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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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a safe haven l six

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel opens up to you about a very traumatic loss; he makes a confession about his feelings towards you; you make a confession of your own and it leads to something more.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. fluff, infidelity, Joel and reader are having a full blown affair at this point, angst, talks of child loss (Sarah), lots of feelings come to the surface, two idiots realize they are in love. SMUT. oral sex (m receiving), size mention bc i will always be convinced our man is packing) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up pls), reader discovers she likes praise, creampie.

word count: 8.4k

August 2024

The next two and a half weeks that had passed by had done so without major incident, but things had taken a somewhat complicated turn.

You and Joel still manage to see one another a handful of times even with the exhausting amount of hours he’s been putting into his patrol duties, though it isn’t nearly as often as either of you wanted or would have preferred. But there was no other choice.

After numerous sightings of a group of potential raiders earlier on in the month, Tommy had no choice but to assign every last competent, able bodied patrol person, including himself, to work double shifts to ensure the safety and security of Jackson. He and Joel had come across the remnants of a campsite just about fifteen miles south of the settlement and they worried the group was hiding out, planning a violent, ambush attack on the community when it was least expected. Tommy had done his absolute best to keep the word from spreading throughout the commune to avoid causing a panic, but he found himself having to fess up when people went up to him and all but furiously demanded to know the truth—the real reason behind why their loved ones were now being asked to be on the other side of wall twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.

Joel, who you’d come to learn is one of the sharpest and strongest shooters out of everybody in Jackson besides his younger brother, reluctantly took on the role of lead patrolman. He had been assigned an absurd amount of double shifts to work, including the overnight routes, making it almost impossible for you to see each other. You’d understood he had no choice but to comply, but still—that didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with. Both of you tried to make the very best of what little time you managed to get together, but it hadn’t been nearly enough. As if not being able to see Joel wasn’t agonizing enough for you, the fact that he was out on the other side of the wall scared the hell out of you. The only way to keep yourself from losing your goddamn mind was to distract yourself.

You did everything that you could to keep your mind off Joel being out there. Burying yourself deeply into your work helped for the most part.

Besides that, Joel had asked you, as a favor to him, to keep a watchful eye on Ellie in light of his absence. You’d spend most of the day with her in the stables, you would have lunch with her in the mess hall along with Dina, and in the evening, you would go home and make dinner early enough to fix an extra plate of food for her so she had a nutritious homemade meal to enjoy instead of two decades old canned ravioli. You would take it over to her place and drop it off before Luke came home from the clinic. Ellie waited until it was late in the evening and he was asleep to return the plate back to you, and the two of you would take a lengthy, late night stroll through the town, keeping each other company for a while before heading off to bed. She hadn’t seemed to be all too concerned about Joel, but then again, Ellie had known better than you did that he could take care of himself out there just fine. If anything, you spending so much time with her had been more for your benefit than hers, and you started to suspect that just like Joel had asked you to keep an eye on Ellie, he had also asked her to keep an eye on you too. After all, you had made it abundantly clear to him that you were nervous about him being out on patrol while there was a possible threat looming in the shadows.

By the time the middle of August came around, no additional traces of the group had been found—they seemed to have vanished into thin air, causing a wave of relief to sweep through the town. Tommy and Maria finally decided to ease up and end the double shift assignments, allowing every single patrolman and woman to return to their normally scheduled work rotations. Joel went back to his usual early morning and afternoon patrol hours, which meant that the both of you could resume your clandestine meetings out behind the barn underneath the stars.

“I missed you,” you say, sighing out contentedly as you lean back against him.

You and Joel are sitting out on the large, vacant patch of field behind the barn, his soft, green flannel blanket acting as a barrier between your bodies and the itchiness of the grass the animals would graze on during the day. You’re nestled in between his long legs, your back against his warm chest as the two of you share the delicious, ripe peach he’d brought along with him as a surprise for you.

“Mm, probably not as much as I was missin’ you, sweet girl,” Joel replies with a hum before taking a bite of the fruit. Noticing there’s only a couple bites of it left, he reaches his arm around and holds it out for you, his bulging bicep straining against the sleeve of his faded black t-shirt. “Here, darlin’. Want you to go on and have the rest.”

“These will be out of season in a couple of months.” Giving a sad little pout to nobody in particular, you sigh again and sink your teeth into the peach. Through a small mouthful, you realize, “Who knows when we’ll ever get peaches around here again.”

Joel’s lips meet the spot on your neck right behind your ear and you feel him grin. “S’alright with me. I’ve got my sweet, perfect little peach right here. And I’ve got her all year round.”

You playfully elbow him in his chest. After polishing off the rest of the peach, you lick off the pit and toss it out into the distance.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to litter,” he teases.

“It’s biodegradable,” you retort with a tiny laugh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder and gaze up, admiring the stars that sprinkle the velvet night skies. “Or at least, I think it is. Come to think of it, I never paid much attention in life science when I was in FEDRA school. It was my least favorite subject.”

You gather your hair in your hand, bringing it over your shoulder to keep it out of Joel’s face.

“Mm,” he whispers, licking his lips as his eyes fall to the delicate flesh of your exposed neck. He ghosts his mouth over your pulse point and his warm breath fans against your cool skin, prompting your eyes to flutter closed. “Just temptin’ me on purpose now, ain’t you, baby?”

“I would never do such a thing,” you object in an innocent tone, and he immediately clocks the smirk behind it. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you and while you’d normally welcome the peaceful, tranquil moment with him, tonight it feels impossible. You had gone so long without Joel over the last couple of weeks—at least, it had certainly felt long—and you realize one of things you’d missed most about him was the sound of his voice. “Ask me a question, Joel.”

“What kinda question can I ask, darlin’?”

Feeling brave, you offer, “You can ask me anything you want. No limits.”

Humming curiously to himself, he tries to think of something he hasn’t asked you before. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Really, Joel?” You snort, trying to mask your laughter as he rests his chin on your shoulder, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as he presses his cheek against yours. “I just told you that you can ask me anything you want and that’s your question? What’s my favorite color?”

“Yeah,” he answers, simply. “I wanna know what it is.”

He turns his head, lifting it off your shoulder to brush a gentle kiss to your temple. Joel could not, for the life of him, even remember the last time he’d shared this kind of physical tenderness with anybody. Forehead kisses, holding your hand, all sorts of little tokens of affection he didn’t think he could still be capable of giving to someone came to him so naturally with you. You had brought out an entirely different side of him, one that had been buried beneath his rough exterior for well over two decades, and the part that Joel still can’t quite wrap his own head around is that you’d done it with such ease. He’d go as far as to say that you had done it without even trying.

“So?” Joel prompts you. “What is it?”

“It’s brown,” you answer.

“Brown? Why brown?”

“Because. It’s earthy, it’s warm—and your eyes are brown,” you state, grinning to yourself as you feel his loud laugh rumble through his chest and against your back. “What about you? I mean that’s if Joel Miller even has a favorite color,” you giggle teasingly, placing a hand on one of his denim clad legs. You then add, “Actually, I’m kind of curious now. Do you have a favorite color, Joel?”

Joel hesitates, momentarily holding onto his answer.

“I do. It’s purple,” he finally responds after a brief bout of silence. “Purple’s my favorite color.”

“Purple,” you repeat after him, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. “Really?”

Joel chuckles. “What? That weird or somethin’?”

“Uh, sort of. For one, you just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a favorite color in the first place—and even if you’d told me you did, I would have never in a million years guessed that it was purple,” you admit, sheepishly. You trace a small circle around his knee with your finger and curiously ask him, “Why is purple your favorite color?”

“‘Cause. That’s my daughter’s favorite color.”

You scoff playfully. “Come on, Joel. Ellie’s favorite color sure as hell isn’t purple. Her favorite color is green. But red’s a close second.”

When he speaks again, his voice is so quiet you almost don’t hear him despite being in such close proximity.

“I ain’t talkin’ about Ellie.”

At first, it doesn’t quite register, but after a moment of processing, the pieces click together in your mind. Joel has another daughter.

Your smile vanishes and you slowly turn around between his legs to face him. Looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, you utter, “What?”

“Her name was Sarah,” he confesses, softly.

Was.

Your throat dries at his use of past tense.

Because you know exactly what that means.

Opening your mouth to speak, words fail you and you close it. You suddenly remember the way he would tap dance around certain details of his first life in Texas. Whenever he would speak about his life before the outbreak, he would be cautious, careful to watch himself and his words. You’d known Joel had been keeping something from you, something he wasn’t ready to disclose to you for one reason or another—but never would you have guessed that him having a daughter would be the secret he had been hiding.

By now, you’ve turned your body around and you kneel in front of him, sitting back onto your heels. Not wanting to push him too hard or too fast, you clasp your hands together in your lap and wait silently—patiently—for him to continue when he’s ready.

“Sarah’s favorite color was purple. She’d wear it all the time. Her backpack, her school supplies, they all had to be purple or she wouldn’t use them. When she was nine years old, she begged me to paint the walls of her bedroom purple. One day, I took her to Home Depot after school to look at all the different shades.” He laughs, musing, “Didn’t know there could be so goddamn many of them. Anyhow, I told her I’d think ‘bout it. I went back to the store the next day while she was at school, bought a couple cans of the lavender shade I knew she’d like the best and by the time she got home, I had it all painted for her,” he explains, a sadness glazing over the fondness of the memory. “She loved purple. It was the color of the t-shirt she was wearin’ the last time we were together on the night of the outbreak.”

Your heart sinks. “Joel, you don’t have to tell me—”

“S’alright, peach. I wanna tell you ‘bout her,” Joel assures you, reaching out for your hand and taking it in his own. “I trust you, baby. Trust you more than enough to tell you ‘bout Sarah.”

Nodding, you lace his fingers together with your own.

“I was never married,” he starts to say, knowing whether or not he’d also had a wife before the world ended would be a question on your mind—that’s if it wasn’t already. “I was never with Sarah’s mom. I met her in high school and we’d been friends up through senior year of college. We started to date then, but after a year, we realized we weren’t a good fit together. We broke up and a couple months later, we found out she was pregnant with Sarah. Her mom and me, well we both made an agreement to co-parent her as best as we could. Just a few months shy of our daughter’s first birthday, she realized she couldn’t handle raisin’ a child at our age. I tried real hard to convince her to stick around and keep tryin’ but I couldn’t get her to stay. She bailed out on me, but the worst part of it was that she bailed out on Sarah.”

He stops for a moment and you give his hand a gentle, but firm, encouraging squeeze.

“As if bein’ a father to a baby girl didn’t scare the shit of me, being a single father made it all feel so much scarier, y’know? I was young, in my early twenties. I was always workin’ so damn much, tryin’ to build my construction business with Tommy. Now I had this tiny little person to take care of, and I honestly didn’t know how the fuck I was gonna do it.” Joel pauses, his sixth sense detecting that your knees have started hurting from the position you’re in. He closes his legs together and pulls you to sit on his lap. “It wasn’t easy, and I probably made a lot more mistakes than I’d like to admit. But somehow, I made it work and it turned out alright. Sarah was my best friend in the whole entire world. Hell, I loved her more than fuckin’ life itself. She could be a handful, but she was perfect in every single way. She was my sweet little butterfly, my ray of sunshine on even the darkest of days.”

Swallowing harshly, you ask, “What happened to her, Joel?”

Joel sighs, resting a hand on your bare thigh. His fingers skim the scalloped hem of your floral shorts. “It was the first night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out of Austin. Me, Sarah, and Tommy. We didn’t know where the hell we were gonna go or what we were gonna do, but we just needed to get far away from the city. We got separated at one point when our pickup truck got into an awful wreck. I had Sarah in my arms ‘cause she couldn’t walk. She’d broken her ankle in the crash. Tommy told me to get her to the river where she’d be safer, said he’d find his way over there to meet us.”

Your heart begins to pound. Part of you almost doesn’t want to hear how his story is going to end—because in a way, you already know how it’s going to end. But if Joel is telling you about Sarah, it’s for a reason. He’s opening up to you, the way you’ve opened up to him. He’s sharing his heartbreaking loss because he trusts you—and Joel Miller doesn’t trust anyone that’s not his family.

Draping an arm around his shoulders, your fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck as you anxiously wait for him to recount the event that follows next, the event that will surely shatter your heart into pieces.

“The streets were crawlin’ with infected. One caught us in its sights and chased after us. Tried to dodge it through a buildin’ but it followed us, runnin’ us out into a field just a mile from the river. I didn’t think we were gonna make it—then, a soldier came outta nowhere and shot it dead. It felt like some kinda fuckin’ miracle. I thought we were lucky. I thought we were gonna get some help.” His voice grows hoarse, thickening with emotions he’s not too sure he can hold back this time. “I couldn’t have been more wrong. He was given the order by his command to kill us both, even though we weren’t sick. I tried tellin’ him over and over we weren’t infected, but it didn’t matter. He shot at us. He grazed me in my side, but Sarah—he got her. Got her multiple times. I was foolish enough to think it hadn’t been fatal. I tried gettin’ her up, begged Tommy to help me—but it was useless. Sarah died in my arms. Took her very last breath in some field outside of Austin.”

“God,” you whisper shakily, a sharp, painful ache shooting through your chest at the thought of him cradling his daughter’s lifeless body in his arms, her purple shirt soaked in crimson. “Joel, I don’t—I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry.” Willing yourself to keep it together for his sake, you hold the back of his neck in your hand, fingers coaxing him to look up and meet your gaze.

“After that, I just didn’t see any point in carryin’ on anymore. I’d lost the most important thing in the fuckin’ world to me. I couldn’t see in the darkness now that my little ray of sunshine was gone. So, a couple nights later, I picked up my gun and tried to end my own life,” he confesses. Even though it’s been over twenty years, traces of shame still linger behind. “Put the barrel of a pistol to my temple. Told myself it was what I wanted to do and I pulled the trigger.”

Without thinking, you reach towards the scar on his right temple with your opposite hand, the one you’d noticed for the first time before he had kissed you in Ranger’s stall. You lightly brush your fingertips over the jagged, raised patch of skin. You’d wanted to ask him about it on several different occasions, but never had the courage to actually do it. Now that you know he’d gotten it from his own hand, it just makes the entire thing all that much more heart wrenching.

“M’sure you’ve guessed it by now, but I missed. I flinched and I missed. For twenty fuckin’ years, all I could do was wish I hadn’t missed. Spent a long time hatin’ myself for missin’ what should’ve been the easiest goddamn shot of my entire life. Then, Ellie came along.” Joel moves his hand, gingerly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “And not long after her, I met you, sweet girl. The two of you came at me outta nowhere.” He can’t help but chuckle, remembering his first encounter with Ellie, the way she had flown at him with her switchblade clutched in hand only to end up thrown against the wall. “You both came outta left fuckin’ field and brought out sides of me I thought had been dead and buried for years now. You and her, you mean more to me than I can fuckin’ explain. You’re the most important things in the world to me now.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his declaration. It’s not like you didn’t know Joel cared about you. Of course you know that. But the extent to which he did had been something of a mystery, at least up until this very moment.

“I didn’t know I could feel this way ‘bout anyone again,” Joel admits. He slides his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “Openin’ up my heart to Ellie, that was one thing. But openin’ it up to you? That’s been somethin’ else, peach. I don’t think you even realize the hold you’ve got over me and my heart. What really fuckin’ gets me is that you don’t even gotta try. All you gotta do is look at me with those eyes and give me that pretty smile of yours, and I’m fuckin’ done for. You’ve got me wrapped all the way around your little finger and then back again, baby. Y’need to know that I’d do just ‘bout fuckin’ anythin’ for you. You understand that?”

You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“Joel,” you stammer his name, your nerve endings feeling like they’ve been lit on fire. “You really need to stop talking like that.”

“Why’s that?”

You don’t even think—you just blurt the words out before you can stop them.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The tables turn and it’s now Joel who is at a complete loss for words.

Embarrassed by your own admission, you begin to ramble nervously. “Look, I know it’s ridiculous. We haven’t known each other long, but I can’t help it. And maybe it’s for the best if you know where I stand and how I feel. You still have time to back out of this—”

Still holding your chin, Joel carefully brings your face toward his, silencing you by slotting his lips to yours. He moves to cup the side of your face in his palm, forgetting about any kind of softness as he greedily licks into your mouth. He’s kissed you plenty of times before and you thought you knew all of his kisses well enough by now, but you’d been wrong. This one is different from all the rest. His lips move against yours in a possessive manner, but not the kind of possessive you’re used with Luke. No, with Joel, it isn’t a possessive stemming from control and abuse, rather, it’s out of pure need, want, and desire. Even as his mouth devours yours, there’s still a sweet, loving tenderness to it.

“Joel,” you whimper against him. “I—”

You falter, unable to say those three words. There’s something holding you back—maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that once you say them, you can’t take them back. Not that you would. But it’s a big step, and you’re not quite ready to say it, even if it is how you feel.

And he feels the same.

He deepens the embrace.

I love you.

Joel might not be ready to say it either, but he hopes the way he’s holding you and swelling your lips with his puts your mind at ease and reassures you that you’re not the only one who’s falling.

You shift yourself in his lap, moving to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs as your mouths remain fused to one another. He reaches and grabs for every single part of you that he can, running his hands all over you from your shoulders down to your hips, dragging lower until they’re unabashedly cupping the delicious curves of your ass. You whimper in his mouth again and the moment your lips part, his tongue takes advantage, darting inside to start the heated, unhinged dance with your own.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers curling around tight around fistfuls of his t-shirt in an attempt, and a very desperate one at that, to keep yourself planted on the ground. You hold on trying to keep yourself tethered to planet earth, but with the way his searing hot mouth moves with yours in perfect unison, it’s impossible. You’re free falling without a safety net, and you don’t even care.

Seating yourself completely on his lap, you feel the bulge of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans and the wetness pools between your thighs.

Letting go of his shirt, you reach around him and bury your fingers in his curls, lightly tipping his head back as your tongue explores his mouth like it’s the first time all over again. Joel tastes like the sweet fruit you’d shared, a strange mix when combined with the mint from his toothpaste. But there’s something else he tastes like and you’ve tasted it several times before, however even after all this time, you still can’t figure out what it could be. It tastes like Joel. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. It just tastes like Joel and it’s addicting and you want it on your lips for the rest of your life.

After a minute, you and Joel finally force yourselves apart, your lungs and his begging for oxygen.

“Joel,” you choke his name between heavy pants for air.

“Baby.” He’s about as breathless as you are, possibly even more. “Baby, please. I’ve gotta have you,” he pleads, hands now splayed on the small of your back. “Please. I fuckin’ need you. Or else m’gonna lose my goddamn fuckin’ mind.”

“Barn,” you rasp out, releasing your grip on his hair.

Confused, Joel’s eyebrows knit together. “Barn?”

“Barn,” you repeat as you climb off of him.

You’re unsteady—incredibly unsteady. Knees wobbling, legs trembling and feeling like they’re seconds away from giving out underneath you. But you hold a hand out to Joel, exhaling a tiny, labored grunt as you help him up off the ground. Grabbing his blanket, you give it a shake before taking his hand in yours and leading him around to the front of the barn. Dropping his hand, you use both of yours to slide one of the double doors open an inch or two and take a peek inside to make sure the coast is clear. You then slide the door open a bit further, just wide enough for you and Joel to slip inside.

“Wait a minute,” he chuckles as he watches you slide the door closed. “How’d y’know it would be unlocked?”

“I didn’t know it would be unlocked. I was just hoping we’d get lucky,” you admit, beckoning him for him to follow you. “Come on.”

Through various cracks and gaps and open windows, enough moonlight filters into the barn, shining a decent amount of light into the structure—enough so that it’s not pitch black and you two are left stumbling around in complete darkness.

Joel glances around. The last time he’d been inside the barn was back in June for the summer party. He remembered it having been cleaned and cleared out for the event and now, two months later, it’s packed to the rafters with countless bales of hay. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised. But as he walks, piles of loose dried grass and herbs crunch underneath his boots and he remarks, “There’s fuckin’ hay everywhere, darlin’.”

“Um, yeah. What else do you keep in a barn?” you jeer lightly, earning yourself a small scoff from him. “Hey, at least they don’t keep sheep and other livestock in here, Joel. Besides, beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Joel snorts, masking his laughter at the thought of walking into a barn full of animals instead of an absurd amount of hay. “Yeah, guess that’s fair enough,” he concedes. “Might kill the mood if that were the case.”

You lead him over towards one of the far corners of the barn, your eyes falling to a large, almost bed sized pile of loose hay. Draping the blanket over it, you stand upright and then freeze, your body flooding with nerves once you realize what’s inevitably about to happen between you and Joel.

You hadn’t done anything with him since the night he’d pleasured you out on his front porch. Of course you wanted more, so much more, but that doesn’t make you any less nervous. You’re so much younger, hardly have any experience—you’ve only ever been with one man, and even then, it hardly counts. It’s been such a long time since you’d found sex something you wanted, something you enjoyed. Whenever Luke touches you, it makes your skin crawl, but when Joel Miller touches you?

It sets you ablaze, leaves you needing more of it. Of him.

Part of you wonders if your touch makes him feel the same. What if it doesn’t?

His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you exhale the breath you’d been holding shakily.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Joel murmurs softly into your hair, sensing your pensiveness.

“I’m just really nervous,” you blurt out.

“S’okay,” he says, quietly. “M’kinda nervous too.”

You’re slightly taken aback. “Really? What are you nervous about?”

Joel rests his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve both crossed a lot of lines already, peach. But this one? S’gonna be the one we can’t come back from,” he tells you. “Might be what seals the deal between us, y’know?”

Slowly, you turn around to face him. “Yeah, I know,” you respond, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. “And I know I should care, but I don’t. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“S’wrong,” he agrees with a tight nod. “But I don’t care either, sweet girl.”

Before you can utter another word about it, Joel crashes his mouth onto yours. He snakes one of his arms around you and lifts the other, cupping the back of your neck as he ravages you with his lips and tongue, kissing you with such urgency, such desperation that it melts you into a whimpering mess in his arms. Your mind is hopelessly lost in a thick, cloudy haze—all you can focus on is breathing him into your lungs like he’s the air you need to stay alive. His hands fall down to the hem of your white camisole and his mouth abandons yours to pull it over your head. He discards it, tossing it over his shoulder somewhere behind him. He then pushes your shorts and underwear down your legs and you kick them off along with your shoes. You’re now standing before him completely naked.

Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you take the hem of his t-shirt and clumsily tug it over his head, eliciting a laugh from him. You throw it somewhere over his shoulder to join yours and your hands eagerly meet his warm, bare chest for the first time. Biting down on your bottom lip, your trembling fingertips brush over several bumps and rough, raised patches of skin that you know have to be his scars. He has so many, and all you want to do is kiss each and every single one of them, but Joel has other ideas. He pulls you into his arms, flush against his chest, and he holds you tightly.

More often than not, Joel feels as if you’re not real—worries that you’re just a perfect, flawless figment of his own imagination. He doesn’t know whether or not you’ve caught onto what he’s been doing, but he steals moments like these whenever he can, moments where he stands there and takes you into his arms and holds you without saying a word.

It’s his own way of reminding himself that not only are you real, but you’re real and you’re his. Joel doesn’t care about the fucking ring on your finger. He doesn’t care that you’re promised to another man. He doesn’t care that he can only hold you in secret, that he can’t walk next you down the streets of Jackson in broad daylight and hold your hand while doing so. He doesn’t get to share a roof or a bed with you and he doesn’t get to join you for dinner at the table every night—maybe this isn’t how he preferred things to be, but he just doesn’t care.

It doesn’t matter to him.

Nothing matters to him except for one thing.

Your heart belongs to him. It bleeds with his name.

You’re his. You’re all fucking his, and only his, in all the ways that truly matter.

And he is yours.

Joel chokes out a strained groan as you press your plush lips softly against his neck, your tongue swiping across his pulse point. You firmly suckle his flesh, hard enough to break the tiny blood vessels underneath his skin and once you’ve left your mark, you trail your lips down his neck, eliciting another strangled noise from him. You sweep them over his collarbone, then down the length of his chest, showing each scar you come across with the affection it deserves. Your teeth nip and scrape at the softness of his belly and you quickly discover that it’s one of your favorite parts of him. Lowering yourself to your knees, your nose skims over the trail of dark, coarse hair below his navel and your fingers suggestively skim the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes widen. “You ain’t gotta do that—”

“I already told you, Joel. I want to,” you assure him, your voice low, sexy, filled with a lust for him and only for him. You make yourself comfortable, a challenging feat since you’d overshot the blanket and are now kneeling directly on the itchy, dried grass. It doesn’t matter, though—you’re more than willing to deal with discomfort for him. You place a hand on his hip and peer up at him. Your eyes meet his in the milky white moonlight. “You made me feel good. Please, just let me do the same for you?”

The nod he gives you is so subtle, so quick, that you almost don’t catch it.

He’d grown tense beneath your touch.

You can’t help but laugh softly—not at him, but at the fact that he doesn’t realize that pleasuring him isn’t a want for you, it’s a need.

Gently, you pat his hip. “Relax, honey,” you encourage him, surprised at how the pet name rolls off your tongue with such natural ease.

Your hands reach for the button of his jeans and you swiftly undo it, then tug at his zipper. You start pulling the denim down his legs. Joel helps you, kicking off his worn, black leather boots before stepping out of his jeans, kicking the article of clothing off to the side. Heart racing in anticipation, you slide his dark boxer briefs down his legs, but stop short, breath hitching the second you feast your eyes on his cock. You’ve felt him through his clothes before, knew he was well endowed, but you’re still shocked to see just how big he really is. The mere thought of his hard, thick length filling you up and stretching your cunt makes your entire body ache with need. You can’t be certain how he’ll fit, but truth be told, he could tear you in half and you would thank him for it.

Joel draws in a quick, sharp breath when he feels your small hand wrap around his base. Just as fast as he’d breathed it in, it’s knocked back out of his lungs when your other hand joins in and you run your fingertips along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He twitches in your hands—you’ve hardly touched him, haven’t even put your mouth on him, and he’s already teetering on the edge.

“Christ, baby. You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, I hope y’know that,” Joel croaks, tilting his head back to look up at the rafters as he silently wills himself not to explode too soon. His hips involuntarily jerk forward as you lick his tip, collecting his leaking precome on your tongue before wrapping your soft lips around it. Another loud, ragged groan tears from the back of his throat as you take him in slowly, inch by inch, further into your warm, wet mouth. Your own moaning around him causes a vibrating sensation, making it harder for Joel to keep himself from spilling into your mouth.

“Fuck, peach,” he curses, feeling the head of his cock nudge the back of your throat. He’s more than a mouthful for you, but you accept the challenge with eagerness and take him in further, gagging around him as drool dribbles down the sides of your chin. You, the same woman who just moments ago had said she was nervous about being intimate with him—whoever that woman had been, she was long fucking gone.

Joel’s eyes flit down and he sinks his teeth hard into his lower lip. He can see your silhouette as you work him with that pretty little mouth of yours. One glance is all he can handle before he’s squeezing his eyes shut, the pressure building in his lower abdomen and already dangerously close to reaching its peak. If Joel so much as looks at you again, he’ll come down your throat, and that’s not where he’s planning on finishing tonight.

You bob your head back and forth on his cock, your eyes watering each time he slips past the back of your throat—your cheeks hollow as you suck him greedily, and you alternate between that and stroking his long, thick shaft, your tongue swirling around his head.

Without opening his eyes, Joel reaches down with his hand and cradles the back of your head in his palm. The sounds that fill the barn are nothing short of obscene. His grunts and groans mixed together with the sounds of the moans you’d release in between your wet and sloppy slurping. He forces his eyes open and bravely takes another look at you, his heart slamming painfully against his sternum as you move your head faster, chasing his release as if you’re chasing your own.

“Fuck, baby—wait, stop. Need you to stop.” Joel’s hand leaves the back of your head and he cups your jaw, gently, but firmly, forcing you to release his cock from your mouth with an audible pop. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, not if you keep on like that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” you ask, smirking up at him as you wipe the mixture of his precome and your saliva away from your chin with the back of your hand.

Joel leans over and takes your arms, effortlessly yanking you up to your feet. His hand dives between your thighs to get a feel—to find whether you’re ready to take him or not. He slips two fingers between your soaked folds without so much as a warning, causing you to gasp out and grip his biceps, your fingernails digging into the firm muscle. Joel withdraws his hand from your cunt, admiring the way his digits come back coated with your slick. He looks at you, his eyes locking with yours as he lifts his hand to his mouth and slowly licks his fingers clean.

That alone nearly makes you come undone, almost makes you melt into a pathetic, whimpering mess at his feet.

“Joel,” you say his name pleadingly. “Please.”

Sliding his fingers out of his mouth, he steps forwards and curls them around your wrist. “What is it, my sweet little peach? Hm? What do you want?”

“You. I want you,” you answer. You’re quick to correct yourself. “No, I need you. I fucking need you—I need you more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life, Joel.”

Leaning down, Joel skims the tip of his nose against your cheek before bringing it down along your jawline. “Where, darlin’?” he whispers huskily, sending a shiver up your spine. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Your mouth falls open slightly unable to say it. You don’t know why you’re suddenly shy, flustered as if you just hadn’t been down on your knees gagging around his cock.

“Tell me, peach,” he coaxes you gently with another low whisper. “Tell me where you need me. Tell me where you need my cock, sweetheart. Need to hear you say it.”

“Inside me.” Blazing heat floods your face. “I need you inside of me—I need you to fuck me. Please, Joel.”

“So polite ‘bout it, too,” he remarks. “What a good girl.”

Though he says it in a teasing manner, his praise nearly makes you collapse.

“You like that,” he realizes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Yeah, baby? Y’like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Fuck, I—yes, I do,” you confess.

“C’mere.” Joel wraps an arm around your waist, hand splayed over your back as he lowers you down onto the blanket. He follows suit. You both let out breathy laughs at the way your naked bodies sink down into the pile of hay. Propping himself up with his arm, Joel looks down at you, his smile fading as a serious expression crosses his features. He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, finger grazing the silkiness of your cheek. “Y’sure ‘bout this, peach? Ain’t too late to stop.”

Smiling softly, you lift a hand to the side of his face, your fingers stroking his graying beard. “I’ve never been so sure about anything, Joel,” you promise him. “If you could take a peek into my mind, you would see how bad I want this, how bad I need this—how bad I need you. I don’t want to stop.” And you don’t just mean the sex. You don’t any of this to stop—the secret, late night meetings, the stolen kisses, the illicit affair. “I’m sure about this. I’m sure about you, Joel.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Joel reaches down between your bodies, gripping his base, pumping his throbbing cock in his fist before lining himself up at your sopping entrance. Adrenaline courses through your veins—every nerve ending in your body is going up in flames. You spread your legs wider for him, hoping he’ll understand the nonverbal cue. He does. He begins to ease himself into your cunt and you hook a leg around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper. The barn fills with the sound of his grunt and your loud cry at the initial stretch. He sinks his cock further into you until he bottoms out and you cry out again, feeling a delicious burning sensation as he cradles his hips between your thighs.

“M’gonna need you to relax a little sweetheart,” he whispers gently, ceasing his movements to give your body a chance to adjust to him. Joel takes advantage of having you pinned underneath him with your head thrown back and his lips latch onto your neck, hungrily. He fervently kisses his way down the column of your throat, nips his way to your collarbone—but unlike you, he’s careful to do so without leaving any kind of mark behind. He would give anything to have the freedom to leave traces of his loving all over you. Maybe it’s the heat of the moment and the way he’s buried inside you to the hilt that brings out the primal in him, but Joel wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around Jackson covered in his love bites. He wants everyone to know he’s the one who’d left them behind, needs them to understand that you’re his. But that isn’t possible. Joel lifts his head from the hollow of your neck and nibbles lightly at your chin. “You alright, baby?”

Forcing your eyes open, you lift your head and bring yourself to look at him. At first, you feel discomfort, but after a minute, your body finally relaxes around him and it subsides. It’s replaced with the burning desire to feel more of him. The pretty glow coming in from outside the barn illuminates his face and you smile. “I’m better than alright. I’m perfect,” you assure him. You place a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heart thrum hard against your fingertips. “This is perfect.”

Joel kisses the tip of your nose. He slides out of you slowly, then right back into you in an experimental thrust that brings your body off the blanket, your back arching in sheer pleasure. It’s such a deliciously tight fit, and he almost can’t believe how fucking good it feels to be sheathed in your taut heat. He drops his head, taking your breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardened nipple as he bucks his hips once more. He’s being careful. Too careful.

“Joel—I need you to move,” you gasp. You drag a hand down his chest and over his soft stomach, letting your fingernails rake lightly over his flushed skin. It’s warm to the touch, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Joel, please. Fuck me.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to tell him twice.

Joel releases the pebbled flesh from his mouth with a loud, lewd pop. He pulls his cock out of your dribbling pussy, then slams back into you with such force that he places a hand on the crown of your head, keeping you in place underneath him on the blanket. You wrap your own leg around him, locking your ankles together, your heels digging into the firm curve of his ass. You lift your hips just as he rolls his own right into them. The new angle gives Joel the opportunity to fuck you even deeper and he hits the sensitive, spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hold onto him, moans you’ve never heard come out of your own mouth before ringing in your ears and in his. He starts picking up his pace.

“Baby.” He’s breathless and speaks between every snap of his hips. “Fuck, y’feel s’good—s’tight around me—”

“Don’t stop, Joel. God, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead him, your finger burying themselves in his hair. “Keep going, just like that—fuck, you feel so fucking good inside me—”

You bite down on your bottom lip, adoring how Joel squeezes his dark eyes shut each and every single time the head of his cock brushes that one particularly deep spot inside of you. Knowing that you and your body has this kind of an effect on him, it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve spent the last couple of years allowing a pathetic excuse of a man—if one could even call him that—pick on you, say things about your body, and make you feel like your inability to conceive a child made you defective. Worthless, even. And here’s a real man, one who makes you feel beautiful with the way he talks to you, the way he kisses you, touches you, and fucks you. You’re not perfect by any means, but Joel Miller makes you feel what your own husband doesn’t.

He makes you feel like you’re enough. More than enough.

The barn fills with a combination of moaning, panting, and the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin.

Glancing down at you, Joel shakes his head and warns, “Ain’t gonna last much longer, baby. M’so goddamn close.”

An unexpected wave of courage washes over you. Planting your hands firmly on his chest, you take him by complete surprise and slide out from underneath him. A small grunt escapes him as you push him onto his back. Amused, you can’t help but giggle at the shocked expression on his face as you guide him to lie down on the flannel blanket. Eager to see his reaction, you keep your eyes trained on his face as you straddle his lap. You grip the base of his cock in your hand and then slowly sink down onto him, your cunt greedily squeezing him as you slide down until you’re fully seated.

Joel’s jaw falls slack. It’s the most stunning sight he’s ever seen.

You, completely naked on top of him, your pouty lips plump and swollen from his kisses. Your smooth, supple skin glows in the moonlight shining through the open window behind you. All while every inch of Joel’s cock was buried deep inside of you, head nudging at your cervix. Eyes glimmering devilishly, the sexiest little smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Like what you see?”

He tries to speak, but he can’t.

You’ve rendered him speechless.

Grabbing his hands in yours, you guide them to your hips. His blood roars in his ears and his fingers dig into the pillowy soft flesh, holding on as you begin to rock them back and forth. You throw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulder. The friction of your clit against his pelvis heightens your pleasure. Joel had thought he would be the one to topple over the edge first, but he’d been wrong.

Eyes pinching shut, you start bouncing yourself on his cock, your desperation mounting. You feel the tension between your hips coiling back tightly, ready to snap forward.

“Fuck, Joel—I’m gonna—I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuckin’ come for me, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers digging even harder into your hips. One of his hands abandons your side and he reaches up and gently takes your slackened jaw in the palm of his hand. He coaxes you to look down at him. “Need you to be a good girl and look at me, peach,” he instructs you, slipping his thumb between your parted lips. “Need to see that pretty face of yours when you come all over my cock, sweetheart.”

“Oh fuck—fuckfuckfuck!”

Crying out, you unravel and fall apart all over him, the ecstasy blurring the edges of your vision.

It doesn’t take Joel much longer to follow. He lets out a low, guttural growl, choking out a string of profanities as he slams you down onto his lap and holds you in place, spurts of warm come coating your velvet walls. Your pussy squeezes him, draining him of every last drop.

You collapse forward onto him in a sweaty, whimpering mess and he wraps his arms around you. With him still inside you, you both lay there and try to catch your breaths as the high slowly but surely begins to wear off.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls out of you and he shifts your bodies, moving you so you’re now laying beside him. Tucking you against his side, he slides his arm around your shoulders and pulls you even closer. His other hand finds one of yours and he takes it, bringing them both to rest on his chest.

“You alright?” he asks you, lacing his fingers together with yours.

“I’m great,” you answer him tiredly, prompting him to chuckle. “What about you?”

Joel strokes at your hair. “Never been better, sweet girl.”

You groan. “Joel, don’t do that,” you mumble into his shoulder. “You’re going to put me right to sleep.”

He laughs again. “We’ve still got a bit more time, y’know. If you’re tired, you can take a quick nap. I can wake you up in ‘bout an hour when it’s time to head home.”

“No, that’s okay,” you decline the offer, worried he would accidentally fall asleep too. “I really wish we could sleep together—I mean, actually sleep together. In an actual bed. Not having to worry about anything. Just like normal couples do.”

“Well, we ain’t exactly a normal couple, darlin’.”

“No, we’re definitely not,” you murmur. You don’t even realize how sad you’d sounded until you feel Joel give your shoulders a comforting squeeze.

Neither of you say anything else about it as you spend the next hour laying there, tangled up in each other’s embrace, waiting until it was time to go your separate ways.

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cochineal-leviat · 28 days ago

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Valentine Special 2025 ships

Heyo, it's already midnight where I am, so Valentine's Day has passed, but I still wanted to celebrate it. Valentine's Day is weird for me because I am Aro&Ace, so I never really get to appreciate it. Every year, it just comes and passes, and I feel nothing, even though I do like the aesthetic.

But this week, I had the brilliant idea that even though I can't celebrate it conventionally, I can still do something for all the pairings and ships I have come to love over the years. So, I drew eleven ships that had helped me during my most challenging moments, from when I was a child to the present. They are ordered in no particular order but rather what I got on paper in my sketchbook.

Idk. Maybe this way me my fellow Aromantics shippers can still enjoy the holiday.

Which ship do you like best? I would love to know~ (even if it is simply from the technical perspective)

From the first panel to the last, we have:

Page 1

Kirfluff (is extra special to me as a fic I wrote for the pairing, including many other franchise characters, which led me to keep writing for fun and posting it online. Without I would not have the boost of confidence that I do now about my writing)

Metadede (Who doesn't love a good ship with a warrior's bond? They're hilarious)

Isafrin (my most recent ship. They make me soft and cry at the same time. Like this pairing adds a lot ISAT's story and manages to also be very entertaining and heartfelt)

Sonadow (I got into the ship before I was even into Sonic. There was even a long-ass fic I found back when I still read on Fanfiction.net that I reread every year because I found it so funny. I definitely enjoy the modern Sonadow writing more than a decade ago)

Snufmin (perfect balance between yearning and the needing space and the freedom to adventure. I want to read more of this ship)

Page 2

Ravioli(nk) (The name alone already makes it worth it. I also have an unholy amount of fics saved from this ship. They are the literal roommates meme)

Vidow (a classic. I enjoyed this one even before I got into Zelda. Like I was reading Four Swords without having any clue what the lore was or what the fuck was going on.)

Reguri (This was named Namelessshipping and Orginalshipping back in the day. Too tired to do research rn. But I think the difference lies in the manga and game versions. I prefer the game versions, personally)

Purpleshipping {Kieran x mc) (A little backstory: this is just the mc from Scarlet and Violet that I made an NB version for, which became their own person after writing a fic. Here, they are exchanging an Applin with Kieran. For those who know the custom, you know, you know. A friend of mine named this ship)

Shadowpeach (the most divorced couple I have ever come across. I remember back when this was considered a crack ship. Ah, good times. The character depictions were very different back then, too. I depicted them in their friend's era, but still. Btw Macaque is laughing at Sun Wukong's antics but I think it accidentally looks like he is laughing at Sun Wukong rather than with him. Oh well, it wouldn't be too out of character for seasons 1-3 Mac)

Marink (not a ship I read about a lot, but it hurt me so much when I played Link's Awakening for the first time. Everytime I think of Marin I feel sad)

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reginaphalangelobster125 · 2 months ago

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It Had To Be You

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Steve wished you were his but he knew you never could be.

Warnings: Angst, bits of fluff smothered in angst.

Of course it had to be you, wonderful you.

It had to be you the same woman who his best friend was in love with.

He couldn't have fallen for anyone else, he had to fall for you.

Steve was kicking himself for falling for you, you were clearly in love with Bucky.

I mean it was so obvious, you would always look for him whenever you walked into a room, always wanting to be around to Bucky.

You had barely spoken two words to Steve this week but you were all over Bucky. Talking to Bucky, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories and not Steve's.

Steve felt like such an idiot whenever you entered a room and his turned into a flustering, blushing mess.

He felt like an idiot everytime you looked at him for just a second longer than usual, thinking, praying that you might return his feelings even in the slightest. But he couldn't think that, he couldn't, because it was never going to happen.

Steve looked down at his sketchbook, filled with drawings of you and let out a sigh full of longing.

It was ridiculous, he couldn't even be in the same room as you, especially if Bucky was there.

Seeing you smile at Bucky and touch his arm, not being afraid, not even concerned just being happy being in Bucky's presence. Bucky's. Not Steve's.

Then when Bucky told Steve how he felt one night Steve felt like his heart had been stomped on because he knew all Bucky had to do was say those three little words and you'd be his. Not Steve's.

He could see it now all Bucky need do is ask you to be his and you would be. Steve could picture it, one night Bucky would say 'I love you' and you would return his love tenfold.

Steve could see your whole lives play out, first you'd date for a while maybe take it a bit slow at first but then you'd realise you were each other's person, one true love and you'd move in together. Not too long after you'd decide it was time to get your own home, out of the tower, and you find a nice little house in the suburbs with a yard and a porch. You might start off with a dog, something big and cuddly like that dog from Beethoven. He'd run around the yard with the two of you chasing sticks and frisbees, getting belly rubs and lots of pats. One night maybe your second anniversary, Bucky would spring for the best table at the best restaurant. You'd get something like lobster ravioli and do the cutesy little couple things like Lady and the Tramp-ing the spaghetti and linking arms to drink wine, probably dribbling a little and giggling. When you'd gone to the bathroom, Bucky would order champagne and place the ring in the bottom of your glass, a bit cliche but it'd work, you look down into your glass and look back at Bucky to see if this was a joke. But it wasn't. You'd squeal and fish the ring out the glass with a fork. It would be nice but not too flashy, he wanted to put the money towards your next adventure, preferably kids. You'd love the ring if it were plastic, but it really meant a lot to you seeing your favourite stone in the centre, you couldn't even remember when you'd mentioned it but you must've.

Next would come the wedding where Steve would of course be the best man, because he had to put yours and Bucky's happiness above all, including his own feelings. The music would play and you'd walk down the isle in a beautiful white gown, not huge and poofy and overstated but something elegant and almost regal to match your own beauty. You and Bucky would look into each other's eyes and see your soulmates and Steve would be off to the side looking at you seeing the same but knowing it couldn't be. You'd both recite your vows, so beautiful they'd make anyone cry, and then it would be time for objections. Every part of Steve wanted to say something, anything, to say that he's loved you for years but every part of him forbid it. He watched his best friend kiss you and he watched you reciprocate the kiss with so much love it hurt. He watched the two of you walk out of that church and off to your honeymoon where you'd no undoubtedly conceive your first child.

A few weeks after you'd get back you'd find out you were pregnant, when you told your new husband the news he'd cry out a single tear, so happy to finally be living a normal life. The first person you two would tell was of course Steve. He'd put on his best fake smile and tried to make it through the pain for as long as he could, but the second you'd walk out the door he'd be in tears. It should have been his child you were carrying, not Bucky's. When the day would finally come Bucky would introduce Steve to his little godson, Steven Barnes. He'd hold the child in his arms and he'd feel evil. He'd feel evil for wishing it were his child with you. Then would come more, more little bundles of joy that would call Bucky 'dad' and Steve 'uncle'. And eventually those little bundles of joy would grow up, all successful, lawyers, doctors, humanitarians. All with their mother's heart, full of kindness and love. Steve would have to watch you and Bucky grow old together, sitting on that same porch surrounded by grandchildren and even a few great grandchildren running around full of life.

And what he saw was pretty spot on.

#marvel #mcu #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #captain america #the winter soldier

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Unparadiz’d

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, blowjob, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Unparadiz’d - brought from joy to miserie. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

This is the last of pajama party drabbles. Let me know if you want me to do anything else like this.

“Actually, you’re both wrong. Gladiators were more often highly-trained. In fact, many were soldiers, but they most certainly weren’t slaves,” you intone.

You can’t help a smile. After more than an hour of chatter over things you didn’t know or care about, the conversation finally sways in your direction. History. That’s your ish. The Roman Empire especially.

“And where did you get that?” Ransom scoffs.

Charles rubs your back encouragingly. He hates how you tend to fade into the background. He needs someone who can stand at his side, not behind him.

“Well, I studied history. Masters, um, but you know, I am always open to learning new things. So, perhaps you might have proof otherwise.”

Ransom scowls. He hasn’t offered much more than that for most of the night. You don’t take it personally. He isn’t much better with the table full of people he calls friends. As the newcomer, you’ll happily just let it slide off your back.

“I don’t care that much,” he snorts. “Whatever. Charles, what about that Corvette? Sounds like a broke down train pulling up.”

“It’s antique. A classic. You would know if you had any sense of taste.” Charles rebuffs smoothly. “Safia, you’ll have to recommend me your chef. Mine can’t make ravioli for shit.”

You smile prettily and keep your fingers pinched around the stem of your glass. Charles’ friends are the society type. Your own are few and far between and the most you did was go out for coffee or a movie. These people are intellectuals and you can’t help but feel like a pretender.

“Stealing from me again, eh, Charles,” Safia drawls. “Mm, I might. If you’re a good boy.”

Safia is gorgeous. Thick black brows, thicker hair, full lips. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or you’re just intimidated.

“So,” Kimora turns to you pointedly, “you studied history. How cute. What did you study exactly?”

“Hmph, Marie Antoinette and the like, I’m sure,” Ransom mutters.

“Um, ancient history, actually,” you speak up. “Egypt, Greece, and Roman. But I was able to explore a bit more in my undergrad.”

Ransom clucks and drains his glass of whiskey. Your eyes meet his stormy ones. You’re not sure if his irritation is meant for you or if it’s more a general disdain. Every time you speak only deepens his agitation. You might be better staying quiet. You can bear the lecture from Charles after, but the hatred in that man’s eyes pierces like a knife.

“Well, if you’re looking for any writers on the subject,” Charles suggests, “I give her a five-star review.”

“No one wants to read about dead people,” Ransom snips.

You sip from your glass and lower your gaze to the table. You’re embarrassed. There’s really no particular reason to be but the way he talks scalds you with shame. Everything you do is wrong in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Hugh, some of them are a lot more interesting than you,” Charles retorts.

“Fuck off,” Ransom snarls. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, my bad. At least Hugh doesn’t sound like it belongs on a dog,” Charles chuckles.

Ransom slams his hand down, rattling his plate and cutlery, “you’re such a fucking smart ass, Charlie.”

“Oh, behave,” Safia reprimands, “sit down.”

“Piss off, mommy dearest,” Ransom spins and stomps out. “Bunch of snobs.”

As he storms off, Charles laughs louder and Safia tuts and shakes her head at him. Bronson reaches over to take an untouched quiche from Ransom’s plate. “More for us.”

You stare after the angry man. Something must be wrong. It can’t just be the dinner. It’s been rather pleasant up to that point.

“Well, we’ve almost finished the bottle,” Charles reaches for the wine. “You’ve got a spare bed?”

“You know I do, Charles,” Safia affirms. “I had the guest rooms made up. I know you all too well.”

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t kept pace,” Kimora tosses back with a smirk. “Charles, save some for me.” She puts her glass out and you glance down at your own. You still haven’t even finished your first.

The night wears on as you once more get lost amidst the garble. You put a word in or two but someone else always talks a bit louder or you find yourself without much to say. Finally, the plates are cleared and you disburse to find a room to sleep in.

You didn’t expect to stay the night, but Charles seems to have anticipated it. He pulls a black nightie from his leather bag and fans it out on the bed. You stare at the dainty fabric.

“Oh, wonderful.”

You wonder why he didn’t mention the possibility. It hardly matters. Charles knows best.

You change into the night gown. It’s tight and a bit short. You fix the straps as they dig into your shoulders.

“I don’t understand, it’s your size,” he drawls and belches into his hand, “mm, those prawns aren’t settling.”

“Are you okay? Should I get you some water?” You offer.

He waves you off and grumbles as he stomps around the bed. You watch him go then slowly look down at the nightie. Your chest threatens to fall out of the bodice.

You sit and wait and listen. The tap runs then shuts off. Charles’ wretch follows and his vomit hits the water loudly. You cringe and get up. You go to the bathroom door and nudge it open, “Charles, can I--”

“Get the fuck out!” He barks and you obey.

You back up to the bed and sit. You won’t be able to sleep. He’s sick and you just want to make it better. Well, it’s good he gets it out. You probably wouldn’t want someone hovering over you in the same situation.

You wait for Charles. Twenty minutes before you get up and knock on the bathroom door. He doesn’t answer but as you try the handle, you find it locked. He’ll come out when he’s ready.

You keep the lamp on and move to the top of the bed. You fold the blanket back and recline, but don’t cover yourself. You turn onto your side and close your eyes.

As you keep your ears perked for Charles’, you slowly drift down. After the long night and stress of meeting new people, you’re exhausted. You cross your arms and sink into the mattress. Reality is vague on the other side of your eyelids as sleep creeps up your body.

You lurch away as a door clicks. You roll onto your back and look toward the bathroom. The door is still closed. You blink as a shadow emerges from behind the other. The door to the hallway.

You lay in disbelief, paralysed in surprise. It’s Ransom. He wears only a pair of silk boxers. He must have gone into the wrong room.

“Um, hi?” You sit up, “I think--”

He puts his fingers to his lips and you snap your mouth shut. Confused. Maybe he needs to talk to Charles.

“Charles is just--”

He wiggles his finger then points it as you. He comes up to the foot of the bed. He tilts his head as his eyes scour over your body. He smirks.

“You know about gladiators, huh? Know everything, don’t you?” He hisses.

“Erm, no, I... no,” you gulp. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you had to say something,” he snorts.

“No, I was only... talking,” you tense and bend your legs up protectively. “I’m just about to go to sleep. I can let Charles know--”

“You can shut the fuck up,” he puts his knee on the bed and reaches for you. He snakes your ankle and pulls your leg straight. You squeal as he hauls you down the bed. “Make another noise and I’ll go find Charles and bash his head into the fucking toilet.”

“Please,” you wisp.

“I fucking mean it,” he wrestles your legs down as you try to kick. He crawls over your body to straddle you. You claw at his forearms and wriggle helplessly. “You think you fucking know it all, well, I’m about to teach you the most important fucking lesson.”

He closes his hands around your throat and you cough. His thumb presses down sharply and you whimper. He shakes you until you’re quiet. Your eyes wet and you try to bat away the fuzzy sheen.

“You don’t fuck around with me,” he growls as he glares down at you. “I don’t care if you’re fucking that cockwad, you speak to me with respect.”

You wheeze and slap your hand on the bed. You didn’t mean to. You were just trying to fit in. Why is he so mad?

“So let’s start easy. Don’t make a fucking sound, do you got me?”

You nod frantically against his grip as your head pulses from the lack of air. He grins and slowly releases you. He brushes his hands along your shoulders and yanks down the straps of your dress. Your tits pop out and you close your eyes in shame.

“Look at these things,” he gropes your chest greedily. “Guess that makes up for that mouth.” You sniffle and he pinches your nipples meanly, “look at me, you bitch.”

Your eyes snap open and round, tears bobbling along the brims. He snickers and flicks his finger up your throat. He pokes at your mouth and toys with your lower lip.

“I know exactly how to train that mouth of yours. Surprised Charlie hasn’t already,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, forcing deep until his knuckles press against your teeth and you gag.

He rips his hand away and raises himself on his knees. You squeak as he rolls down his boxers and springs free. His dick bobs as he climbs over you and you shake your head and snivel.

He grabs his dick and your head. He wrenches you up by your hair, straining your neck as he presses his tip to your lips. You clamp your mouth shut and whimper.

“Open the fuck up or I’ll break your teeth. Don’t think I’m fucking lying. I’m here, aren’t I?”

You tremble and give in. Your eyes flow over and blur with the wash of tears. It’s not just the violation, it’s that Charles is right on the other side of that wall. And you’re just letting this happen.

Ransom rams into your mouth. He shows no mercy as he thrusts down and invades your throat. His hand fists in your hair as his other trails back to your throat. He rubs there as he pushes down to his limit. As he thrusts, he feels himself from the outside, growling and grunting as you gurgle.

“Yeah, fuck,” He ruts harder and harder. Saliva pastes across your cheeks and your throat sears from his relentless fucking. “That mouth isn’t so fucking bad. Fuck. And those tits. You fucking play with those tits.”

He straddles just above your chest. You bring your hands up and cup your tits in your hands. You babble and squeeze, squirming as he pumps into your mouth.

“Like that. Huh? Listen to you. Sounds like he don’t fuck you good enough. He doesn’t punish this mouth how it should be,” he snarls and puffs as you feel the tension cord through him, “oh, yeah... yeah... yeah...”

His breath rattles and he quakes. He yanks your head up so your mouth is right against his pelvis. He rocks slightly, suffocating you, and suddenly, twitches. You feel him explode in your throat. His cums flood you, rising into your mouth and coming out your nose as you choke and hack.

You quake and cough as he pulls out of you, inch by inch. Your body lurches as you barely hold back a swell of nausea. He raises himself over you, his dick softening slowly as it shines with spit and semen. He groans and cradles his balls.

“Actually, you aren't entirely useless.” He taunts.

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #drabble #knives out #sleepover #pajama party

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iglowindark · 2 months ago

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@sideguitars and @makicarn you may regret engaging me about my 2025 Pasta Shape Rubric of Awesome (TM). 😜

i was getting quite annoyed with the New Year's Resolution questions from friends and fam - like, i consistently fail to overhaul my life during the other 11 months of the year, why would January be a magical success month? but i was also bumming everyone out during Resolution Reveals so i decided to pick something that would be fun for me and mildly upsetting for my elders!

the initial format was to "try every pasta shape in 2025". but. there are more than 400 pasta shapes. do you know how often i would have to eat pasta to accomplish this? i mean, i had to use a calculator because i forgot a year had 365 days, but it's MORE THAN ONCE PER DAY. i love pasta, but i also love other food, and i need to leave room in my life for every other cuisine.

so then i settled on "52 pasta shapes in 2025" - but glowy! (you might say) how will you decide which 52 pasta shapes to eat??? out of more than 400???

the answer is, of course: arbitrarily! but with a spreadsheet twist, because my first love in life is hot sauce, and my second love in life is a spreadsheet - no, i lied, i forgot about ms underfoot 😸, ok, she's #1, then hot sauce, then spreadsheets, then probably my family i guess.

ok, so please understand, i literally spent 7 hours and 40ish minutes over the past week assembling, editing, auditing, and admiring this spreadsheet. i started with trusty wikipedia, which helpfully broke down pasta shapes into groups like "long/medium" and "short cut" and "soup". it also had a group for "filled", but maki, sorry to say, this group i eliminated wholesale. there was just so much variation in what they might be filled WITH, and i needed some sort of control element. i didn't think it would be fair to compare cheese ravioli with 3-cheese tortellini? the cheeses are not equal! 🧀🧀🧀

so THEN: i did my own sub-grouping. (actually, first i split long and medium into their own groups, because, duh, they're different) long-flat and long-rolled, for example. i also started combining shapes that were really similar. like linguini and tagliatelle are kinda just the same noodle with slightly different widths/shapes/ingredients? (please, nonnas of the world, do not come for me in the comments, this was SO HARD). this part involved a lot of googling. my ad content for the next 4 months is gonna be all pasta related. through many gruelling rounds of re-googling to remind myself what shape was what, and some painful, tearful cuts (lasagne noodles are for lasagne, not for unserious noodle frippery) i finally finally finally culled my list down to 52 pasta shapes. 🍝 (editor's note: the single emoji does not represent this publication's favored pasta shape)

then the FUN part: how was i going to score these 52 pasta shapes? every google result went to pains to insist that different shapes were meant for specific sauces, and i'm sure that's true, but what's the fun in scoring something based on what it's meant to do? (also i didn't want to commit to having to make 52 different sauces/soups) so i came up with this scientifically rigorous scoring rubric:

BUTTERED/RED SAUCED (depending on my mood and whether or not i have red sauce available)

a pasta may earn up to one (1) point for being really good at holding butter/red sauce

a pasta cannot lose points in this category

PRIMAVERA (my version of primavera just means that i diced up whatever veggies i had handy and tossed them w/ the pasta)

a pasta may earn up to one (1) point if i can make one perfect bite that includes veggies/sauce/pasta

a pasta cannot lose points in this category

ALTERNATE USES

a pasta may earn one (1) point (max 5 points) for every non-food alternate use that i can dream up. for example, orecchiette could be used as hats for frogs! or to decorate the ramparts of a sand castle! 2 points for orecchiette!

a pasta may not lose points in this category

MISC/GENERAL (here's where i let my freak flag fly)

a pasta may earn one (1) point if i think the name is fun to say

a pasta may earn one (1) point if i think the shape is "cute"

a pasta may earn one (1) point if it works in a soup

a pasta may earn one (1) point if it might stick (cooked) on the ceiling

a pasta may earn one (1) point if it could probably be used to build a bridge for matchbox cars

a pasta may lose one (1) point if it sticks together unreasonably

a pasta may lose one (1) point if water gets stuck in it and surprises me with pasta water bites

a pasta may lose one (1) point if i can't eat it with a spoon

a pasta may lose one (1) point if it won't fit in a pot without being broken up

a pasta may lose one (1) point if it breaks when dropped from 5 feet (dried and uncooked)

all pasta shapes must be eaten twice (once with butter or red sauce, and once in a primavera), and once i've submitted my scores to myself, i cannot be influenced or bribed to change them. at the end of the year, a Champion Pasta Shape will be announced and celebrated.

so... was that a lot of senseless work for an absolutely pointless goal just so i can eat lots of pasta? heck yeah it was!!

#new years resolution 2025 #pasta shapes #wall of text

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stuckymonkey · 2 years ago

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Hot But Not Bothered

Natasha Romanoff

Pairing - nat x autistic!reader

Summary - it's a very hot day at the compound, and nat is getting flustered by y/n's distaste for over-warm garments.

Warnings - use of y/n, implications of sexy times, reader has autism and too much confidence to care about the demons that are clothes, fingering, oral

Word Count - 1k

a/n - i love this ship, and i thought this was a fun idea! literally ended up turning into pure smut

masterlist natasha romanoff

Summers at the Avengers Compound could get a little heated, in more ways than one. Today was one of the hottest days of the year and an awful time for the AC to take a very unauthorized break.

I lounged around on me and Natasha's shared floor in barely any clothes. The feeling of warm clothes sticking to my skin no matter what was unbearable. I was breaking a sweat just from sitting on our usually comfortable couch.

No matter how much iced water I drank, or how many cold showers I tried to take, I could not cool down. I had drawn all of the curtains closed, making our living room nearly pitch black, save for the T.V that was currently playing.

"Baby, what do you want for dinner?" I heard her call from the kitchen. "Something cold!" I whined. Her footsteps could be heard as she made her way to where I was sitting, only in a pair of pajama shorts and floral mesh bra. "Hi," I made grabby hands at her, successfully getting her to sit on my lap. "Hi," she breathed, her face heating up in a blush.

She was wearing a black sports bra and capris, somehow. "How are you not dying in these?" I asked, tugging at her pants. She shrugged. Having autism was a gift. My grandmother had told me so and I believed her with my whole heart to this day. But it could also make things very difficult for me, like being warm and wearing clothes.

I had a very specific garment palette: baggy hoodies, jean shorts, leggings. The end. See how shirts aren't included there? I hate shirts with a passion, Nat knows this but it never stops her from getting flustered when I don't wear them.

"You know," I whispered to her, "I've seen every glorious inch of your naked body, and you've seen mine, so I don't know what has you all flustered, kitten." she preened at the name, grinding her hips on mine.

She gasped as she must have rubbed her clit the right way on the fabric of our pants. I grabbed a hold of her hips, stopping her movements. Her wide green eyes flew to mine. "Go make dinner kitten. We can play when you get back." She whined while I have her a wink. Reluctantly she got off of my lap, earning a small slap to her ass, making her moan as she went back to the kitchen.

Because it was dusk now, the air had cooled off and I threw on one of Natasha's old shirts. "Hi baby," she giggled as I placed kisses on her neck from behind. She turned around, leaving the counter to kiss my collarbone and rub my nipples through my shirt. "Natty," I grabbed her hands, once again halting her movements.

"Y/n/n," she whined. "Let me play," she said, smirking after licking her lips. I gently spun her back to the counter where she had ravioli cooking on the stove, one of my favourite comfort foods. "Pay attention to the food Natty." I said. Once I saw that the meal had her full attention, I swiftly pulled down her capris, exposing her bare cunt to me.

"Fuck, Nat." I ran my finger through her glistening folds. Her quickened breaths filled my ears as I kept teasing her entrance. "This all for me, kitten?" I asked. "Yes," she managed to get out, doing her best to focus on the stuffed noodles and keeping her knees from buckling.

"Good girl," I purred as I put one finger in. I felt her lean back on my hand, making the heel of it rub against her clit deliciously. She let out sinful groans as she kept tending to the food. I added another finger, moving it quicker as she started grinding and clenching on my fingers.

"You're almost there, aren't you kitten?" "Yes, please." she moaned into the light of the kitchen. I moved my mouth to her dripping folds, licking around where my fingers were buried inside of her, pumping quickly and curling to hit just the right spot. I sucked on her sensitive clit, getting "Oh"s and chants of "Yes, yes, yes!".

Before I knew it she was cumming on my face. I sucked at her cunt, devouring everything I could before straightening up and letting her taste herself on my lips.

We moaned together, moving our tongues in a dance. "Fuck," she said. "tastes good, doesn't it, kitten?" I asked. She hugged me closer and nodded. "I love you," I said, pecking her lips. "I love you too, dekta."

I filled both of our plates and helped her get comfortable on the couch, taking off my shorts and giving them to her, knowing she didn't appreciate being bare for long periods of time. I, on the other hand, loved it.

I loved this woman with my whole heart and I know she loves me too. The show we were watching soon finished, and I helped Nat set up a warm bath to soothe her muscles while I cleaned up the counter.

After cleaning up the dishes and putting the extra food in containers I joined Natasha in the bathroom. "You were such a good girl today" I whispered. She closed her eyes at the praise. I would have joined her but I knew my body couldn't handle the heat, or the task of drying off and feeling a towel against my skin.

Nat fell asleep in my arms, her skin still warm from the bath. Thankfully by then the AC was back on full blast and I could enjoy a comforting night with my best girl and the love of my life. Also the best thing I've ever tasted, but you get it.

#marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #nat x autistic!reader #autistic!reader #natasha x autistic!reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 28 days ago

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a little tiva valentine from me to all of you 🤍

“y’know, hallmark really needs to step up their game,” tony complains into his airpods, scouring the card rack in front of him.

“y’know,” tim counters, sounding exhausted, “you really need to remember the time difference when you call me.”

tony scoffs, “oh hush, timothy! i’m having a crisis and i called my best friends in the whole world to help solve it.”

“i’m just glad to be included,” jimmy pipes up, conferenced in seconds after tim had answered the call. “but did it have to be one in the morning?”

“it’s after seven here and i got so busy this week i forgot about valentine’s day,” tony grumbles and picks up a card that looks promising. he scowls and puts it back when he realizes the card is in french and it’s for a mistress, not helpful. “but like i was SAYING, hallmark needs to step up its game. i’m not seeing any cards for the woman who, you know, was my enemy and then my partner and then my friend and then who i danced around for ten years and maybe hooked up with once or twice -“

“just once or twice?” tim interjects on a laugh.

“yeah, it was that whole summer, wasn’t it?” jimmy’s voice sounds like he’s smiling.

“once or twice,” tony continues, ticking each stage of his and ziva’s relationship off on his fingers as if the dynamic duo hadn’t interrupted, “then who ran away and who i followed and then had my baby and then allegedly died but didn’t and went on the run to protect us and who i’m now living with and co-parenting, but who i’m madly in love with.”

he huffs a huge, dramatic sigh when he’s done, a little bug eyed from the monologue.

dryly, tim asks, “oh, is that it?”

“i think he may have missed a few stages in there,” jimmy continues the joke.

“oh ha! i forgot i’m dealing with abbott and costello here,” tony snaps. “i came to you in my time of need! and neither of you are helping me!”

“ziva probably won’t even care if you don’t get her a card,” tim sighs, put upon. “i think she’s just happy that you’re all together.”

“why don’t you make her a card?” jimmy chimes in. “i did that once or twice for breena and she loved it.”

tony purses his lips, thinking. he taps at his thigh and cocks his head. “that could be a good idea, jimbo. okay, i’ve got like,” he looks at his watch, “negative ten minutes. ziva’s probably woke up the second i left the apartment. this conversation has only been marginally helpful, thank you.”

his best friends grumble from across the ocean and tony doesn’t hesitate before saying, “love you both!”

he says that a lot more these days, to everyone that means something to him. he’s learned not to have regrets that he didn’t say something.

“love you too, tony,” tim laughs down the line and jimmy echoes the sentiment before they both hang up.

now left to his own devices, tony completes his errands, returning to the apartment to find both ziva and tali wide awake and giggling in the kitchen.

“my valentines!” tony crows when he opens the door, arms laden down with bags. tali makes a beeline for him, wrapping a hug around his waist and ziva smiles her amused smile at him from the kitchen. he winks at her and gets a toothy, genuine smile in return.

“daddy,” tali raises an eyebrow at him, her mother’s clone, “where’d you go?”

“secret mission,” he winks at her too and she rolls her eyes, dancing back to ziva’s side.

“a secret valentine mission?” ziva laughs, taking one of the bags from tony’s arms. “less stakes than usual, mr. bond.”

tony snorts. “stakes were plenty high, ms. david,” he replies and leans his hip against the counter. “my best girls only deserve the best.”

he unpacks the bags - ingredients for strawberry nutella crepes, both of their favorite candies, and a jellycat shaped like a ravioli for tali. she squeals when she sees the plush, crushing it to her chest and hugging tony tightly before running off to add it to her - frankly obscene - collection.

ziva starts on the crepes. “i never would have imagined tony dinozzo celebrating valentine’s day,” she muses, cracking eggs.

“yeah, well,” tony laughs wryly, “i didn’t and wouldn’t have. not before you and tali. but,” he shrugs, curves his lips in a smile, “times change.”

“yes,” she returns his smile, raking her eyes over his body, “they do.”

tony nudges one of the bags towards her, tips his chin at it. “i think you forgot something,” he says

ziva wipes her hands on a towel and raises an eyebrow at him, pulling the bag open. tony sees her face change when she spots the gift, the skepticism melting off and her eyes softening at the corners. “another jamcat?” she asks and tony doesn’t even correct her.

“it’s me and you,” he explains, laughing a little when she lifts the plush hearts from the bag. “locked together forever,” tony grins.

“you know they will end up in tali’s room before lunch,” ziva murmurs, wrapping her fingers around one plush arm.

“yeah, but they’re still in the apartment, so it’s fine,” tony shrugs. ziva laughs and steps toward him, cupping his cheek in her free hand and pressing a kiss to his face.

“thank you, tony,” she says softly and he knows she’s not talking about the plush toys

#tiva #tony dinozzo x ziva david #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali david dinozzo #tivali #remember that it’s been a minute since i wrote these two #but i thought of this on the car ride into work and wrote it in like 20 mins lol

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v-ternus · 1 year ago

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GHOULS AND THEIR FAVORITE FOODS

Started thinking of the ghouls a little too much while I was hungry, so Im now here to present this dumpster fire.

Aether: frozen yogurt

He loves when it’s warmer out, it means the cold treat is even better than usual (yes he's the type to eat cold stuff when its cold out). He loves the tart, plain flavor and puts cookie dough bites and butterfinger pieces on it.

Dew: ravioli

Any filling, any sauce. Lil guy will put these away like they��re air. The store bought, premade ones are good, but he loves the ones Mountain makes— mushroom and cheese filled in a brown butter sauce.

Aeon: rice crackers

He likes to think that this is what it must feel like to chew on styrofoam. Sure they taste good, but he mostly eats them for the crunches. He lowkey hates the ones wrapped in seaweed.

Aurora: indian food

She is an absolute fiend for samosas. She could make a meal out of it if only she didnt want to eat everything else on the menu. She loves literally everything, but her favorite is chicken madras. She’s busy eating her way through the menu at the restaurant in town. She goes with Copia every Friday for lunch, its their “thing”.

Mountain: barbecue

He’s in heaven whenever they tour through some of the southern states. Loves brisket. Loves cornbread even more.

(he also just loves meat in his mouth)

Rain: cheap pizza

He loves all chain pizzas, but his favorite is Little Caesars. A crappy and slightly-overcooked-from-sitting-under-the-warmer pizza will cheer him up on even the worst days. Also hates olives. Like he really, really hates them. Dew messed up the first time he ordered and got a supreme pizza with olives and Rain straight up cried.

Sunshine: pierogies

She'll eat any pierogi, as long as you give her sour cream on the side. Sometimes she likes them crisped up in butter, but that's a big sometimes. Sunshine has still not found a filling she dislikes.

Swiss: fancy(ish) pizzas

I cant really blame the guy for liking the woodfired stuff. Favorite toppings include but are not limited to: roasted garlic, roasted peppers, prosciutto, and arugula. Him and Rain are opposites when it comes down to this.

Cumulus: pad thai

Americanized or traditional, she will devour it. Though she regularly eats meat, she only gets tofu as the protein option for her pad thai. Unlike the others who seem to have had the best luck, she has found one that she absolutely hated. It was from an Asian fusion chain restaurant. She would've sent it back if she wasn't so scared of being perceived as rude.

Cirrus: crab rangoon

She hates when there's actual crab in her crab rangoons. She just wants that sweet cream cheese. It is the only thing she asks for when they pick cheap Chinese food for dinner.

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lululandd · 2 years ago

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being john ‘soap’ mactavish’s significant other would include:

had a little power outage today and legit had nothing to do so i wrote these

♡ babysitting his nieces and nephews.

this man has hella extended family and he loves them so so so so so much so he visits them fairly often and ofc they all flock to him when he does. you two would take them out on walks and does playtimes and cute little sleepovers. (mans has onesies and jammies that matches with them its so heartwarming)

♡ funny post-it notes around the place.

you would be looking for something in a cupboard and he’d leave a note saying ‘i put it on the top shelf’ and when you rummage around the top shelf there’d be a note saying ‘made ya look lol (im just kidding its right here)’. there would also be sweet notes hidden in jacket pockets🥺💖 like the true romantic prankster he is.

♡ night screaming.

he seems nonchalant and doesnt need to decompress after work like his teammates does, but he does suffer night terrors and he screams in his sleep. his teammates names, or just a loud ‘NO’ and a myriad other things. sleeping medicine makes this a lot worse because you cant wake him up from whatever nightmare he is having quick enough and he screams for much longer so he doesnt take sleeping meds or anything that could induce drowsiness. it's terrible when he has a cold because on one hand he needs the sleep and the medicine but on the other it would make the nightmares last longer.

♡ ice.

soap loves sucking and chewing on ice. is it is it in the middle of winter? he does not care he still will be doing it. sometimes he kisses you after and holds you in place as you laugh and try to squirm away.

♡ inadvertently picking up his accent.

especially if you're not scottish but lives in scotland. you’re not mocking him you swear!

♡ big fat quiz of the year.

he loves watching these and play along. he misses so much civilian things and would love to know what events he missed during the year. he found out gaz also watches these and they legit spent 15 minutes giggling about the mitchell brook primary school children, repeating their little “oh nooo!”

♡ helping him shave his mohawk.

mans love it when you touch his head gently and begs you to cut his hair every couple weeks as the sides grow out. he pretends as if he ‘cant get the back part right’ on his own.

♡ endless spongebob quotes.

it started because you accidentally said escalators three times in a row and he automatically replies with “EELS” in a deep voice, and you two just lost it. nowadays one of you could point at meatballs in the supermarket, and both would chant “meatballs meatballs spaghetti underneath!” and later if you two happen to pass by the pasta section, “ravioli ravioli great barrier reef!”

#john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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mvst4far · 3 days ago

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hey there ! hope you are having a good day/night. i was wondering if i could request a scott barringer fic where they move into their first apartment together and just super fluff of them throughout the day getting settled and laying down and cuddling at night before bed and being all cute (maybe smut but that would be completely up to you and not necessary if you don’t want to) ??

౨ৎ

A/N: THANKU SM FOR REQUESTING, I LOVE THIS IDEA 🤍 i did add a little smut at the end and i hope it's okay! i'm not best at writing smut but i try 😭 also Scott is aged up in this, so you're both in your early twenties.

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Scott Barringer x f!reader summary: You and Scott move into an apartment together, starting your new life with each other side by side. includes: Fluff and Smut

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By the time you both were eighteen and fresh out of high school, Scott made it his goal to save up enough money and move together somewhere in the city. Where you dreamed of living and spending the rest of your life. With Scott working nonstop, it really did pay off. He basically bought you the apartment of your dreams. With a large living space, plush couches, open ring lights hanging over the kitchen counter and a fairly large bedroom to share with a bathroom connected.

After endless hours of moving furniture into your new apartment with the help of yours and Scott's parents, the two of you could now finally relax without any interruptions or distractions.

Making your first ever dinner in the new apartment, you started the journey with Scott's favorite, a creamy tuscan ravioli. Placing the hot meal into a round bowl from the frying pan, you suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around your middle. Along with a kiss to the side of your neck, Scott's chin now resting on your shoulder from behind.

"Looks good," He mumbled, taking a deep inhale of the fresh food, but your perfume as well. You were wearing the one he bought for your birthday not too long ago, causing a soft smile to curve on his lips.

You smiled and nodded your head in agreement, smoothing the ravioli out in the bowl so it was perfect. "Did you pick a movie yet?"

Scott hummed in response and nodded, pressing a kiss onto your temple. "Yeah, some cheesy romance film." He answered with a slight scoff, earning a quiet chuckle from you.

A comfortable silence washed through you both for a moment as he continued to watch you prepare dinner. There was a faint jazz music playing in the background, that Scott had purposely put on earlier.

"Go sit down, I'll bring your dinner soon." You murmured, gently trying to coax him off of you.

Scott grumbled and shook his head, his face burying deeply into the side of your neck, his arms tightening their grip around your waist. You chuckled at his persistence and gave in, knowing he wouldn't be letting go anytime soon.

౨ৎ

The two of you were now cuddled up against one another on the plush couch, slurping up the tuscan ravioli from your own respective bowls as you two watched the romcom movie playing out on the TV. Scott had one of his hands on your thigh, tracing invisible circles while the other held his fork, his bowl of food balancing on his lap.

After finishing your dinner, the now empty plates were rested on the coffee table while you two were cuddling on the couch. Scott was laid on his back, his head resting against one of the cushions while you sprawled out on his chest. Listening to his soft heartbeat beneath you, his fingers twirling around with a few strands of your hair.

His attention was only mildly focused on the movie playing out, but he was mostly thinking about how lucky he was to end up with you. He was always so grouchy sometimes and often shut you out, but with a few of your soft spoken words, he'd just crumble. He almost felt that he didn't deserve someone as kind hearted as you, but then again, he'd never give you up.

His thoughts were soon cut short once he heard a sleepy yawn escape your lips, his head tilting down to look at you.

"Tired?" He questioned in a murmur, feeling his own exhaustion catch up to him. After carrying heavy furnitures into the apartment, his tense muscles definitely needed to be soaked in hot water.

You nodded your head, eyes fluttering shut then opening again every once in a while. Scott's lips pursed into a thin line as he shifted into a sitting position, bringing you up with him.

"C'mon," He whispered, standing up from the couch with your legs wrapped securely around his waist, as well as your arms around his neck.

Scott quickly turned the TV off with the remote, not bothering to return the dirty dishes to the kitchen and place them in the sink. He was a lot more focused on making you satisfied.

Carrying you across the apartment and into the bedroom, he carefully placed you onto the mattress of the bed that laid out in the middle of the room. He smiled faintly at the sight of you immediately crawling underneath the covers and fell asleep in a matter of seconds, before turning on his heel and heading into the connected bathroom.

He took a quick shower, not wanting to leave you waiting too long without another figure of warmth beside you. Even though his muscles were still sore from heavy lifting, you mattered much more. Quickly changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and a white wifebeater, he emerged from the bathroom and crawled into bed beside you.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, your back now being flush against his chest. He let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"I love you..." He mumbled sleepily before drifting off to sleep as well.

౨ৎ

The next morning came rather quickly due to being so deep in your slumbers, sun pouring through the window with the mixture sounds of early birds chirping which stirred you awake. Once completely conscious, you found yourself wrapped around a much larger build.

You gently removed Scott's arm from your waist and moved to a sitting position, tucking some of your tousled strands behind your ears before checking the time on the clock seated at the bedside table.

Reading, 7:03am.

Sighing at how early it was, you then felt two pairs of arms wrap around your waist again. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Scott now in a sitting posture as well with his icy blue eyes locked on yours.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, watching as his faced inched closer to yours before finally closing the distance. The kiss started out slow and loving which then took a turn. You found yourselves fighting for dominance, tongues tangling with one another.

Scott gently pushed you down onto the mattress, coming to hover over you with his lips never leaving yours. His hands roamed freely over your body before tugging down your pajama shorts, as well as your lace panties. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you couldn't held but moan at the feeling.

His hands leave your body momentarily, quickly discarding his sweatpants and boxers. He wasted no time with you, his long, thick member pushing deeply into your wet cunt.

The bedroom soon became echos of your moans of pleasure, and his. His lips teared away from yours, only to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck.

His pace soon began to quicken, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close.

"Fuck- Scott..." You whined out pathetically, your head lolling back at the feeling of skin slapping against skin.

"Shh... you'll wake the neighbours up." He whispered, trying to hush you, like they weren't already stirred. They could most definitely hear the bed creaking, with the headboard banging against the wall.

Nodding your head at his coax, your fingers now running through his blonde hair with an occasional tug.

"Shit, I'm close." He groaned out, his thick cock sliding in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

Another whiny whimper escaped from you, your back arching off the mattress as you could feel yourself getting lost in the heat.

Scott's breath hitched in his throat as he began to ride out his orgasm, as well as you. His wet, sticky cum coated your wet pussy as you mixed juices together.

Once he was down from his high, he pulled out of you with a shiver from the loss of contact and collapsed on top of you. His chest rose and heavily fell repeatedly, burying his face between your tank top covered breasts.

"That was so good..." You whispered quietly, playing with his disheveled blonde hair.

Scott nodded his head in agreement, his hands roaming over your sides soothingly. He often turned into a needy puppy after a round or love making, always needing comfort.

Nothing better than morning sex.

#hayden christensen #scott barringer #higher ground #moving in together #bedroom #fluff #smut

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bandnerdlevel43 · 11 months ago

Text

Ravioli Week, Day One- Love: Platonic/Romantic/Friend (Favorite AU)

Ravio x Lu Legend (Ravioli), Spirit Tracks Link x Zelda (Zelink) (< Implied)

Summary: Ravio is on a mission to rescue his husband from the Shadow’s tower. Not only does he dread what he finds, the mission doesn’t exactly go as planned, either.

Word Count: 3,742

Warnings: TW for mentions and evidence of torture and drugging, implied talk of Rulie’s whole sacrifice thing, Shadow does swear but it’s minor and I censored it anyway (I don’t swear :/), writer can’t resist making Legend a damsel in distress, mostly angst

A/N: Hello, everyone! I apologize for being… *checks calendar* …an entire week late? Holy Hylia, guys, I am so sorry. I totally missed the actual Ravioli Week. Well, I hope this is worth the wait!

As for the au, I'd like to explain. I didn't really have a favorite au before this, so I decided to use my own that I’ve been playing around with. Essentially, it's Hyrule Warriors Part Two: the Electric Boogaloo, with various companions attached in some way to each Link shoved together in the same adventure. For example, from Wind's Hyrule, Tetra; and from Wars’, Impa. I also added Spirit and his Zelda, since I love Spirit Tracks so much (older than Wind and Tetra bc I think it's funny how Wind would react that his successor is older than he is). And, of course, I had to include Ravio, with a side of marriage because I said so. Basically, this whole au started with me thinking that Midna and Hilda just screeching at each other was hilarious, and now Legend and Rulie are in Dink Jail and the Idiots have to get them out. *Shrugs* What can you do?

If you're still reading this, I use the name “Spectre” to refer to Spirit's Zelda. I can't remember where I found the name, but if anyone can find the person who came up with it, please tell me. Thank you!

That's all I have to say! Enjoy!

----

“Close it, close it, close it!” Ravio gasped.

Link slammed the door shut behind him, throwing his slight body against the rusted steel. Ravio's fingers fumbled against the lock as the screech of claws on metal howled in his ears. The wolfos bayed frustratedly, making Ravio jump. Link groaned, his legs visibly shaking under the strain. Frankly, he was surprised the boy hadn't already snapped like a twig.

“Done!” Ravio scrambled away from the door. The wolfos behind it was very angry at the setback, that he could tell. He held his breath, waiting for the creature to burst its way in despite his best efforts. The thick metal rattled and, in some places, warped before its force, but its attempts proved fruitless. A snarl sounded from behind the door, and from then, silence. Ravio sighed while Link sank to the ground with a tiny whimper.

“Are you alright, Mister Link?” Ravio panted.

“I'm fine,” the Hylian chuckled. “That hurt, though.”

Ravio helped him up. Link stumbled to his feet, but he was relieved to see no further struggle.

“Next time, I'm locking the door,” Link told him.

Ravio shuddered. “I should hope there is no next time,” he mumbled.

Link snorted. Suddenly, his eyes widened, stepping around Ravio with his jaw agape. Ravio blinked, turned around, and sucked in a breath.

He had never seen anything like it, and not in a good way. The dungeon was two floors tall, but apparently empty. The only light came from a couple of holes in the ceiling that allowed the smallest rays of sun to poke through. The smell of mildew drifted on stale, chilly air and burned his nose. Broken pieces of stone littered the floors and soaked in pools of water, giving the whole place a dilapidated feel. The cells were somehow even less sanitary! It was obvious that these cells had held a variety of creatures. Clumps of fur had been hastily shoved into corners, piles of hay lay rotting in a plethora of puddles, and rusted chains had been ripped from their place on the walls, bits and pieces of them tossed carelessly to the floor. The whole place reeked of decline and despair. Ravio's heart sank.

“Wow,” Link laughed nervously. “I’d almost rather have another go with the wolfos.”

“Link,” Ravio breathed.

“Hm? Oh- hey, wait!” Link called as Ravio dashed off to the nearest cell.

He went from cell to cell, giving each the briefest glance possible to confirm they were empty. He never considered himself a religious man, or at least one who actively worshiped the Goddess. Faith was for those who still held hope that things would get better on their own. He was far from believing in divine intervention, especially not invoked by his own hand. Despite this, he found himself pleading to Lolia to please, let him be somewhere else. Somewhere other than this horrible cesspool of a prison.

“Link?” His wobbling voice bounced off the stone and danced around his ears. “Link, it's Ravio. Can you hear me?”

An agitated pause. Ravio licked his lips anxiously. Maybe there was hope. Maybe they misjudged and this was the wrong chamber. Legend would be somewhere clean, humane, and maybe even comfortable. He almost sent a prayer of thanks to the Goddess when a weak, piteous moan destroyed his optimism.

Link (this was about to get confusing, very quickly) caught up. “He's upstairs,” he said seriously.

That was all he needed. Ravio ran for the stairs, Link close at his heels. He nearly tripped multiple times and even stepped in a puddle once. Still, the icy water couldn't hope to compare to how his blood ran cold with dread. Hilda had told him to be prepared for the worst sights, and Impa had been far too ready to provide vivid descriptions of torture, druggings, and- ohh, he was going to be sick. His own paranoia made him lightheaded.

“Ravio-” Link puffed. “Ravio, you have to remember-”

“I know,” Ravio replied tightly.

“We don't know what's up there,” Link insisted. “You can't do anything rash, alright? Stick to the plan. Whatever happens, don't…”

Ravio froze. Link trailed off, following his eyes until his own rested on the slumped form two cells down. It watched them, wary but unmoving. Like a prey animal that had already accepted its demise.

“Link?” Ravio asked shakily, fearing the response.

The figure hesitated. Then came the hoarse reply: “Rav..?”

“Lolia,” Ravio swore under his breath.

He was there within seconds. Legend sat up, slowly, with a grimace. His chains clinked as he shifted, and Ravio couldn't help but notice how well-oiled and shiny they were compared to the despondency of the rest of the cell. Anger swelled in his chest. He cursed the Shadow, and the monsters who did this to him. He cursed Lolia; and, while he was at it, he cursed Hyrule's goddess Hylia as well. How could she let this happen to her chosen hero?

“Ravio,” Link said abruptly. “The portal.”

“Right!” He dug into his satchel until his fingers bumped against the jagged shard of metal. He lifted it out and gingerly set it on the floor.

The sound of chains shifting caught his attention. He glanced over. Legend had moved into the light, and oh- it was worse than Ravio could have ever imagined. He was covered head to toe in gashes and bruises. Many of his wounds were red and swollen from infection. His wrists were wrapped in harsh burns. Worst of all, though, were his eyes. His eyes were heavy but dark from too many sleepless nights. They carried so much distrust and uncertainty, but within that a small glimmer of hope that was too hesitant, too weary. Ravio's heart never ached so painfully before.

Legend reached his hand out between the bars, his fingers shaking with miniscule tremors. The flesh on the top of his hand had been shredded and torn thoroughly, and only on that hand. Ravio had only a heartbeat to feel a flicker of confusion before Legend’s fingers touched his cheek, brushing his skin lightly.

“It- It is you,” he croaked. “I-I thought they had drugged me again. Ravio, I-”

“Shhh,” Ravio hushed softly, gently holding his battered hand. He gripped Ravio’s own tightly, like a man drowning. “Save your strength. We’re getting you out of this place.”

“Ravio, I lost it,” Legend said hoarsely, squeezing his hand. “I tried to hide it, but they took it. They took your bracelet, too-”

“Breathe, Link,” Ravio soothed best he could. “What did you lose?”

Those were definitely tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over at the slightest provocation. “The ring,” he whispered. “I lost our ring.” He hung his head shamefully. “I’m sorry, Ravio.”

Ravio’s heart shattered. He shook his head violently, cupping Legend’s face with his hands. “No,” he said sternly. “No, Link, look at me- It's not important. It's just a dumb piece of metal. It's not important.”

Legend's expression was so pained it had Ravio’s eyes stinging as well. He forcefully swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Keep it together, you stupid rabbit, he scolded himself. He doesn't need you breaking down too.

“It's more than that,” Legend mumbled. He looked like he was about to say something else, but a bout of coughing attacked Ravio's ears instead. He groaned, his breath rattling in his chest.

“The portal's ready.” Link approached from behind Ravio, and Ravio didn't miss how he had unsheathed his sword, standing protectively over the two of them. “The keys will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” Ravio said genuinely. Link nodded in return.

Legend’s eyes flickered in suspicion. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Link.” Link lifted his hat in a polite greeting. “But you can call me Spirit.”

Thank the Triforce he had a name ready. However, Legend didn’t share his welcoming attitude. “There’s another one?” he remarked incredulously.

Link- Spirit- grinned at that. “Seems like it.”

Legend snorted, which encouraged another coughing fit. “Delightful,” he grumbled.

While Ravio was glad to see some of his usual sarcasm show through, he was concerned for the younger hero. He didn’t want him hurt or put down by Legend’s gruff exterior, but it seemed he didn’t need to worry. Either Spirit (This is going to take some getting used to) hadn’t detected the edge in his words, or he was simply being a good sport.

It was probably the former.

Ravio didn’t have time to elaborate on the thought. Without warning, an invisible finger traced a circle in the ground by Link- blast it, Spirit! Startled, Spirit leaped back as the circle developed a waterlike film over the center. Ravio only stood when the portal spat out Shadow- and only Shadow.

Shadow hung in the air, his lip curled as he hurled an explosive back down through the portal. A muffled boom and a warped chorus of shrieking answered him.

“Hey!” he snapped. “Is this a rescue team or a statuary?! Shut it now!”

“Where’s Zelda?” Spirit demanded, the color drained from his face.

“She’s fine!” Shadow snarled. “Leave that open and we won’t be!”

To highlight his point, a large, meaty hand reached from the open gateway, swiping at Shadow’s feet. He drew his bloodstained sword without hesitation and thrust the blade through the monster’s muscle. He yanked it out ruthlessly and kicked the hand back down. Ravio quickly snatched the piece of the Master Sword off of the floor, which caused the portal to seal closed. Shadow huffed and spat at where the portal once sat.

“Where is she?” Spirit shouted, accusation evident in his tone. “You left her with those monsters, didn’t you?”

“Cool it, train boy!” Shadow bared his teeth, exposing dark tips that made Ravio flinch. Had- Had he bitten a monster? “She told me to. Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do, but loverboy over here-” he jerked his head at an affronted Legend- “is critical to our plan. She…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tipped his chin defensively, and finished, “...is not.”

“WHAT?!” Spirit nearly threw himself at Shadow, who made no move to defend himself. Alarmed, Ravio had to act quickly. He stepped between the two and held the younger back. Spirit yelled at him now, saying, “Let me go, Ravio!”

“I can’t do that, Link,” Ravio said through gritted teeth. “You’re not thinking clearly!”

“Coward! Let me go!”

Ravio winced. He had to admit, it had been a long time since that word had any bite to it, but this time, it wasn’t the word that hurt, but the mouth that spoke it. He held fast anyway. He didn’t mean it, right? “If Shadow says it’s a death trap to go back, then we can’t go back, but Link, listen to me! You have to trust her!”

Spirit stopped struggling, his hands dropping to his sides. Tentatively, Ravio let go. He took a step back, and relaxed when he saw no signs of aggression.

Spirit lifted pleading eyes to Shadow’s. “Please tell me she'll be okay,” he begged.

Shadow nodded cautiously. “She's more capable than all of us combined,” he assured. “She cut down the most massive Hinox I had ever seen with just her sword.” A tiny smile twitched at his lips. “I'm more worried for the monsters than her.”

Spirit mulled that over in his head. Ravio knew how little he trusted the darkling, even after all this time.

“Trust her,” Ravio repeated.

That seemed to work. Spirit glanced his way, then nodded. Not at Shadow, but at him. “Let's hurry, then. The faster we get him out, the less time she's in danger.”

Ravio winced and threw Shadow an apologetic look. The other man simply shrugged indifferently, as if to say, “What can you do?” He unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and said, “What do I shove these into?”

Ravio gestured to the lock on the door, wringing his hands restlessly. He made quick work of it, allowing the cell door to creak open. Ravio rushed in, dropped to his knees, and wrapped his lover in a tender embrace. Legend grunted, but otherwise did not protest. Instead, he lay his head limply on Ravio's shoulder, exhaling deeply.

“I'm sorry we didn't come for you sooner,” he whispered into his hair. “I'm so sorry, Link.”

“Don't…” Legend rasped. “Don't apologize. Just… don't.”

“Hate to interrupt,” Shadow said loudly, “but I have to get between the two of you to release ‘Mister Hero’ here.”

Ravio hastily released Legend, who frowned at Shadow, then at him. Shadow took his place and began unlocking the shackles. Legend continued to stare at him, not at all subtle in his careful assessment. In turn, Shadow winked. Legend looked scandalized.

Shadow stood, and Legend shook the chains off his wrists. Shadow dropped into an exaggerated bow, smirking. “He's all yours.”

Ravio blushed, but knelt before the Hylian once again. Legend's brows furrowed, still glaring at Shadow. “Say his name is Link and I'm punting him into the Sacred Realm,” he warned.

“Ha!” Shadow snickered. “Believe me, I would've done that myself if I was anything like you twinks.” An ironic statement, considering he was the smallest of them all. “No, I'm Shadow. Not the Shadow. Just Shadow. No relation, by the way.”

Legend regarded him with even more suspicion, if possible. Ravio decided this was the perfect time to change the subject. “Can you walk?” he asked.

“Does it look like I've tried?” he retorted. There was an instant flicker of guilt in his worn eyes, and he stared at the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, you're okay.” Ravio smiled softly, brushing his bangs out of his face and tipping his chin up. “It's not your fault.”

“Hurry it up, you two,” Shadow called irritably.

Legend scowled. Ravio distracted him with an outstretched hand. His heavily lidded eyes softened as he clasped his own hand around Ravio's. With a grunt, Ravio pulled him to his feet, which immediately gave out beneath him. Ravio dipped down and caught him before he could fall.

“Oof- I don't think I can walk, Rav,” he chuckled ruefully.

“I'll carry you,” Ravio suggested.

Legend looked dubiously at him, his legs visibly quaking despite being held up by Ravio. “Are you sure?”

“No offense, Link, but you're practically a skeleton,” he pointed out. “I think I can handle it. Now, hold on.”

Granted, Ravio himself was somewhat doubtful, mostly because of his own lack of confidence, but he had to pretend he had it. For Legend's sake. So, he scooped his frail body into his arms and hefted him up. He admittedly stumbled once or twice, but Legend was still shockingly light. He felt another pain in his stomach.

“Ready? Good, can we move?” Shadow said impatiently.

“What's up with you?” Spirit folded his arms.

“In case you hadn't noticed,” Shadow snapped, “Zelda and I weren't exactly making friends-”

“‘Zelda’? What happened to the little nickname you gave her?” Spirit scoffed.

Where had that come from? Ravio widened his eyes, taken aback by the aggression in the young hero's voice. “Guys?” he said timidly.

“Excuse me if I don't see the relevance of Spectre's nickname,” Shadow snarked, his cap lashing like a cat’s tail. “As I was saying, Zelda and I-”

“You wouldn't have to if you hadn't left her to fight a horde of monsters on her own!”

“Would you let me finish my d— sentence?!” Shadow shot up into the air, looming above Spirit, his red eyes flashing menacingly.

Spirit jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “Not if you keep acting like an arrogant hog!” he spat.

Oh, dear. There was way more tension between these two than Ravio had thought.

“Really? You're the one who can't comprehend the fact that Zelda can be friends with someone other than you!”

He was going to have to be the adult here, wasn't he?

Spirit laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of humor. “You would think that I have a problem with her making friends. No, I have a problem with narcissistic, manipulative, self-serving liars like-”

“Shut UP!” Ravio exploded. “Just shut up, both of you!”

The dungeon fell abruptly silent.

Ravio's ears flicked back. He chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously.

Then, slowly, Shadow lowered his feet to the ground. Spirit let his sword fall to his side. They watched him, likely startled that such an exclamation could come from one so emphatically against conflict. To be fair, Ravio was surprised with himself as well.

He waited until all hostility was gone from the two of them before speaking. “Shadow, tell us what you were trying to say.”

Shadow opened his mouth, but Ravio interrupted him, adding, “And no witty quips. Or passive-aggressive comments.”

Shadow gave him a flat look. In an even flatter tone, he said, “Zelda and I didn't make it to the Traveler. We were intercepted by a squad of the Shadow's underlings- which, by the way, were poorly chosen. Personally, I would have gone with something quicker. Lizalfos would've had a much easier time; besides, they have more style than Hinox-”

“So we need to find Hyrule ourselves,” Ravio concluded, ignoring how Legend stiffened in his arms.

“Well, yes,” Shadow conceded, somewhat miffed at being cut off for the third time. “But there's more. It wasn't just chance that a fully armed attack team was just wandering around where we happened to be at the time. There has to be a reason why, and I can only think of two.”

“Spit it out,” Spirit muttered.

Shadow, thankfully, pretended to be deaf. “One:” he announced, holding up a finger, “our information was wrong and they're more heavily armed than we thought. Two, which I believe to be more plausible: the Shadow knew we were coming.”

Ravio sucked in a breath. “So, what you're saying is-”

“We're about to have a whole lotta monsters on our hands.” Shadow glanced at Legend. “And something tells me they're not here for a civil discussion over tea and biscuits.”

“Really,” Spirit said dryly.

“Lay off, Spirit,” Ravio chided. He likely didn't look very intimidating, considering how pale he was. He really shouldn't be the leader here. Where was Hilda when you needed her? “Do you have a defense plan?”

“Other than run with our tails between our legs?” Shadow said wryly. “Nothing.”

“It's an idea,” Ravio sighed, only a little sarcastic. “Escape plans?”

“Hide until Aurora calls us all to rendezvous.”

“How high are our chances of Spectre getting to Hyrule?”

Shadow looked at Spirit and exhaled deeply. “Look,” he started. “I have no doubt that she can scrape through alive. But alive with the Traveler? No chance. She won't have time.”

Ravio sighed again. “You're really great at having a positive outlook, aren't you?”

“Glad I could help.”

He wrinkled his nose, but continued. “What about us?”

“What?”

“What are our chances of reaching Hyrule?”

Shadow narrowed his eyes. “Depends on what your husband knows.”

Legend stilled. Ravio gazed with concern down at his lover, who had squeezed his eyes shut, as if to hide from the world.

Ravio was torn. They were probably Rulie’s only hope of escape, but he hesitated to ask. Legend looked close to tears again. He opened his mouth, but to his surprise, Legend spoke.

“They moved him about a week ago,” he said. His voice was hoarse again. “He'll be somewhere cleaner. To- To keep him healthy.”

The way his voice broke didn't exactly put any of them at ease. Shadow's jaw was tense and his skin looked more gray than Lolian brown. “That's quite a lot of positivity, Sunshine.” He licked dry lips. “Don't overdo it, now.”

“Wait, hold on a minute- What do you mean ‘keep him healthy’?” Spirit asked apprehensively.

Ravio wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but before either could respond, Shadow's ears pinned back against his head. Without warning, the darkling pounced at Spirit and threw him to the ground, shouting, “Get down!”

Twin fireballs of blue and orange hues whizzed over their heads. Ravio ducked in the nick of time, the blue one just grazing his hair. Chills scrambled down his spine as he whipped around.

Spirit tossed Shadow aside with a growl. He jumped to his feet and froze. Before his eyes floated a large bat-like monster with a flat snout and rings around its intelligent eyes. And it was swelling. Fast. Great Goddess, did this thing even have a skeleton?

“Look out!” Shadow hollered.

Spirit let out a string of colorful curses that would've made Tetra proud and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's breath, which of course had to be fire. Why did it always have to be fire?

The flames singed the end of Shadow’s cap. He rolled to put it out and drew his sword in a fluid motion while Spirit, for some odd reason, pulled his boomerang from his pouch.

“I killed you!” he shouted furiously. “What’re you doing here?”

“You know this charming fellow?” Ravio gasped.

“Unfortunately.” Spirit grimaced. “Real pain in the- Shadow, duck!”

Shadow leaped into the air. Blue fire shot from underneath him. The bat screeched.

“What do we do?”

“That's the best question anyone's ever asked today!” Spirit snorted.

The cogs in that head were turning; Ravio could tell. He took in his surroundings in less than a second and dropped to his knees. He began rifling through his pack. “Shadow, get cozy. Distract that thing!”

“What?!” The darkling swore through his teeth. “Alone?”

“Exactly! Ravio, take the Vet and get out of here. We'll stall him.”

Shadow turned sharply. He flicked his fingers, tossing something shiny directly at Ravio. It flew through the air and landed awkwardly on Legend's nose.

“Keys!” Shadow yelled. “Go! Find the Traveler!”

“We'll handle this!” Spirit agreed.

Ravio took a step back. He gawked at Spirit. He couldn't deny his overwhelming panic, but he wasn't about to leave them!

“Go!” Shadow commanded, bloodstained teeth glinting in the light of the fire.

He hesitated, afraid. Could he really turn and run, just like that? But then an image of Legend bloodied and motionless presented itself in his mind’s eye, so he turned and fled.

What could he say? He had always been a coward.

He just had to hope that his family didn't end up the same way.

----

A/N: So, yeah! If you have any questions about my au, feel free to scream at me through my asks or the tags. (Bonus points if you can guess who they’re fighting hehe) Love you all!

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