thieves, it aint great its not even good its just a bad portrayal of a people, and yet somehow OoT is willing to show the Gerudo in a neutral light at points then TP ever did.

but the reason i decided to just throw down a post is cuz i was pissed that you went after Ezlo for reblogging ME and NAVI's posts and purposefully misunderstood their fuckin wind waker post about ZELDA YOUTUBERS

dude you had them getting genuinely harassed by people with 0 reading comprehension that thinks a snarky reply to a tumblr post means its 100% correct. Webbed. Site.

anyways, I hope people don't take this as a right or wrong way to interpret a piece of work, as stated before, I read your essay, navi read your essay, you changed parts of Twilight Princess to get to the conclusion of you paper...And im gonna be real but it's kinda crazy that you're using post colonial melancholia for this when it's got some.....well something like idk i need someone to do a full ass review because there are point where i gently raise an eyebrow im gonna be real. but also like

like how do you read his book and then miss out on this, one of your whole big aruments is that hyrule is stagnate and not multi cultural and i had to grab screenshots and Navi had to get shit from the game.

like damn, do yall ever uh feel a strange sadness when dusk falls? i do. Idk this is one of the first and last times Nintendo ever delt with Ganondorf with some form a sympathy for him, cuz we got the dragon explosion in totk its like oh he's turbo evil now and he exploded you exploded him and yet the Gerudo probably still gotta pay for his shit from a billion years ago anyways idk idk idk pot shots at totk again.

I know you dug around a little for that post, and I understand from the numerous people that dmed me about that, you probably went on making an essay on their post so you could sound smart again.

And to be clear, I was told to drop some shit i was about to say about you because no one wants to start fandom drama, neither do I truly and any jab on the post itself would just be rude. people change and some people only learn to shut the hell up, so we'll keep it at that. I just hope you really don't truly recognize some of these people you started shit with.

So yeah tldr, uh.....idk, im going in for an autism screening in a month

also me watching the ending to windwaker cuz i wanted to say something about stong endings TP fans im sorry But Wind waker's ending hits no matter what best sequal to OoT thats isnt Majora's mask

The History of Light and Shadow

At the end of Twilight Princess, Ganondorf delivers one of his most memorable lines, “The history of light and shadow will be written in blood.” He is not wrong. As the player has witnessed over the course of Link’s adventure, Hyrule is haunted by ruins and ghost towns, a mere shadow of what it once was. The landscape is filled with numerous sites of past violence and empty spaces visibly marked by decay and wasted potential.

When Zelda tells Link and Midna that “these dark times are the result of our deeds,” she is referring to specific historical acts of imperialistic aggression. Hyrule established hegemony over its outlying territories by crushing the rebellions against its advances, but the kingdom has suffered from cultural stagnation as a result. Without the dynamic diversity symbolized by Ganondorf, Hyrule finds itself in economic and political decline, isolated from any contact with the world beyond its shrinking borders.

As a representative of a marginalized group of people who have been attacked and driven from their homes, Ganondorf is a tangible manifestation of the horrors of imperialism. He must be defeated, but doing so does not address the underlying problems that have resulted in Hyrule’s decline. I therefore want to argue that Twilight Princess uses Ganondorf to deliver a subtle yet poignant protest against the discourses of empire reflected by the dualistic “light and shadow” rhetoric of heroism that has resulted in tragedy and regret.

Keep reading

#oughhhhhh #oghhnkn eepy time yeah never agian #i have a whole thing about the triforce i wanted to say all this shit because of corruption and power but im so tired and ucked up what if #draw like crazy tomorrow or something like oh hbhbgb but uhhhhhh anyways anyways #now that i dont ffeel like i goot wAIT THE CHAINS BREAKING MAMA DIDNT RAISE A QUITTER #but like idk i dont like fightig or anything online i was just so??????????????? when Ezlo got hit for no reason like hi dont do that they #werent apart of this like #idk maybe im just a little venomus rn too but i also uh....would not be mkaing repeat posts where you wax academic about post colonial #ghosts but can reblog more then 8 posts for palestine in over a year??? like thats mean to say but with the context of Ori....#yeesh #idk bad look. there are real people to care about and this is why i dont wanna do internet discourse no more #its just stupid as hell and i have become SOOOOO normal #god lets hope i didnt eave lose ends i look ill rn ive been up over uh..........36 hours for some ungodley reason #wasnt even writing this the whole time i was clotecting eggs and laying down some diatematious earth for these birds #oh and then i get like.....IM GONN DRAW GANONDORF #I GOT AN ASK ABOUT HIM AND HES BEEN ROTATING IN MY HEAAADDDDDD #OOOOOOOO DORFFYDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #Anyways back to my shit i will hopefull never be this mean again because its fucking exausting #but like bunch of dudes in your dms like LOOK AT THIS and you go oh YEESH i am so sorry i was a teen when that happened #well anyways im gonna be doing my little tasks and stuff tomorrow cuz #AS I SAID THE CHAINS! I CAN FINALLY KRILL MYSELF (srimp dinner)#one of these days i need to designn this fursona i have in my head and post it #i got so many things to dooooooooo and yet #alright well that was a waste of time #maybe ill come back to this and point at myself like you should of grabbed sunset perril by the throat about the wold cock thing #okay it was average it wasnt even Terato i wanted to SCREAM #this is not normal right? dude come on get weird with that shit #oh shit i should play bloodborne agAIN WAIT IS ELDENRING CO OP A THING #oh i would FUCK SO SEVERLY IN THERE #I May get webfishing soon but after i do some stuff

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dxckgrxsonx · 2 months ago

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Between his Teeth

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 2.1k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - Biting Biting BITING!! - Lil mention of choking - Unprotected Sex - Multiple Orgasms - (F) Receiving Oral - Possessive!Jason - Overstimulation - Swearing - Crying - Dirty Talk - Fluff at the End :) Notes: Happy New Year! it’s been awhile since i've posted anything of a decent length so um?? hi?? Not sure how im feeling about the quality of this but inspiration struck and here we are! i hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

Here's the thing: there are nights in Gotham where patrol slows down. It's not a regular occurrence, something more akin to an irregularity really–but it happens. And when it does you're faced with an interesting quirk, a personality trait most would consider concerning.

Or dangerous.

Jason Todd gets bored.

His baseline as standard is marked unnatural. The death of a child recognised and reversed. Murdered soul poured back into what feels like a brand new unmarked body–everything once recognizable to him lost by a pool of Lazarus green. A pool on some nights he can still taste like bile in the back of his throat.

Patrol slows down and Jason finds himself molar deep in something terrifyingly restless.

Sometimes, the fight never materialises and Jason, who's been fighting across two different lifetimes, doesn't quite know how to react in the face of it. There's always been a cathartic edge to combat, a catch and release that leaves him breathless and exhilarated all at once. Adrenaline is one hell of a defence mechanism, swells right up to the top of his head, and if there's no decompression at the end of it his skin buzzes, eyes glowing bright and haloed in Lazarus green.

And so when patrol gets slow, Jason seeks out the brilliance of release by fucking you absolutely stupid.

He’s got two stupidly talented hands and they’re touching you everywhere.

The base of your spine, the shivering curve of your waist, two fingers hooked into your smart mouth to wrench every little sound out of your chest. His cock is thick and heavy and every thrust into your spasming cunt burns like he’s tearing you open.

“Fucking Christ–” A heaving, half delirious whine vibrates against his fingers like a phantom echo of your voice and Jason grins when your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He grins because taking you to pieces like this is the absolute best, most unbelievably satisfying way to burn through the frightening magnitude of energy stirring in his veins. “Ugh shit! Are you coming again? You greedy little thing.”

He can feel you squeezing at his cock, your pussy clenched up so tight it’s almost like fucking his own goddamn fist.

Jason pulls his fingers from your mouth–the digits now dripping in spit–and curls them oh so sweetly around your throat. He tightens his grip, forces you to work for your breath and the drag of air under his palm forces blood to swell up to Jason's head.

He watches you carefully, catalogues the curve of your mouth, the way your eyes roll into the back of your skull, the bliss and trust you tuck under his skin.

Fingers flex tighter and your mouth moves but instead of words, he gets a low, drawn out moan.

“Of course you are. You just can’t help it, can you?” He pulls his hand up and away from your throat, grabs firmly at your chin, and you jolt like a live wire, eyelids fluttering, thighs shaking horribly around his hips. Pressing forwards, Jason grunts at how wet you are, the base of his cock ringed in your creamy arousal. “You can take it though. You will take it. Just for me, because you’re such a good girl.”

A broken noise drags up your throat and Jason gets the flaring urge to have something–fucking anything–between his teeth.

It's not the first time he's looked at you and clamped his jaw around the desire to mark you. The possessive flicker igniting something of near biblical proportion in his veins. You're something wonderful. A person he adores beyond measure.

There's times you look at him like he's everything and it makes him feel brand new, born into a universe where home is nothing but you and your two hands that have never once hurt him.

He thinks the urge comes from that, comes from the desperation of wanting to broadcast you as his, of never wanting to be apart.

Your head tips back, throat bare, and Jason doesn’t hesitate–not even for one single second–a feral sort of thing bubbling up from the bottom of his spine.

He bites you.

He bites you so hard your vision collapses in on itself, existence bursting into a kaleidoscope of colour.

Jason sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin above your pulse point and you choke as if he’s slipped a knife underneath your rib to steal your breath. You choke and you clench up so tight around his cock he can’t fucking move.

Your knees draw up in a desperate attempt to wedge between you, back arching into the bed. You twist your hips against his weight and you grab at his shoulders, his hair, nails scratching a long line down his back, but Jason simply renders you immobile, reminds you he’s buried balls deep in your pussy and has no intention of being anywhere else.

It’s not quite pain, but it’s a blunt sort of thing at the very edge of the scale and blood rushes up under your skin to greet each indent left behind. The sting of it detonates something permanent in your psyche, life unmoored between his teeth.

Jason pulls back and he licks at his teeth, there’s no blood, but the action alone makes you swelter nonetheless. You think it might be the look on his face, the flicker of something promising devastation in his eyes.

“Fuck you.” It’s your own voice, breathless, trapped between aggravation and arousal. “How am I supposed to cover that up?”

Jason drags his fingers down to your cunt and rubs at your fat, swollen clit. Every thought fractures apart in your mouth, vowels and consonants splintering into pieces that dissolve on your tongue. You know that’s what he wanted. You don’t care.

“You’re mine.” Jason says, like that in itself is an explanation. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

The bite mark on your throat looks brutal even to his own eyes. A perfect match to every tooth in his mouth. Your skin is starting to puff up a little, irritation blossoming into a wicked bruise. Jason hums–mostly to himself–and fucks into you hard enough that there’s an obscene squelch of your pussy every time he bottoms out.

You’re perfect. You’re his. He wants you to come again.

“I can’t. Ah fuck! Not again–” The pitch of your voice climbs when his pace fails to falter, sticky fingers still strumming at your clit. He can feel it throbbing despite you coming twice already, and he wonders how many he can get out of you this time. “Jason–I don’t think…I can’t.”

“That’s it, empty that pretty little head of yours. You don’t need to think, y’just need to keep squeezing that sweet cunt around my cock, yeah? You’re so wet for me, and you know what that means?”

A sobs works free from your mouth, thighs clenching tight around his strong hips, each thrust into your peach flesh cunt makes Jason feel like he’s bursting out of his own skin. You close your eyes in the face of pure, overwhelming pleasure and he can see how wet your lashes are.

“Ugh–no don’t–” A whimper hooks into the back of your throat. “Don’t fucking say it.”

Jason grins, half wicked, even though he knows you can’t see it, “It means you like this, little bird. You might complain and try to get away, but your pretty little pussy can’t lie to me.” Your face screws up. Jason fucks you harder, his thick thighs smacking against your ass. He pauses his movements on your clit and listens to the pitch of your whine wobble in disappointment. “You want to come again, don’t you? Hm. No. You need to come again.”

“Nooo.” You try, embarrassment flustering up your neck. “I can’t. Please. S’too much.”

Your eyes blink open and Jason thinks it’s so sweet when you’re on the verge of tears whilst he’s fucking you. Your hands reach out to grab his shoulders, to search for comfort, and you cry out his name when he touches your poor, oversensitive clit. Jason licks at the mark on your throat, his tongue catching against the swell of your near broken skin and your cunt tries to force him out.

"Let me fuck your pussy, sweetheart. Don't push me out like that."

Another desperate cry when he forces your pussy to yield to his powerful thrusts and you suddenly gush around his cock. Wetness soaks his thighs and Jason huffs in amusement when he hears you heave in a strangled breath, then sob, tears streaming down your face.

You’ve never done that before.

By the time he’s finished–by the time he’s worked through the insistent pulse of pure restlessness and settled back into what he considers a post patrol, or postcoital haze–he thinks he’ll make you do that once more at least.

Jason quietly appears behind you the next afternoon as you glance in the mirror, gentle fingers probing at the huge mark splattered on your neck.

His approach is eclipsed by silence and you’re struck with the awe of how quiet he can be when he wants to. The talent and skill that must go into knowing how to plant yourself so no sound escapes your trajectory, it’s staggering, and slightly alarming.

You can easily trace the outline of Jason’s bite and there’s a heavy sort of discomfort when you touch it; the sensation of pressing on a bruise in the early stages of healing, not painful but heavy and aching, impossible to ignore.

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches upwards when your face flickers into a slight flinch, almost like he wants to smile in a self-satisfied sort of way–how typical of him to find satisfaction in something that has you labelled as owned (loved) but you meet his reflection in the mirror and settle on a half-hearted scowl.

“You’re a real dick, Todd. You know that?”

Tugging the neckline of your hoodie up, you just barely manage to cover the mark.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re not wearing pants.” Jason points out, redirecting the conversation by eyeing you appreciatively. “And I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

Memory sparks-your own desperate, fucked out voice flaring to the forefront-and you feel heat splash up your throat.

Ducking your head to avoid Jason's stare seems like a good idea, but you know with absolute certainty that he'll request you look at him regardless–he might even press a finger under your chin to tilt your head up–all because he wants to watch you fumble over your words like an idiot.

“Yeah, uh–that’s because you fucked me stupid.” He grins wolfishly at that, then his eyes flash with either an idea, or interest. Both of which are dangerous. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…don’t.”

Smoothing his hands from your waist, down to your hips, then the curve of your ass, Jason drops to his knees behind you. Your stomach swoops, the beat of your heart slipping temporarily out of rhythm. He hums thoughtfully and presses a kiss to the small of your back, then tugs your underwear to the side so one cheek is bare.

Confusion kicks up in your head, brain following one thread whilst Jason in typical fashion follows his own, “You've already eaten me out at least once today, for the love of fuck give me a break. Aren't you tired of eating me out?”

Jason positively growls.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." He grumbles, his tone nothing but a hard edge. "I'll never get tired of tasting your pretty cunt."

You figured that out already. Waking with his head between your thighs, talented tongue lapping at your swelling clit until you sigh his name so prettily, falling apart as he holds you open by sheer force. Reminded again when you settle down for lunch in the kitchen and Jason sits you on the counter so he can nose at your slit, mouth wrapping around your sensitive clit and sucking until you cry.

Sometimes he might as well be dating your pussy and not you.

You feel the warmth of his breath for a single, shining moment, "Then what the hell are you doin–"

He bites you.

On your goddamn ass cheek.

“There. Now you can’t complain because the only person who’s going to see that is me.”

Spinning around in retaliation you glance down and level Jason with a glaringly unimpressed look, “Yeah, congratulations. But you’ve failed to consider one very important thing.”

“No I haven't." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What else is there to consider?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sit down?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood x reader smut #red hood smut #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #ella writes #it feels...weird posting an actual fic again #missed you all <3

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nxuvillette · 1 year ago

Text

“I PROMISE, IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.”

GENSHIN MEN COMFORTING YOU AFTER A FIGHT

synopsis: you and your boyfriend hardly ever fight, so what happens when you finally have one?

❥- including : tartaglia (childe), cyno, kaeya, wriothesley

❥- note : hi guys !! sorry if this post is kind of shit, i kind of rushed it. i hope you guys enjoy regardless <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, angst, arguing, hurt with comfort, use of pet names (baby), fluff, dumb fights, lots and lots of fluff at the end.

♡ TARTAGLIA (CHILDE)

you and childe hadn’t spoken for much of the day, and this was due to an argument that happened between you two just before you sat down for some breakfast.

it was stupid, genuinely.

childe had completely misinterpreted something you had said that morning. you were talking about one of your friends and their relationship. for some reason, childe thought you were comparing your relationship to the one your friend had, and it made him question if he was doing enough to make you happy. one thing led to another, and the two of you bickered over the encounter. you tried to explain yourself, but your boyfriend, being the stubborn man he was, didn’t bother to listen and went off on his own accord.

you and childe hardly had any fights. they would usually resolve after an hour or two, but you hadn’t seen him all day. part of you began to grow worried from his sudden absence. did he go out and do something to hurt himself? was he with somebody else? no, there was no way childe would ever cheat on you. he didn’t even look in another woman’s direction when he saw you that day.

it wasn’t until sunset when childe had finally returned home to you. he had a few scrapes on his arms which seemed like they came from him battling another enemy, but regardless, he seemed to be in one piece. you were very relieved to see that he was fine. it made you run into his arms the moment he came into the door, which took your boyfriend by surprise. he was under the impression that you were still pissed off at him for the shit that he had pulled early on in the day. he knew he was wrong and he should have apologized, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. sometimes he wished he wasn’t so air headed.

his arm went around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. the smell of his skin made you calm down. “i thought something bad happened to you..” your eyes didn’t move from the floor.

childe could sense the worry that was in your voice. he shouldn’t have done that to you. he would never want to make you feel scared or put you under the idea that he would leave you. he wasn’t going to ever leave like that again, ever. “i’m sorry, baby..” he whispered, running his fingers along your backside. “i’m such an idiot.. i shouldn’t have said that shit. i love you way too much to hurt you..”

you lifted your head to meet his ocean blue eyes. he had this frown on his features. you could see how guilty he felt for putting you in such a position. no matter what, you would always be in love with childe. no small argument would make your feelings for him shift, ever. you knew he could be stubborn at times, and honestly, so could you. all that mattered to you in the end was that you two made up and forget the whole thing. “it’s okay.. i still love you, okay?” you smiled at him, which made his heart skip a beat.

childe couldn’t help but smile, too. he leaned towards you and planted a kiss on your lips. he didn’t ever want to see you frown again. he would do anything to see a smile on your pretty face. “let me make up for it.. how about we take a bath together, hm?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

you nodded your head. “sure..” you grinned.

♡ CYNO

you didn’t expect cyno to get upset earlier.

cyno was in a bit of a rush that afternoon. he had a lot of things to tend to as the mahamatra, so he typically had a busy schedule. at the time, you had no idea that he had to be somewhere at a certain hour, so when you saw your lover wandering around aaru village by himself, you decided to go and talk with him to ask how his day was.

he kept his responses to you a bit shorter than usual, but that’s how he usually was. cyno was more the type of man to listen more than he did talk, but the more you kept speaking, the more he grew somewhat irritated. he had to meet with candace and discuss something that had occurred on his way there. he had to return as quickly as possible, though, because there were several people who needed his help out there.

cyno had accidentally snapped at you, which in turn made you fire back at him.

it was very out of the ordinary for him to ever get angry with you. cyno was very patient, and he was especially with you. he was never the kind of man to be rude to you or yell at you, ever, so this threw you off completely. before he could even apologize, you left and went back to the place you two shared together.

he didn’t return home until later that night. he had been thinking about what he had done all day, and it made him feel guilty for being that way towards you. you were his girlfriend. he loved you more than anybody else, and he managed to hurt your feelings because he was unable to control his very own. cyno hoped you wouldn’t want to leave him. anxiety plagued him the entire day. he wondered if he would return back to you and find that you deserted the home you two stayed in.

much to his relief, you were lying in bed. you were turned on your side that was facing the window which exposed the vast desert outside. he sat down beside you and watched as your eyes fluttered open at the sudden weight taking over the bed.

“i’m sorry..” cyno whispered, looking down at you with amber eyes.

you sat up, crossing your legs on the mattress. you didn’t think he would come back being so apologetic, but you couldn’t help but forgive him. it did hurt your feelings a lot, but he was dealing with so much. it didn’t excuse what he did, but you two never fight. he wasn’t argumentative everyday. “it’s okay.. i just felt like shit for bothering you. i should have considered your schedule..” you didn’t want to look at him, but he tilted your chin to look into your eyes.

cyno leaned in and hugged you, which took you by surprise. “no need.. i was an asshole for not controlling myself. you didn’t deserve any of that..” he squeezed your body. “i love you.. i hope you can forgive me.”

your hand rested on his shoulder blade. his skin felt warm from the blazing heat of the sun that he was under constantly. “i love you too..” you spoke. “i can forgive you, no worries.”

♡ KAEYA

you and kaeya had been dating for quite a while. since you were his girlfriend, there were some things that you needed to get accustomed to in the relationship.

especially kaeya’s drinking habit.

you didn’t mind that he would go off to the bars some nights to have a few drinks with his friends. hell, you did it a few times yourself with your own friends, but it became an issue when he would come late to your dates due to him being hungover the next day. you knew he couldn’t help but sleep an extra hour or two through the morning, but it had happened a few times and it led up to an argument occurring between you. you claimed it was a bother to you and he wasn’t being considerate of your time and energy.

what made it worse was kaeya usually was the one to make these plans, so for him to just not show up, it felt unfair to you. if he knew he was going to drink a lot, why would he continue to make plans with you the next day? it didn’t make any sense to you whatsoever, and you were tired of him either not showing up or having to go to his house to wake him up.

when you stormed out of his house and the door slammed behind you, kaeya felt immediate regret plaguing his chest. he did everything for you in the relationship and you did the same for him. he felt like he was an idiot for letting his drinking habits get a hold of your relationship. he didn’t have a drinking problem by any means, but he knew when he had too much he wouldn’t want to do anything the next day. you were right. it was unfair of him to miss out on spending quality time with you. he didn’t want to make you feel unimportant or a second priority. kaeya loved you more than life itself. how could he hurt the one person he poured his heart and soul into?

he gave you a bit of time to blow off steam. he knew chasing after you could escalate things further, so he decided to leave you alone for the rest of the day. however, he wasn’t about to let you both go to bed angry with each other.

so, when he showed up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, you were quite surprised. you didn’t think kaeya would even bother making an effort to talk things through with you, but he was standing there with an apologetic expression. “can we talk? i understand if not.. but i just don’t want you going to bed pissed at me.” he clutched the flower stems in his hand, hoping you would hear him out.

you nodded your head, inviting him into your home and watching him step inside. kaeya then turned to face you, handing the flowers in your direction. they were your favorite, lamp grass. you loved the way they glowed in the dark. “kaeya.. i’m-“ you started, taking the flowers from him.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to keep missing out on our dates. i was a shitty boyfriend for keeping up with my behavior, and i shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.” he cut you off, shocking you. “i love you, (y/n), and i don’t want you to think otherwise.”

you stood there for a few moments in silence. you weren’t sure what to say to him, but you could sense his genuine energy in his voice. “i forgive you..” you said, lifting your eyes to meet his. “i don’t want it to happen again, okay? i love to spend time with you and i don’t wanna feel like you dislike my presence.”

he took your free hand into his, placing a soft kiss on the top of it. he had been a gentleman since day one and it seemed like that attribute of him never left his personality. “i love seeing you more than anybody else, please don’t think you’re a burden. i’d do anything to spend any waking moment with you by my side, okay? i won’t ever do it again.” kaeya replied, stepping closer to where you were standing.

you smiled, pressing a kiss on the side of his cheek. he loved how soft your lips felt against his skin. “i appreciate that..” you sounded much happier, which relieved him.

kaeya wasn’t going to do that ever again. he could never lose you, ever.

♡ WRIOTHESLEY

wriothesley was quite a busy man. it was something you knew you were signing up for when you started to date him a few months back. his job was tiring, exhausting even. he had a huge responsibility on his shoulders to carry, and sometimes it stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

it seemed like that stress began to reach its breaking point, because wriothesley hadn’t been acting right over the last few days. you assumed he was just dealing with his job, so you decided to try and see if venting would have any relief to your boyfriend. you two had done it many times before when things got a little hectic in your personal lives. plus, you both trusted each other greatly. you didn’t think he would have an issue with it.

well, you were wrong, unfortunately.

when you made the attempt to speak to your boyfriend about what was wrong, he had a serious attitude, and things escalated to you two both having a fight. you didn’t like the way he was speaking to you and he was becoming upset with you for no reason at all. all you had asked him was if he wanted to talk, but it seemed like that question alone must have ruffled his feathers.

you two never fought, so this had completely blindsided you.

wriothesley then left for work, leaving you by yourself in the apartment you lived in. it wasn’t your intention to make him angry with you. all you wanted to know was what was troubling him to make him feel so overwhelmed. that fact crept up on wriothesley immediately after he entered his office at the fortress. he shouldn’t have snapped at you that way. it wasn’t right, nor was it excusable. he was the one person who was supposed to make you happy, not hurt.

a few hours later, he returned home a lot earlier than usual. things were slow at the fortress, so he decided to leave early and try to patch things up with you. he found you sitting on the couch with a book in your hands, seemingly trying to read away what had happened earlier between you. you were a bit taken back to see him standing in front of you, but you didn’t know what to say to him.

“i’m sorry.. i was out of line earlier.” he broke the silence between you. it was like popping a balloon. “i get it if you’re pissed at me.. i can give you space if you’d like.”

you sat there for a few moments. you closed the book in your hands and placed it on the wooden table in front of you. wriothesley was right. he shouldn’t have been that much of an ass to you. you didn’t deserve such treatment, but you loved him. he was never like that towards you and your friends had told you before that random fights are normal. “it’s okay.. i forgive you.” you replied, standing up to go in front of him. “please.. just promise me you won’t do that again.”

his hands went to cup your cheeks. his thumbs brushed against your smooth skin. you could see how guilty he felt for doing what he had done. “i promise.. i swear, (y/n), i’ll never do that again. i could never hurt you like that, ever again.” he looked down at you with sincerity on his features.

you leaned in to hug him. wriothesley inhaled the fresh scent of your shampoo and felt immediately calmed from your touch. he loved you, dearly. he could never do that to you again and he vowed to never pull a stunt like that with you ever again.

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urdepressedslut · 2 years ago

Note

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

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brbsoulnomming · 3 months ago

Text

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 6

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #robin buckley

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suiana · 6 months ago

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imagine sitting on a train, expecting a short ride but the ride just never ends. and no, it's not a 'the brakes are broken' scenario.

you were just taking a train to like, a nearby suburb to visit your friends like usual. everything was fine. all things were like what they normally were. ticketing station, the weird old man who tells you that they're watching you, and the cute highschool student who frequently tells you stories about his school life.

you board the train like usual, nothing out of the ordinary. you find an empty seat and put on your earphones. you decide you want a calm and soothing song that day. looking out of the window, you hum softly and anticipate what you and your friends are going to do.

that's when you realize you've seen that sign post two times already.

you nervously look around your surroundings, hoping to find someone else who's also realized what's going on.

but there's no one else in the carriage. oh, wait, actually no. you also have the highschool boy.

"hey kid, um, did you notice anything off? like uh-"

"hm? oh, it's you mx."

the boy's voice is deeper than usual as he continues looking out of the window. you frown at his reaction before trying to get an answer out of him again... only for him to turn and completely scare the shit out of you.

that. that was not the face of a human. not when his eyes were all black and curved into tiny moons. not when his lips were stretched so wide that he resembled the stupid 😄 emoji. not when his mouth looked like a bottomless pit of nothing that could swallow you alive. not when his skin was paper white and his body now elongated to look something like a sexy slenderman if that was even possible. not when he didn't resemble a human anymore.

"darling, what's wrong? you don't like my face? I'm really hurt."

his voice is deep as he continues staring at you from his seat. he makes no sign of movement, merely looking down at you with a tilt of his head before a soft giggle comes out.

what the shit? were you in a horror movie now?

screaming and falling onto the floor behind you, you shiver and try escaping. no, you had to leave. you couldn't die now!

scrambling to the help button, you try to get help. surely the technician could try and get help for you? you desperately press the help button, glancing warily at the high school boy that you were sure was actually a 6009 year old demon that decided to possess a body of a kid for the mere fun of it.

"huh? baby? what's up?"

baby? what? first darling, now baby? what's up with these men? you stare at the help panel before whimpering for help. unfortunately the male voice over the line only fills you with more dread.

"you wanna leave? no can do baby. don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

you don't like the way he said good. what the hell was that supposed to mean? for all you know it could mean imprison you in the train for the rest of your life!

"also I'm in the carriage beside Mr. Driver so if you wanna leave that weird shapeshifter beside you feel free to hop over."

beside... you?

you are suddenly hyperaware of every single thing around you and wait a second, why the hell did you feel a suspicious person breathing down your neck?

"leave my dear alone, you creep."

the air around you seems to loosen up as the weird shapeshifter demon backs up. damn, what good timing. you were just about to thank your saviour when the familiar feeling of dread returns, and even worse this time.

he was a handsome guy. tall, well dressed, and absolutely damn gorgeous. he was wearing all black, a black fedora on his head as he smiles at you with his pearly white teeth. reassurance. yet, you felt as though if you dared to disrespect him, your life would be over before you even knew it.

you stay rooted in your place, your mouth running dry as the male steps closer to you. each step of his felt like a step closer to death and... was it just you or were you feeling light headed now?

"i am afraid i cannot touch you, my dear. for your life will be drained with each fleeting touch. but i must say that it is good to finally meet you physically."

death.

you were so damn sure that the man in front of you right now was the grim reaper or maybe even death himself. your whole body was shaking at this point, his very presence making you feel as though an invisible force was pushing you down into the ground and squeezing you tight. it was hard to even breathe.

"ah, sorry. i forgot living beings are ever so fragile. my sincerest apologies, my dear."

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the driver's announcement makes you feel like you're about to throw up.

"welcome aboard the hell train, sweetheart. you are now on the line to ǝɹǝɥʍou. please enjoy the rest of your ride!"

shit, so you really were about to get stuck on this train forever.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere train #yandere train x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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so-writing · 9 days ago

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don't forget to water the plants (2) -- Quinn Hughes

Read part one here! It is missing Quinn hours, enjoyyyyy!

It should be easy to pull the tattered sticky note off the window and toss it into the trash, along with the dead and dying plants you left for Quinn to dispose of.

Not cool, he thinks to himself as he places a new piece of tape over the dried edges of the post it note, not fucking cool.

It’s all he can think of at the moment, because he’s too busy putting pots into the sink for water and cleaning up dead leaves that had fallen to the ground. If he’s being honest, he’s never really given a fuck about your plants.

Until you stopped giving a fuck about them, because, what the fuck? Why would you leave them behind? You took everything, every ounce of you, erased from the home you once shared and you left your plants behind?

It didn’t make sense to Quinn.

Until it did.

The only plant missing, as much as he didn’t want to admit to realizing it, was your snake plant. Your favorite one. The only one you bought together.

“I think I want this to be the one?”

“You don’t sound so sure,” Quinn comes up and hugs you from behind, “it doesn’t have to be this one.”

“No,” you shrug him off with a laugh while he pretends to pout, “this is the one.”

“Fine,” Quinn rolls his eyes and pretends to be irritated, “but we’ve got to make sure that this one grows and thrives the best. It’s the most important one.”

“It will, we’ll make sure.”

Quinn doesn’t realize how deeply he feels until he’s hunched over the bathroom sink trying not to throw up. Salty tears slid down his cheeks and into his hoodie and no amount of heavy breathing and water settle his stomach. He wants to empty his body of everything that has anything to do with you because he knows he fucked up.

If he’s able to get every piece of you out of him, maybe he can move on in peace.

Several weeks pass. Quinn is dealing with an upper body injury that keeps him off the ice and he has more than enough time to sit with his thoughts because of it.

He can’t move on, because he doesn’t fucking want to.

Quinn has decided that he isn’t ready to give you up, even though he already did, because he made a mistake.

The air in Vancouver is cold in early March and Quinn hurries into the greenhouse as fast as his feet can carry him. He talks to the people working about nearly every plant in the place before he settles on one he thinks is the best.

“Thank you,” he smiles at the cashier, “have a great day.”

He’s quick to leave and gentle with placing the new plant in the passenger’s seat of his car and buckling the seatbelt around it because why not?

The drive back to Quinn’s apartment, the one you used to share, is short and he treats his new purchase like it’s worth a million dollars as he removes it from the car and takes it inside.

She isn’t pricey, but she’s worth more than anything Quinn has ever touched. He isn’t sure why you don’t have one already.

Quinn carefully removes her from the back of his car and walks gently up to his apartment with her in his hands. He sets the pot on the top shelf, the one with the most sunlight, and snaps a picture of her.

It’s a risky move, the two of you haven’t had any contact in several months and Quinn knows you don’t want to talk to him. He can’t help himself though, he has to try one more time.

'Hope you’re well.’

He snaps a photo of the plant, a philodendron—pink princess—and sends the message before tossing his phone on the couch and starting to spiral.

“Hope you’re well? How fucking stupid? Obviously? Does it even make sense?”

Quinn is too busy talking himself off and then back on and over a ledge to hear his phone vibrate against his plush couch cushions. He doesn’t expect any response at all, but you read it immediately and, despite your hesitancy to be in his life again, you respond.

Well, you roll your eyes and pretend to be unbothered by Quinn’s text, shit.

You can barely believe you’re even hearing from him, let alone seeing a photo of a plant he purchased on his own. He has never given a damn about your green thumb, so there’s something deeply annoying this.

It’s so nice that he’s purchased a plant, one you love, and is trying to give it the best life he can. Really, it’s wonderful, and he probably thinks he’s doing a good thing and working his way into your good graces.

And, he would be there, if it wasn't months after the two of you ended your relationship. Quinn could buy a million fucking plants and treat them like goddamn royalty and he still wouldn’t get it.

Because it’s too late.

It feels like a final nail in the coffin. It feels like the end credits of a movie you spent entirely too long paying attention to and wasn’t even that good of a watch. It feels like it’s actually, truly over.

Because,

Quinn didn’t give a damn about your plants when you were together. He didn’t care at all about the love and care you put into them when you were in his life. He was never interested in learning about them or caring for them. They were just things, your things, that lived in your home and needed attention.

Now,

He is suddenly interested in and buying one of your favorite plants and seemingly treating it like gold. Which is great, that is absolutely great, but it’s too late, for you anyway.

For the first time in a long time, because you’ve spent so much time missing Quinn so fucking much, you truly feel done.

'It’s lovely. Don’t forget to water it.'

#nhl imagine #hockey imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader

236 notes · View notes

shellshocklove · 10 months ago

Text

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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selencgraphy · 6 months ago

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— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

5 - remembering a trivial fact about them

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader

TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)

A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 597

masterlist || request box <3

You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two.

Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood.

Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.

"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."

"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"

He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.

"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.

A couple days later…

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.

So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.

For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan

Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor—your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.

“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.

#logan howlett fluff #logan howlett fic #xmen fic #wolverine #wolverine fic #wolverine fluff #wolverine angst #marvel #marvel fic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #hugh jackman #logan howlett #xmen

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 2 months ago

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P*rn ☆ Chapter 5, Drive me crazy

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: This one is a doozy. I was a little stuck and I hope this makes sense. Next chapter will explain a little more about Sylus' life before moving next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

1 pm and you're just now making your first coffee along with your breakfast/lunch. You're not used to late nights anymore. Not like you were when you were still in school and partying. Well, "partying." Aka movie night with your friends and making stupid drinking games around the movies you were watching.

Lucky for you, it's Saturday. You've got a whole weekend left to fix your sleeping schedule. Fixing is a big word. Make it so that you've at least had seven hours of sleep before you get to work.

While lazily reading Tara's dramatic retelling of getting Kieran into bed, you notice a notification. One that usually only pops up when Red Crow, or Sylus, posts but it's Saturday. That's not his usual schedule. Frowning, you check the notification.

Red Crow liked your comment: "Raw, next question."

You feel as if you've just shat out your heart. "Cocky," you think to yourself as you tap the notification. It takes you to the comments under the video from last night and that's when you notice it... Your biggest nightmare.

You were horny on main instead of on your alt account and now he probably knows it was you. But now comes the real big question. Do you leave it there as a testament to your thirst for him, or do you delete it in hopes he hasn't noticed it was you to protect your sanity? You scroll a little through the comments and quickly notice that Sylus never likes any comments. "Shit, he definitely knows."

Still, you decide to delete the comment. If he saw it when he was drunk yesterday, then maybe there's a chance he doesn't remember or was just fucking around on his phone. The moment the comment disappears from your screen, there's a knock at your door. You're not sure who it could be. Maybe it's Tara. Did she leave anything yesterday? Or Kieran forced by Tara to apologize? But he would go to Sylus’ house for that.

By the time you're done wrecking you're brain, you're already opening the door and there stands the one and only Sylus. Suddenly there are no more thoughts in your brain, just the picture of Sylus in front of your door wearing grey sweatpants and a black tee that seems a size or two too small. You can see every muscle on his stomach and chest through the shirt. However, that's not even the best part. The best part is that he stretches and moves one hand behind his neck, making his tee rise up and showing the little happy trail that you've salivated over more times than you'd like to admit.

'Hey, sorry to bother you but I'm out of coffee.'

'Go to the store,' you grumble and try to close the door again but he pushes against it.

'Let me try that again,' he says, a playful but subtle grin on his lips, 'I'd like get to know you better over coffee. Preferably at your place.' It seems getting your brain fried is a regular occurrence when Sylus is around and you are suddenly awfully aware of how you look.

Yes, you showered this morning, but you aren't exactly dressed. You threw on a shirt and a big sweater over top with some absurdly stupid miffy pajama shorts. Your words get stuck in your throat and you only seem to be able to mutter out a weak: 'Why?'

He chuckles in response, the sound rumbling through his chest. 'You intrigue me. I'm curious what's going on in that pretty little head of yours.'

"He called me pretty," is the only thought that sticks and you want to hit yourself over the head for only picking up that part, but you remind yourself of the video he had made after meeting you. He must have ulterior motive. 'Nothing else?' A sly smirk appears on his face, like he had been banking on you asking a question like that. Like he had been practicing his response, and it comes out sticky as honey.

'Only with your willing participation.' You try to keep your bratty attitude but it's hard when he is so damn beautiful and so damn close and so damn hot. Goddamn!

'In your dreams, big boy,' you sass, 'come in before I change my mind.'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

There's a tense sort of feeling as you both sit on your couch with coffee in your hands. He keeps watching your movements, almost as if he's studying you or stalking his prey. It makes you feel on edge and at the same time, insanely turned on. To push him off balance, you decide to ask a question that had been hanging in your head for a while now.

'How'd you get into it?'

'It?' He's teasing. His lip quirks up into a smirk again. He wants to hear you say it, hear you say what he does, wants to watch your reaction to it. You feel strangely alien in your own space.

'Porn.' You try to keep a straight face, but you can feel your ears heat up the slightest bit, and he fucking notices. You can tell he fucking notices. He's noticed everything so far. It's so fucking hot and so fucking annoying at the same time. You can only imagine how attentive he would be as a partner.

'I was doing voice acting for a while and got hired for some smut books,' he explains like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's the same as any office job, 'and I liked reading those books and the reaction people had to my voice. So, I tried my hand at posting some pictures of myself to see if people liked my voice and my body. After that I kind of rolled into it.' He takes a second to study your reaction and then asks you: 'And what do you do?'

'Interior decorating.' He nods.

'So I should've met you before I started decorating my place.'

'I don't work for free,' you retort.

'Neither do I,' he says, that damn smirk on his face again, 'but your reaction was more than enough payment for that video.' You're sure you're bright red now.

'I didn't request your services.' Why did you invite him in? Are you that desperate? He puts his mug on the coffee table and takes yours out of your hands to set it down next to his. Then he leans over you, one arm on top of the backrest of your couch, the other gripping the armrest behind you. Naturally, you lean back a little bit, tilting your head up to look at his face. He doesn't look predatory, nor dangerous. In fact, you feel like if you would say no right now, he would go home in an instant. It's strangely comforting.

'See it as a free trial.' He is impossibly close, closer than a stranger should be. Then again, you're not really strangers, are you? You are to him, but he's been on your mind for quite some time now. He's toying with you, he seems to want you for some reason. Barely knows you but it feels so familiar, so nice. You feel desired and... sexy.

'A free trial for what?' You absentmindedly bite your lip. A low groan slips from his lips in response, and he shifts his position on the couch. With one swift motion, his one leg is kneeling on the couch while he pushes your legs onto the couch so you're laid underneath him, your back against the cushions. His lips are next to your ear now.

'Worship,' he growls and ever so gently takes your earlobe between his teeth. You whimper in surprise. He lets go and moves on to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbones. 'Pleasure.' The hand that was on the armrest moves to your waist, slipping under your shirt and you shiver. 'And sex.' His words sound like a promise. A promise you would offer up your life for. You feel breathless as he leans back a little bit to admire your figure. That damn smirk of his, back on his lips as he sees your lust filled eyes. He definitely knows that comment was yours. 'What do you say?'

'You don't even know me,' you manage to mutter.

'I know enough,' he answers and leans down to press a featherlight kiss on the corner of your lips. A strange surge of despair rushes through you and suddenly your hands are behind his neck, entangled in his grey hair, pulling him towards your lips. 'So needy,' he teases, readjusting his knee on the couch to be between your legs, 'I thought you were worried I didn't know you. You wouldn't want to take advantage of me, would you now?'

His lips are only a breath away from yours, his eyes stare into yours intently. You tell yourself it's just sex, yet there's something soft in the way he looks at you. Something you can't quite place, because he shouldn't be looking at you like that. You've only just met him. 'What are you thinking about?'

'Why me?' He doesn't have a quick nor sly response to that. You can tell you've caught him off guard. His eyes widen a little and his head moves away the slightest bit, but you can't tell if it's because you've just asked the dumbest question in existence or because he does not know either.

'There's something about you,' he tells you, his tone no longer teasing but as serious as he can get, 'it's intriguing and I want to find out what it is.'

'Because I gave you a hard on when we first met?' He cracks. His serious demeanor disappears for a second, as does the sexual tension when he sits up on his heel trying to stifle a laugh. The hand that was under your shirt is now on his face, rubbing his jaw to hide his smile.

'You've got a dirty mouth on you, sweetie,' he comments, trying to get back into it but you've already propped yourself up on your elbows with the cheekiest of grins on your face.

'Shouldn't you be used to those kinds of comments by now,' you say, trying to provoke him even more. Truly, you don't know what it is about him that brings your brat out but you don't hate it. It's fun.

'They're different when you read them on a screen,' he answers, sounding almost sincere. Almost. Only if you hadn't known what he proposed so sweetly just a minute ago.

'Maybe you take me out some time and I'll try to behave,' you offer, feeling as daring. This is all so new for you but it just flows. There's no good reason for why you feel this way and yet it's fucking exhilarating. You don't want any of it to stop, but your ovaries are running your brain right now and you can't trust them. Not when it comes to men. They've shown that to you before. You need a second to calm down before you engage in anything that could someday become regrettable to you.

Though you probably wouldn't have minded sleeping with him right here and now.

Sylus doesn't answer you, he just hands you his unlocked phone. You type in your number, already regretting it when you hand it back to him and see the grin on his face. You've just given him so much power to tease you. Well, you should regret it. You think you should.

In reality you can't wait for what's to come.

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