#i just wanted to get in touch with my roots y'all

[juletheghoul]

Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. (I kept Tess out of this story) Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker) (Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too. 

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown. 

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features. 

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?” 

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it. 

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating. 

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view. 

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it. 

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out. 

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate. 

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing. 

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand. 

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over. 

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit. 

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him. 

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms. 

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness. 

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs. 

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this. 

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap. 

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly. 

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes. 

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you. 

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up. 

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance. 

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly. 

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck. 

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time. 

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him. 

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward. 

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it. 

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes. 

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you. 

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity. 

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you. 

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands. 

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was. 

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up. 

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels. 

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass. 

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

-

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it. 

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it. 

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come. 

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away. 

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic. 

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front. 

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men. 

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

-

His hands always shake before it starts. 

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. 

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back. 

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it. 

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps. 

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs. 

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly. 

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him. 

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them. 

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent. 

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety. 

His body always betrays him. 

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way. 

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you. 

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath. 

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise. 

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway. 

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face. 

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you. 

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly. 

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body. 

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come. 

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face. 

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now. 

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm. 

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it. 

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self. 

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches. 

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback. 

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest. 

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze. 

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone. 

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time. 

-

Tag list: @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue

[flcwermimi]

❛ TAP INTO THE VOID STATE / SHIFT INTO YOUR DR THROUGH LUCID DREAMING ❜

Okay I believe this is one the easiest method if we stay consistent to the routine ( well the routine isn't that long y'all are just lazy to do it and later you will cry about saying ' I will never have my dream life , void is fake , vlogger are lying and blah blah ' I know u are all frustrated overwhelmed defeated by your failures but persist isn't living the life you've dream is worth?

— okay no more motivational speaking I guess you all know what is best for you

What is lucid dreaming?

‣ Lucid dreaming is when you’re conscious during a dream. This typically happens during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the dream-stage of sleep ( though my thoughts on this are you can do it anytime you don't need to be in REM STAGE )

‣ During a lucid dream, you’re aware of your consciousness. It’s a form of metacognition, or awareness of your awareness. Often, lucid dreaming also lets you control what happens in your dream.Some people report that lucid dreams feel very vivid and real, while others say they feel a bit hazier. Others say their lucid dreams feel different every time.

Why lucid dreaming?

‣ So I know most of y'all in this community find it too hard believe in the void/reality shifting and no matter how hard you try to believe the vlogger and anon you can't because of failures and other outer forces which has rooted in your subconscious conscious and unconscious mind since your childhood.But you all are very familiar with lucid dreaming you all have experienced it and even studied it thorough diffrent phase of your life so you know it's not fake

— remember every method you try is right you don't need perfect void concept , a perfect method, a perfect subliminals or perfect space to enter the void or shift it's all within you - believe that you're doing right trust yourself and everything is on your command

' let's start with the steps '

🤍 : first keep a dream journal and jot down your previous dream and if you don't remember your previous dream script a dream which is alike your everynight dream

🗒️ : Listen to this subliminal at least two hours a day ( you can do 1 hour in morning when you wake up and one hour in the night when are about to fall asleep & also when you're listening to subliminals you can just affirm that 'you all aware when you're dreaming/ you can lucid dream on your command/ you can lucid dream easily and effortlessly every night)

🌬️ : Do reality checks every 1-2 hours day ( counting your finger, pinching nose , bitting tounge)

What to do at night first?

→ Lay down in star fish position

→ Start counting & affirm [ I will be lucid dreaming tonight ] till you fall asleep

What to do when u are lucid dreaming ' actually '?

→ Many people when they are aware of dreaming get's excited and start creating a portal which cause the dream to collapse or slip away and the end either they wake up or fall asleep so if you want to not end up here follow the steps written below:

Now u are aware that you're finally lucid dreaming so don't excited or get scared every individual have different dream's so what u will doing first is the reality check ' count your fingers & remember u never have 10 fingers in your dream' - touch the grass or even bite your tongue

After doing reality check affirm 4-5 times ' stabilize dream & increase lucidity ' this will help you remain balanced

Now it's time to create Portal in your dream' there must be some kind door or windows ( it can also look like a cave or something werid) so u will enter the door/ window/ portal slowly and u will affrim either what u want [ if u want to enter the Void - I am in the void/ and if u want to shift - I am in my DR ] That's it congrats u did it

Okay so some people don't have doors/windows they also have people together them u will just gonna say to them take me to to void or to your DR and pls😭 don't try to control your dream too much your intrusive thought might win & u can create a portal itself like can make a door with anything!!

That's all you all got this luv y'all 🤍

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [Teaser]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

A/N: Special thanks to the sweet @sundaybossanova for coming up with the main concept of Yunho's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Mr. Ryu, I'm afraid I'll need all your raspberry and peppermint leaf supply for the day. Lady Park hasn't been doing too well in the early stages of her pregnancy," the physician announced upon entering the apothecary where he regularly obtained his medicines and herbs, his eyes busily scanning around for anything else that could be useful.

"Is that so? You might want to consider our latest batch of Codonopsis root imported directly from China just a week ago. It's highly effective in boosting vital energy and reducing fatigue during pregnancy."

Yunho's head shot up in surprise.

First of all, why hadn't he thought of that before? More importantly, the feminine voice addressing him sounded nothing like the elderly man who usually managed the store. He turned to find a young woman behind the counter, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"O-oh, um... hello there. I didn't realise Mr. Ryu had such a young wife," he blurted out before cursing himself, feeling embarrassed for making such a hasty assumption.

Your face immediately twisted in disgust, "Goodness gracious, you're severely mistaken! I'm his daughter!"

Way to go, you complete idiot!

This is probably gonna be the least angsty one out of all the spinoffs hehe but y'all know how I am, the climax might get a little exciting🙈 As always, I'm excited to hear your thoughts on the concept!

Tag list (1/8): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs |

@the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent |

@stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary |

@superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 |

@marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 |

@myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf |

@shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 |

@dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 |

@dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks |

@borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 |

@beauty143 @naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 6}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the splinter of wood and a muttered insult, you're done. You're done with the town; you're done with the hot and cold from Joel. You're tired and you don't have anymore fight left.

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, heavy angst, blood, mild injuries, description of stitches, reader had a mild injury, the holidays are hard, a lot on internal monologue in this (both joel pov and reader), hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, though he is a bit daft in this, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, hurt and comfort, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, kissing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably angsty, reader loses her cool, argumentative language, heated arguments, threatening language, fighting, wwe smackdown, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: okay, this is the penultimate chapter! this series grew into something way beyond a cheeky handful of scenes that were just a random thought six months ago. it's been a joy to write for these two, i've put so much of myself in olive and for y'all to root for her and love her really warms my heart. the interaction with this has been insane and i love all of it, i love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Sleep was such a pull on your psyche as the wind outside howled, battering anything that wasn’t secure and echoing loudly through the empty streets of Jackson. The habit of waking up throughout the night to peer outside your bedroom window and toward the small slip of the front street over your backyard fence periodically had been amplified in the storm. Unease settled in you, the storm bringing back memories you would father let fade into nothing. Inclement weather had been a challenge back when the world was whole, when safety measures were in place, when medical aid was abundant, when homes and buildings were constructed with them in mind. But even back then, they had been devastating.

And now?

They were as deadly as the virus.

Incessant snowfall all through the night, the light sprinkle of it last night turning into slanted sheets of downpour. It was blindingly bright on the other side of the windowpanes.

Despite the lockdown put in place by the council, you had told Maria depending on the streets that you would still make it to the mess hall. The intention of baking some breakfast casseroles hard to shake, of wanting to provide for those who may not have stock in their homes, or who relied on the mess hall as a main source of food. Layering as much as you could to combat the below freezing temperature, you pulled on your boots by the front door. Grabbing a knit cap and a scarf, you opened your front door and trudged through the snow drifts that had formed overnight.

Joel is panicking before he’s even fully conscious. His heart feels like it’s stopped but knows that it’s beating far too fast. His entire body feels weak and achy, his head pounding and overflowing with too many things. He felt nauseous, the drag of his lungs and the slushing of his stomach too much for him to handle. He groaned, pressing his face further into the pillow, the scent of his body wash wafting up and making it even worse.

He fucked up. He knows he did.

You had raised your voice at him, refused his help, his touch. Even as you laid collapsed on the ground because he had accidently knocked you down. You had been so worked up, so angry, but he had seen the way you clutched to your middle as you fled from him for a second time. He cursed low, the words a growl as he kicked the blankets from his sweating body despite the chills crawling down his spine.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He knew that woman was bound to be nothing but trouble. She was always a little too chatty for him, too willing to burst his bubble of personal space. But she had wiggled her way into his life and coerced him into a huge project that had taken so much of his free time leading up to the holidays.

He was a giving man, having been influenced by the acceptance he had been given here in the settlement, wanted to do what he could to help establish himself here. Not wanting to go back to the eat or be eaten mantra of the outside world or a collapsing quarantine zone. He had wanted to be everything he could manage for Ellie, to keep her safe here in a place that would allow for her to heal from the things they endured together. To survive in a way she hadn’t had the chance to, to have a life that wasn’t all bad. He had done his best to integrate, to be someone she could look up to and feel safe around. All of it had been for her, to have holidays, to have friends, to have a chance at finding out who she was without the undercurrent of survival being the only inspiration. And maybe ha had wanted it for himself too.

He had wanted to invite you over, try his hand at making you something for a change. If you had teased him over it, so be it, he would’ve taken it without argument. Just to see your lips quirk up and your soft laughter ring in the air of his kitchen. He would give anything for it to be his to witness.

The faux image of the domestic scene melted away, replaced by the one of you on the ground at his feet, with fear in your eyes. He hadn’t thought you were afraid of him, so open and willing to be in his space.

To tease him and lightly berate him when his answers were less than appropriate or too gruff.

Joel had never shown violence or distaste toward you, but yeah maybe he had been quieter or moodier on some patrols. But he wouldn’t get the chance to speak with you today. Patrols cancelled until the blizzard raging outside calmed down. A safety precaution that had been made lightly by the council. The risk of a group or pair getting stuck, of horses unable to handle it, of snow drifts forming and virtually undetectable, all of it had been taken into consideration. He wasn’t sure you were even cleared for patrol with your stitches. No pain killers you had said, reserved for extreme cases with how the supply was dwindled down to too little for a town of a few hundred.

Groaning as his head hammered, Joel shoved up from the bed, the blue sheets showing damp spots from his sweating and aching body. Scowling, he stripped the bed and made his way downstairs with them bundled in his arms. He felt a weird sense of déjà vu as he stuffed them into the top loading washer, reaching for the jar of powdered soap and pouring in a scoop. It was all so fucking normal. But his whole world felt like it was tilted, off kilter. Even more so than normal.

And it was because he knew he fucked up. He had hurt you, he had seen in it your eyes as you took in the way Marsha was clinging to him in her drunken state. The way she had deemed herself important enough to impinge on his time with you, so rare within the walls. Both of you so busy and both of you so afraid to ask after each other’s time. He knew he was, because he didn’t want to intrude on the way you kept to yourself, how you let your errands build up to take a whole day sometimes. And he knew some of that was because of the way people wouldn’t hold conversations with you, let alone start them. Opting to keep to yourself as a coping mechanism. Not wanting to feel like you were imposing yourself on the people who didn’t want to interact with you. He knew, because he had felt much the same way back in the quarantine zones, even if it was more born out of fear than distaste like it was for you.

He knew when you stumbled over your words to ask after him crafting something for you that you had worried yourself into a state before you even did it. Worried about taking up his time, taking up his resources, even if you had supplied him with the wood for the project. He had felt like a complete ass when you shut down and walked away, having felt comfortable enough to ask for something more when he had agreed to the first.

But Marsha. Marsha and her ill-placed infatuation with him had ruined the moment last night. You had told him you liked him, liked him. The heat he felt from you as he leaned in close and wanted to tell you he felt the same way. Shared and stolen kisses could only infer so much. And he groaned at the memory of pulling your hand over his erection the other morning. He was a damn fool to have done that, you had been pulling your hand away, but you had been touching him in his sleep. When he wasn’t able to tell you no, when something inevitably broke the moment, when something startled you or you thought too hard about it. You had just done it and the dilation of your eyes watching him, the hitch of your breaths, it had all been too tempting. He wouldn’t have told you no and he would’ve ignored the world ending all over again if it meant he could be with you in that way, even just once.

The older woman broken another tentative moment between you two. With the courage of alcohol flowing in her veins. It had made her bold in her words to him, her sentiments, her actions. Hell, the only reason he hadn’t heard your steps on the street was that he had been in shock. She had surged up and pressed her lips to his after he had denied her offer of a nightcap. He had just been trying to walk her home and make sure she was safe, even if he wasn’t overly fond of her, her friends had all been too unaware of themselves to help her.

Anger had overridden the shock; how dare she think she could do that. His heart wasn’t his to give, it was yours. And he had been about to tell you so.

The weak arguments of the woman defending herself and the gift she had gotten him even if she hadn’t gotten his name in the exchange for today had blurred his senses even more. His mind focused on the holiday, on taking you the gift he had made along with his heart. Hoping that today would be the day things were out in the open, plainly spoken and accepted. He only worried about how well you would receive him after being caught with Marsha last night.

Today.

Today was Christmas and the town was in a semi-state of lockdown with the strong winds and flurries of show raining down to collect along the streets. The bite to the air the worst of the season so far. Turning the washer on, he moved toward the coffee maker. Only to discover that he was out of grounds to brew.

With a string of muttered curses, Joel bundled up and braved the weather to cross the street.

He needed coffee and the gift he had left with Maria yesterday.

Tommy was pacing back and forth, waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing. It had been an early morning, Maria rising hours ago and taking off with another neighbor to trek toward the mess hall where you had diligently showed up for your shift. Everyone had been advised late last night to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary.

A knocking barely echoed through the still howling wind. Thankfully, the snow had stopped, though it was built up deep all around the settlement.

A few moments later and both men were seated in the living room, the tea light candles flickering underneath two names etched in chalk above the mantle.

“She won’t be home much today.” Tommy supplied, reading the anxious silence Joel was stewing in beside him. “She trekked through one of the worst bouts of this weather to get to the mess hall. Wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat in case the power stutters or goes out. Her, Maria, and a couple others are gonna deliver meals door to door.”

“She’s too good for how people treat her.”

“From what I hear, you haven’t been treatin’ her too good either, brother.” Tommy took a long pull from his mug before he set it down on the coffee table. “She was over here after that overnight patrol, helpin’ with Macon. Was so tired she was rambling about how much she appreciates everything you do ‘round here, how talented you are, how nice you are to her. But then if you’re so nice, why doesn’t she have one of the cutting boards that was her idea.”

“It ain’t that simple. I can be nice to her and not have one of ‘em for her.” Joel couldn’t turn to look at his brother, knowing how easily he would read him. Read the anxiety and worry he felt over the entire situation. All the miscommunication. All the mixed signals he had been giving you without realizing it. He thought you had opted to not talk about the kiss because you were uncomfortable, because you were worried he hadn’t liked it or wanted it. Because he hadn’t exactly told you that he did, that he dreamt of kissing you, of holding you, of protecting and providing for you. Spending quiet evenings in with homemade meals, nights out at the bar, helping you with the harvest again next fall. All of it, he thought about all of it with you.

“Why don't you just make her one, I don’t get it."

"Drop it, Tommy, she's not getting one."

"I thought you liked her, I thought...I thought I saw you two kissing the other night. Sure as hell looked like she had been caught red-handed."

"We…we were. We have, a few times., but she thinks I’m with Marsha because that…insane woman has taken such a liking to me. Saw me walking her home from the bar the last night because she downed far too many shots and Millie was nowhere to be seen.”

“She knows you, trusts you not to do that to her if you’ve shown interest. Just give her a cutting board and I’m sure it’ll all blow over. That's all she wants Joel, to feel included. Like she's a part of something.” Tommy was wringing his hands in, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought over his next words. “A lot of people have them and she doesn't. It's basically an insult thrown in her face."

“Fuck, I didn't think of it like that."

The sip of coffee Joel took turned bitter in his mouth. He really hadn’t thought of it like that. He had just been trying to hone his skills with the new craft before gifting you the best one he could make. He set down the mug, stomach turning as the acid settled heavy. Rubbing his palms roughly over his face, rustling the thick hairs of his moustache.

"She's going to ask to be taken off patrol, Joel. She did ask before you showed up, stop it altogether and just focus on the mess hall. She feels like it would be easier to avoid the looks and gossip. We know about it, the council, but there’s not much we can do about it.” Tommy was obviously upset, his voice thick as he divulged something you had gone to him in a moment of weakness. He recalled the way you had been in tears, hurt beyond words by the acceptance that Joel and Ellie had been given as newcomers when you had been here for years and how upset you were at yourself for being jealous of it.

“But she kept at it as a favor for me, to help me keep you alive. To help me feel okay with not being by your side out beyond the walls when I couldn’t be. Because I worry, I worry so damn much about you brother and I just want you to be okay. She saw that, she saw that and took it onto her own shoulders because she cares about me.”

Joel sighed, his brothers words blossoming warmth in his chest.

“I am going to make her one, Tommy. From that piece of trunk I had you help me get from her yard. But it’s drying, the slabs I got from it. Already lost one and the other two need to dry.” He huffed out, chest tight as he thought of how long it would take. “She said the wood she brought me for those spoons took months to dry.”

“They’re beautiful, the whole set. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Tommy nodded to the box that contained them on in the kitchen. Of course he had looked them over, finding them when he had woken up and curious as to how they ended up in his own if your name was scribbled on the top of the box.

“But she came to me and asked for them, Tommy. It’s not gonna be the same if what you’re sayin’ is true. It’ll feel like a consolation when it’s not. It’s just the beginning of what I’m willin’ to give to her.”

“Then you should tell her that. She deserves to hear it.”

You ignored the knocking at your door, sleep keeping you weighted to the couch in your living room.

But the crack of wood and the clash of metal following a loud gust of wind had you surging up to your feet.

“Shit-“ A grunted curse was the only greeting you got before the door swung open to reveal the large shadow of Joel just outside of it.

“Joel? Why the hell would you break down my door?”

“It was an accident, I was just knocking and the wind got me-“

“Forced your way into my home? I thought I told you to leave me alone.” You hugged yourself, arms tight as you tried to shield away from the chill creeping into the living room.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. Please, I wouldn’t-“ He stumbled over his words, turning his back to you in order to try and set the door back into the frame. The wood was splintered around the lock, preventing it from shutting completely. He leaned down to get a closer look at the damage. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna have to probably make you a whole new door.”

“Just go, Joel. Please.” You clenched your eyes shut and walked away from the honeyed drawl, ignoring the pull it had on you to move closer. The kettle in the kitchen was just beginning to whistle and you removed it from the stove. But instead of gathering up a mug and the loose leaf tea from a cabinet, you flattened your palms on the table and hung your head.

You flinched when a wrapped box slid between your arms, pushed by a tan, weathered hand.

“’s for you.”  His voice was so tender, his eyes wide and beseeching when you glanced up.

“No, thank you.” You pushed it back toward him, standing on the other side of the table.

“Olive, please. You said your name always gets thrown out of the exchange. I wanted to and it’s what you asked me for.”

He lifted the top of the box, setting the lid down beside it, the ribbon atop it looking far too cheerful for you. Set inside, amid a soft looking swath of cloth, was a set of wooden utensils tied together with a thick string. He held them out to you, a slight tremble in his hands. They were beautiful, the wood crafted expertly and you shook your head to rid yourself of the image of Joel sat in his desk chair face focused as he took the time to carve them from the block of wood you had taken to him.

“I pushed a lot of stuff back to make sure they were just right. Was so careful with the wood you brought to me, it was dense but I managed to sand it down without altering the look of it too much. I didn’t stain it, to keep the natural color, the grain is really beautiful-“

When you didn’t say anything, eyes focused on his chest, he trailed off. He set the gift back down on the table and took a step back, his mouth snapping shut. His gaze heavy on you as you tried to focus and keep your temper under control. But you were at the end of your patience. This time of the year already hard on you. Paired with the hot and cold from Joel, the judgment from the town, the lack of inclusion on anything going on and you were just tired. Deep down in your bones, exhausted.

“Joel…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re a good man. But I really don’t want to do this with you right now. I need some space because whatever I do, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s ruining me.” Your voice had started off at a normal volume, quickly growing as the words rushed from you. Anger flaring overwhelmingly, leaving you panting, chest heaving and hands clenched at your sides. The set of tied spoons resting on the table between you both, like a line not to be crossed. Like a mockery of the things he was offering you a little too late. Surging, you reached for them and hurled them in a display of anger you had thought you had managed to control. “Take your things and go, Joel Miller!”

They clattered to the floor across the kitchen, skidding along the tile to slam into the baseboards. The wood splintering and covering the floor behind him. But he hadn’t ducked, hadn’t brought his hands up to shield himself. Knowing, knowing that you wouldn’t have aimed them at him even as anger and hurt lit you from the inside out. He saw the remorse flash across your face the second they had left your hand.

Knowing that it was all an act of self-preservation. A way to save face, to save the fact that you had been hurt by his actions, his indiscretions. The memory of turning down the street, his hand wrapped innocently around Marsha, guiding her toward their shared street in her drunken state. And when he had declined the offer for a nightcap, she had pushed into his personal space to crush her lips to his.  Of running smack into you when he had tried to put distance between them, his back colliding with your front and crushing the wrapped gift in your hand. The sound of it thudding to the ground and your surprised shout warbling off into a deep breath of realization.

But the woman before him now was the same one who had taken the time to wrap the gift labeled with his name on it. Had taken the time to hand write recipes on a long-forgotten pack of index cards. Step by step instructions for things easy to combine and make nutritious means from. Had taken the time to include little, silly names for the meals that had pulled a tearful chuckle from him as he read them through in his inebriated state.

“I just want to be left alone. I just want, for one measly second that someone doesn’t watch me and wait for me to screw up, to give them a reason to feel disappointed. I-I can take it from the others, but Joel…I can’t handle it if it’s from y-you. Please just go.”

He didn’t go. He moved closer, into your personal space and he was thankful for the way you didn’t shy away from him even as tears raced down your cheeks. For the way you allowed him to cup your face in his hands and press his lips to yours, thumbs brushing away the tears. For the way your own moved against his as he tilted his head and really kissed you. There was no heat behind it like that last time, just adoration and reverence.

Pulling back, he whispered, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

He kisses the fear from you, pleading with you to understand that he's not going to turn his back on you.

He only hopes you can feel it. But your hands don’t rise to caress or cup his face, they don’t rise to rest on his chest, they don’t rise to run through his snow dampened hair. Your lips are barely moving against his and his heart sinks. It chips and shatters on the floor to settle with the pieces of broken olive wood.

But it wasn’t enough. It hurt that his attention wasn’t enough when you thought it would be. It was about his actions. How they had made you feel the last couple of months, since summer. The back and forth, the constant miscommunication, the humiliation of wanting a man who had so much more in his life, who was pulled in so many directions. The respect he had from the people within the settlement for the things he could do, for the things he provided to them. The issue of your reception, the possibility of it affecting his own if he were to be seen with you or you seeking out more of him. All of it was too much, the constant internal turmoil, it was heavy.

It was so heavy and you had to put it down.

“Joel,” Gently pushing him back, but not away, his body willingly moving with the motion. “Why didn’t you make me one, a cutting board?”

He froze.

When he sputtered on a few words before falling silent, you detangled from him. Crossing your arms as shield to your heart.

“This is why I keep to myself. It doesn't hurt when there's no one else involved.” Your voice was a low rasp, giving away the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill, the hot throb of them in your throat. “And even if you did try to be my friend, it's okay that you really don't want to be. You share things with people, you're a giver Joel, but I've had to ask for everything you've given to me.”

He could only watch as you closed yourself off, and you hoped he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. That he noticed just how much his attention had ruined you, because it had. You had been okay with how things were before he came along, content to keep to yourself, to spend patrols with Tommy and Maria. You hadn’t longed for companionship before he showed up and rode alongside you and asked simple questions about the town that developed into questions about yourself. Offering answers of his own in return. You hadn’t wanted before him.

“And that's not who i am, someone who asks for things she deserves. So…you standing there with no answer is you telling me that I don't mean anything to you. You don’t get to make me feel like I mean something and then not follow it with actions. I didn't take you for a cruel man. You say you’ve done things to stay alive, to fight for yourself and those in your care. And I wanted to believe that you changed, that you turned over a new leaf here. But you hurt me, Joel. You hurt me in a way that really…was so unfair.”

Once you let the words flow from within you it was hard to stop, they were a flood being released. Voice not stuttering or scrambling over them like you know you tended to do. Mostly from lack of interaction, of not using your voice most days as you spent it alone in the kitchen, home, or garden. The stuttering an anxious thing born of fear of interacting and it turning sour like it quickly tended to do. Words and sentiments always more ammo for those to use against you. And you could see it, in the man across from you, that he had things to say in response to the many words you were giving him. But you couldn’t, you were tired.

“I deserved better than the treatment I received by the people of this community, of this safe haven for those willing to contribute and who wanted something better for themselves. But the truth is…I’m better off alone.”

His voice cracked on the shape of your name on his lips.

But you shook your head, tears flowing freely and breathing labored.

“Just go, please.”

“Well hey there.” A figure approached you, where you were seated on the same stool at the long bar in the Tipsy Bison for the second night in a row. It was the man of the brother and sister duo you had convinced Joel to trust and bring back to the settlement. They had settled in well, Millie taking to the pregnant woman with a swiftness that had surprised you. But they were both close in age, something rare these days, to find friends you could relate to easily.

“Oh, h-hello.” You looked up from the book you had been reading, hearty sandwich on a plate beside your drink. Only a few bites taken out of it. The book holding your attention far more than the simpering hunger in your stomach. You hadn’t eaten all day, stewing in forlorn silence on the couch until your stomach rumbled. Only to find you didn’t have anything that would make a meal in your home, prompting you to brave the calmer but still whipping winds and intermittent snow fall.

“I just saw you from across the room, Tommy Miller said we could grab a bite here since the mess hall was closed for the day with the bad weather from this morning.” Nolan, you recalled his name. Nolan was nice, polite. You didn’t fault him for pointing a gun at you or Callie for managing to injure you. It was a sick, twisted world out in the wasteland of what was, especially if there was an unborn baby to worry about. They had just been doing what they needed to survive another day. “Guess no one wanted to risk working and getting stuck. I’m grabbing something to go I just wanted to thank you again, for helping us.”

“It’s no big deal. Everyone deserves a chance at something more.” You tried to smile, but you felt drained. From the early morning of cooking and delivering meals to front doors for people. Maria had enlisted the help of a handful of people, but it had been time-consuming to prep and make everything yourself. To bundle it all up into packs that would be appropriate servings.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He moved to sit beside you, startling you at his forwardness. There was a wry glint to his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smile. “While I waited, that is.”

“Oh, t-that’s probably not a good idea. I’m not the most popular here, you’d have better luck integrating with-“

“Whore.” A female voice whispered as someone walked by behind you.

“Excuse me?” You whipped around, shocked at such a blatant display of behavior. You were used to whispers, to errant rumors springing up once you had left a store or a gathering, asked an impertinent question during patrol and general meetings. But this? A direct confrontation was a new level and you were far too tired to handle it. Especially with the day being what it was.

“You heard me, praying on the newcomers to try and sway them on your side.” It was Millie. She was sans coat, having removed it to enjoy her evening in the toasty bar with her gaggle of friends you could see gathered in a booth on the other side of the room. She must’ve come up to the bar for a refill when she decided to imitate her mother and impinge on your rare interactions with people. “I’d be careful if I was you, she tends to get people killed. Don’t want to find yourself the latest victim.”

“The council said that they’re selective of who they let in. Surely they-“ Nolan was trying to be polite, to not overstep his place being so new in such a large community. But you could see the anger in the furrowing of his brow, the frown pulling his lips down, the way his hands were twitching. It was sweet of him to feel the need to try and protect you but this is exactly what you had been worried about. That the two most instigating occupants would try and ostracize him and his sister for associating with you.

“They do, but in her case they should’ve left her out in the woods and let the Infected get her. Be better for everyone if they had.”

You had moved without even thinking. The force of your hand hitting the woman’s cheek loud across the room. The hush of conversation lulling, a tense silence following.

Scrambling to correct the huge mistake you just made, to save face, your words were a breath of stuttered apologies. Your stomach had dropped, no longer a part of your body as your mind moved through the outcomes and ramifications of your thoughtless actions. You had never been one to needlessly lay hands on someone. But…the time you had spent fighting to survive had changed you, altered you beyond what you had been. Your instincts honed and deadly, and you silently thanked whatever force of the universe that was still alive that you had left your knife at home. Otherwise, it would be hilt deep in her chest right now.

It was ugly and it was cruel, but someone could only take so much.

“Millie, oh-oh my god, I’m so sorry. I-“

You didn’t even get to finish your rushed words before she returned the slap, her hand connecting hard with your own cheek.

The sting of it hot, skin throbbing.

And it was like a damn broke. Filling the tunnel and making you desperate for a chance to crawl out.

But instead of breaking out of it into the town, you were transported outside the walls. Relying on your instincts, relying on fighting with everything you had to survive.

You were on her in a flash, not even a second had passed. Both of your knees knocking into the ground around her body. Your hands making contact with any part of her you could. Sounds of her struggling underneath you fly into the air with every punch, every pull of her hair, every push of your body against her. You didn’t care about her nails digging and tearing into your arms, her knees kicking up and colliding hard with your back, her elbows jutting into your ribs. The searing pain of your stitches popping loose.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care. You didn’t care.

Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled, while another held your legs down. Restraining you as you realized you were shouting out that same set of three words over and over again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, calm down.” Soft words, not harsh. And you shouted at them, forced the words from your aching throat, demanding that they let you go. That they leave you alone. Fighting against the people trying to hold you down. You felt your elbow connect with something hard, your knee with something soft and suddenly you were able to stagger to your feet.

Eyes not seeing details, just blurred faces and people standing all around you. Watching. Always just watching. Whispering things behind your back, not interacting with you, ignoring you. And you were done, you didn’t care.  And you shouted it for everyone to hear as you took in the sight of Millie crumpled on the ground. Having turned on her side to try and make herself smaller. Bruises were already blooming along her pretty face, her loose hair a tangled mess. Her nails were chipped and broken from digging them into your skin, the faint sting of them long lines down your arms. Her clothes were rumpled, the exposed skin of her stomach showing signs of bruising as well.

You just stared, unable to draw your gaze away from the whimpering woman. She wasn’t even trying to get up, she wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore. She was just laying there, bellowing out her hurt and looking so pathetic. And it made you feel bad, because she was nothing, would be nothing without the settlement of Jackson. She and her family had been here since the outbreak, safe in their secluded location, safe in the quick thinking of others, safe because of sheer, dumb luck that allowed her to continue being who she had always been.

But even despite the glitter of remorse beginning to shine through, you needed her to understand that you were done. That she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. That for all the things she said and all the hurt she caused, you were the reason she was allowed to strut around town and act that way. You were the reason she was safe behind these walls and had an abundance of food. You were the god damn reason.

“Don’t you ever lay another hand on me, you understand? I will put up with your words, with your gossip, with you stealing every chance for me to have something good. But you will regret ever thinking of putting your hands on me, you hear me? I will fucking end you and make all your rumors true if you do it again.”

Her shuddering breath was the only response you got from her, but it was enough. You turned your back on her, grabbing your coat from the back of the stool you had been occupying, and walked out into the still falling snow.

“JOEL!” The bellow of his name, loud and alarming, startling him from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. He had collapsed there after returning from your place. He had frozen, all the sentiments he had planned to share with you died on his tongue the second you shared with him how much he had hurt you. It seemed it’s all you had experienced since coming here long before he and Ellie did. He hadn’t wanted to argue with you or belittle the things you had said, so he hadn’t. No words or feelings he had would have righted the wrongs done to you.

He felt unworthy of you, having played a part in it. He felt like he failed you, tricked you into an easy camaraderie when he knew after that first smile it would never be enough for him. He should’ve been honest from the beginning, told you he wanted to be someone to you. But instead, he had botched it, he had fucked up.

“Holy shit, dude, you need to come quick!” Ellie hollered as she barged through the front door, the handle slamming into the wall of the entry way and he had the errant through to put a piece of wood there to prevent it from happening again before it tore through the drywall.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He was hurtling up, hands reaching for the panting teenager as she came into the living room. Her eyes bright and shining, her hands trembling. She allowed him to pull her into his chest, his heart thudding, anxiety humming through him harsh and hot.

“It’s not me, it’s Olive.”

His heart stopped, his heart stopped because it was no longer in his chest. It was on the floor, bleeding and immobile between their feet.

“Is she…?” He didn’t even know how to finish his sentence. Gone? Hurt? Injured? Stood in front of Marsha or Millie just taking their words directly? The worst thought of all being shaken from his head because he couldn’t bear to give it life.

“She freakin’ lost it. She went ballistic on Millie at the bar. It took two people to pull her off and then she hurt them too. She was shouting all this stuff about how shit people treat her and then she took off.”

“Took off, Ellie, where?” He pushed her back to duck his head and caught her eyes. Worry spiking and making his mind run through all the possibilities. He needed to know where you went, even if you had sent him from your home with a hollow and broken heart.

“I-I don’t know, she just ran out the door and was gone by the time I tried to follow her.” Ellie reached up and held onto his wrists, her fingers wrapping around them and he realized for the thousandth time how small she was. How much things affected her, how her own trauma showed in ways they could both anticipate and in ways they could not. Seeing violence first hand since settling here seemed to have triggered her and he didn’t like it for either of you.

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you, you’re okay.” He hushed, his words pressed into her forehead. She was trembling and he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her. She clung to him, the winter already a harder time for her than the rest of the year. Awful memories associated with it that no matter how hard she tried to tamp them down, rose to the surface. He held her, offering his built up warmth to sooth her and when the sniffles stopped he lowered them both to the couch.

“Y-you should go find her, Millie tore her stitches open. They took that ungrateful dumbass to the infirmary. But Olive took off.”  

“Okay, but we’re taking you to Tommy’s okay?”

Minutes later they were across the street and knocking on the front door.

“Tommy, listen, I know it’s late. Believe me I know but Ellie needs to take your guest room and I need to know where Olive would go if she’s upset?” Joel didn’t waste any time, speaking as soon as the door began to open. Tommy just looked at him for a second, eyes taking in the thinly veiled panic on his normally calm and collected brother.

“Joel, what in the hell, what’s going on, what are you talking about?” His eyes snapped into focus, lack of sleep vanishing as he realized something happened.

“Olive, she snapped. Something about Millie starting something with some insults that turned into the two of ‘em going off on each other at the bar. Word is she took off, but she’s not at home and she didn’t come to me. Tommy, where would she go?” Joel ambled into the house, his hands soft on his brother’s shoulders as he tried to get the man to focus.

“She, uh, she’s never done anything like this before. She, um, she could have…” Joel could see that his brother was trying to focus on the situation at hand brought to him in the middle of the night, trying to think on so little sleep and energy.

“Tommy!”

“Maybe the cemetery?”

“The council needs to hold thar girl responsible. She should have to go on Olive’s patrols until she’s healed. I mean it, Tommy. I want it done.” Joel gently guided Ellie to the couch, urging her to sit down so he could wrap the throw blanket on the back of it over her. He moved into the kitchen and started a kettle for a cup of tea. Something soothing for her to find sleep easier.

“Joel, I know you’re upset. But Millie’s never been beyond the gates. Her entire family has been here since the walls went up.”

“And that’s why she feels entitled to act the way she does. Slinging insults and making fun of Olive, holding things against the woman like it’s her fault that despite the walls there are still very real threats out there. Not every one of them is avoidable. She needs to learn somethin’ and she needs to do it quick.”

“I can talk to Maria about it, but yeah, you have my word she’ll be put on patrol. Are they okay though?”

“I can’t say much for Millie, but Ellie said Olive pulled her stitches ‘n I gotta go out and find her.” The kettle began to whistle, and Tommy took over on making tea for himself and his niece.

“Then go find her, make sure she’s alright.”

Joel tried to tamp down his anger as he knocked on the front door. It was a momentary stop on his way to where Tommy suggested. The weather had calmed down, but not enough to make it an easy trek. The winds were still howling, though they weren’t nearly as devastating as earlier, snow floating down in soft waves.

“Joel? Oh, it’s so late, is everything okay?”

“I told you I wasn’t playin’ games with you.” He didn’t try and tamp down the frustration in his voice, it needed an outlet and the woman in front of him was a worthy for it. He cut off her startled question.

“Your daughter instigated a fight with Olive tonight. Called her names for the whole town to hear. Raised her hand and physically accosted her. That your best attempt at helping to ease the tension you’ve caused? That how you think people should be treated after spending hours to ensure everyone in town got breakfast in the midst of a blizzard?”

“Joel, Olive hit first. I’m sure of it.” She moved away from the door, from the bulk of him to shove her hands into a thick jacket and her feet into a pair of boots. Joel slammed his hand on the door frame, anger flaring at the woman’s nonchalance toward you.

“It doesn’t matter! Do you have any idea the torment you’ve caused her over the years? Millie is lucky Olive walked off. Talking to her and approaching her like that unprovoked. Olive was just defending herself. She was minding her own damn business like she always does!”

“Joel, do not raise your-“

“I’ll raise my voice when I damn well want to! You need to hear me and listen: both of your little stunts resulted in Millie going on the roster. She’s Olive’s replacement on my morning patrols now. To ensure she learns just how much of a responsibility it is to protect the settlement and deter her from further disrespect to those that go outside the gates every single day to protect this town.”

“No, no she can’t go outside the walls. She-“ The woman’s hands grappled his arm, desperation making her forget everything else in that moment.

“She will learn that there is more to living in a broken world than hurtful gossip and petty vendettas. Take it up with the council, but they’ve made their decision. Olive is missing. Your daughter is at the infirmary.”

He stalked off, not willing to wait around to hear what other nonsense the woman had to say. He had to find you, You hadn’t gone to his brother’s, which he would’ve thought to be the obvious answer. You hadn’t gone to his, of course maybe you would’ve before this morning. His body aching from sitting on your small stoop waiting for your return only to go there for a moment to find it dark and empty. The winds whipped around him, snow blinding and chilling when flakes got stuck on his eyelashes and in his scruff.  

He needed to tell you. He needed to tell you that he’d pick you over everyone in the whole damn settlement if you’d have him. But first he needed to make sure you were okay in order to do that.

Everything was so fuzzy, the edges of your vision fading. The bright snow all around the streets, falling from the sky, it hurt to look at. It hurt to keep your eyes open, but you did as best you could as you clutched to your bleeding middle and stumbled down empty streets. Blood was warm between your fingers, against your palm. The stitches put in place a few days ago now pulled from your skin and tearing even more damage across the wound there.

It wasn’t cold anymore, not by the time you had made it through the creaking iron gate and settled in front of a headstone. Everything was numb and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as you realized.

The look of shock on Millie’s face shouldn’t be funny, it was sad. That no one had ever given her a taste of her own medicine. You didn’t hold anything against her, it wasn’t in your nature. But you wouldn’t say you liked her, that part of you had died along with Aiden. You had tried to continue to be her friend after everything, that fateful patrol. But she had pushed you away, had been quiet and reserved in her grief.

Until she hadn’t. She had shifted to harsh glares and sharp words. Basically heading the town to lay the blame on you. Her mother dutifully at her side. But you didn’t fault them. You knew loss was hard long before they had. You knew that it twisted people up inside and made it hard to feel okay. But you had never taken it out on anyone, instead closing in on yourself. But that had backfired, turned into a spectacle at the bar amid most of the town’s older occupants. Entertainment for them. More ammo for gossip and hurtful words.

In trying to ignore them, you had made it worse. Of course you had.

You lay slumped against the headstone, consciousness wavering as the wind pressed you into it. The snow began to settle over your legs and in your loose hair. Hat and scarf left behind in your rush to get out of that damn bar. You don’t know how long you laid there, pressing your face into the headstone, tears falling from your eyes and stinging as they froze on your cheeks, on your lashes, around your puffy eyes. Coughing, you felt the warmth of a thick liquid and taste of metal as blood splattered over the name etched into the stone.

You were tired, exhausted. Your body no longer hurt and it was a relief to be without the low thrum of anxiety, the smoldering heartbreak in the shape of broad man weighing down your chest, the ache in your hands from hours of chopping and stirring and mixing, the swelling in your legs from standing for hours everyday to prepare meals for people who couldn’t care less about you. It was all gone and it was a relief.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but they were so heavy. Unseeing when you managed to, it was so dark around you. There was no way it should be that dark in the late hour with the snow blanketing the town and the sky swathed in snow clouds. But it was and it didn’t bother you. You didn’t want to see anything anyway. Not when you closed your eyes against the darkness, you saw a soft smile tugging at plush lips that had felt good against your own below a pair of sparkling brown eyes. You saw Joel Miller and that was good enough.

You weren’t aware of the darkness being a shadow falling over you, a body dropping to its knees as it spotted you on the ground. You weren’t aware of the shout of your name, your actual name, nothing breaking the unconsciousness you had succumbed to. Joel was frantic, his hands hovering over you as he worried touching you would cause more damage. The blood shining on dark on your lips, the sallow complexion of your skin, the hand that had been pressing to your stained and wet middle limp in your lap. All of it was too much and his heart felt like it was humming in his chest as it beat in time with memories of loss and pain flashing before his eyes.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t lose you too. Not now, not like this.

Ignoring his worry, pushing it down, he scooped you up into his arms. The fact that you didn’t startle awake or shout out in pain at the movement didn’t sit well with him, his stomach dropped and his head pounded as he realized how cold you were to the touch, how limp you were. He gritted his teeth against the biting wind, the snow flying all around and began to move through the headstones.

“I made you one.” He croaked. “I made them all for you. All of them, every single one” His hands were warm, cradling you close, trying to tamp down the bleeding from your middle as he walked. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.”

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers by @/saradika-graphics || taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

@part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel

@blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Right... I just have so much love for all of you and the support I've been getting on this... mind blowing! I hope y'all will enjoy this!😭✨🤍

warnings: cursing, mental health struggles, puking and angst just the same sweet angst.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Carmen knew something was off. The moment you stepped out of the office. You were there, but your mind was elsewhere. You looked almost dazed. Fighting some battles Carmen didn't know of. So even if the heat of the kitchen was burning all around him, Carmy stopped. Striding away from his spot as he crosses the distance between the two of you. You flinched only when his fingers were slowly creeping against your upper arm. "You okay? Are you good?", he asked through the clicks of the pots.

Yet what brought all of the oxygen out of Carmy was the way you looked up at him. It was a look he had never seen on your face. Never directly at him. There was no way he could even describe that look. Sadness? Yet it didn't seem deep enough. Anger? The flames were barely sparkling. Disappointment? It looked more like a never-ending orb of nothingness. You were looking at him, but you might as well be looking through him, behind him.

"Darling", Carmen breathed, and you swallowed quickly, nodding your head. "Well, well. Where do you need me?" The tone of your voice nearly chilled Carmen's blood. Once again, there were no emotions that twisted through it. And that scared him because he did not know what was going on. And he wished he knew, "Are you sure?", he asked softly, moving to touch your face, but you slipped past his fingers. Humming as you step deeper into the kitchen, Carmy bit down on the frustration that suddenly blossomed within him. Trying to keep it down. At bey. To put a leash on it so it wouldn't come out clacking its teeth at you.

He turns back to you, calling out your name once more. The moment your eyes are on him, Carmen rubs his fist over the left side of his chest. Do the same thing, he begs in his mind; do the same thing. Calm down my mind. Tell me this is something we'll talk about in the privacy of our home. You watched the gesture. Watched. Nodded your head a couple of times, but the nods didn't even look like a nod of agreement. Just a look at something. Someone who wasn't fully there.

Maybe it was stupid that you didn't just address it. You knew you should have. Isn't that what grownups do? Get to the root of the problem and solve it. They don't run away from it. But you couldn't. A twisted part of you wanted to wait for Carmy to say it himself. Bring whoever Claire was himself. You had watched him pick up his phone during family. Fork still in your hands. You had left the messages open. It would have been the first thing he saw when he opened it. You waited for him to get uncomfortable. Frown maybe. Stager at the sight of it, but he didn't. Instead, a light smile softened his features. A fucking smile. The only person you'd seen him smile at was you. No one had received a single smile here in New York from Carmy. And here your form of reality was being crushed right in front of your eyes as you watched him eagerly type the reply.

Now you're here. In your bed. With what you now struggle to pinpoint as your boyfriend sprawled beside you, hand over your stomach, light snores leaving his mouth. You knew you could have. The phone was right there. You could unlock it. See what Carmy had to say in reply, but you couldn't bring yourself to. From the very start, trust was something you valued. Both of you did, or at least you thought you did. You both were the victims of late nights and schedules that overlapped. You had tried putting up a spreadsheet of your work and class times so you could cross over the free slots. Did it work? No, but you two had laughed over it at four am while eating shit gas station ice cream cones Carmy had bought.

"Do you believe in happily ever afters?", your head was hanging off the side of the couch, and your legs were up against the back cushions. Carmy was twisting a bottle of beer in his hand. This conversation was so random. You two had just started exploring the beginnings of the feelings blossoming within your chests. Here is the tiniest living room in New York at odd hours because that's how life was back then. "No", he said almost immediately, making you turn your head towards him. "Why not?", Carmy chuckled nervously, "There's no such thing as never-ending happiness". You had struck up a big fight there about that with him. "But would you want that? An ending like that?", you were ready to agree to disagree. Tiredness was already making you delusional. Carmy halted his answer here and took the last sip from his bottle before saying, "I think people are selfish. They want to have things constantly, but they never hold onto them in the end".

You wished you had let those words sink into you back then. Let the weight of them press into you. Because you had brushed it off way too soon. But that was the first and only time you had gotten so close. Truly get to the core of Carmy. Fuck sex. It brought bodies together. Minds too, if the bodies were truly in sync. But you can have sex with someone without even knowing them fully. The bliss of it all covered up the voids of the unknown.

Always have, but never hold. The words spun and spun in your head. Who was this man lying beside you? Did you know him? How long has he been seeing someone else? Was he even doing that, or were you being paranoid? You looked down at his sleepy face, so calm and without a single frowning line. Your fingers mindlessly ran over the scars and little freckles on his face. All these little, tiny details that had imprinted themselves in your brain. That you remembered in the back of your head. That you would remember even if he changed his mind and started loving someone else.

Bile rose in your throat, and you tried to breathe through it. But the thoughts kept on coming, snapping at the sides of your mind. Over and over and over and over and over. Bringing waves of nausea. And then it overflowed. You reached for the blanket, ripping Carmy's hand off your body as you rushed towards the bathroom. The dinner came right up, or at least the total of two bites you had managed to swallow, even if Sydney was nudging your side playfully, trying to lighten the mood and get you to eat something more. Then the acid rose next. Making the gagging more unbearable. You felt hands pulling your hair away from your face, and you jumped at the sensation. You knew it was Carmy, and it only made the tears that much more painful.

"Breathe through it; try not to gag aimlessly", Carmy's voice was soft, tired but soft, as he ran his hand up and down your back. "Do you still feel like throwing up?", he asked after flushing the water. Your body felt clammy. Cold but on fire at the same time. Your forehead was pressed into the side of the toilet seat as you tried to breathe. Tried to get the nausea away, yet moved to gag once more. But your mind was singing the same tune over and over. I'm so glad I got to see you again. I miss your silly face already. Your body trembled; the cold bathroom tiles soothed the nausea, yet your bones were catering from within, it seemed. Carmen didn't rush you, and for that, we're thankful. One more jab and you might just break.

Carmen was worried. He got woken up by your sharp movements, and the moment the gagging filled the quiet space, he was up. He wondered if your offbeat mood the whole evening was just the beginning of what was happening now. Maybe you were feeling off. Maybe there was something wrong with the food he gave you. But fuck, what if he poisoned everyone who ate? What if people, the customers, will be piling outside the restaurant tomorrow morning with papers in their hands, wanting to file reports? What if they sue him? Carmy would lose the last thing that tied him to Mikey. He couldn't. No, but what if... Another gag pulled Carmy out and back to the present.

"Do you want some water?", he leaned in to take a better look at your face, which was covered in beads of cold sweat. You shook your head, but Carmy still filled one up, "Wash your mouth at least; it'll feel better". You pulled yourself away from the toilet, palms pressed to the cold ground. Carmy pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder, watching you. His gaze burned your skin and face, but you didn't have it in you to say anything about it. Your head lulled back, and Carmy quickly moved behind you, catching it on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Do you think... should I get a doctor?", his tone sounded so much more panicked now as he ran his fingers over your skin. Things like this frightened him; you know about that. He was scared that any form of illness was going to take away the last and maybe only thing he truly cared about. But you shook your head.

You didn't have it in you. You could explain. Tell him it was panic and anxiety that had dragged you here, but you couldn't bring yourself to it. "No..", you whispered just as another sob slipped past your lips, and your hand instantly came to rest on Carmy's. "Just... hold me", you blurt out, breaking completely after that. All the nerves flowed freely down your cheeks alongside your tears. "Hold me, Carmy", and he did. And it's selfish. It's wrong, but you curl into him. Wrapping your whole body all around him. Clinging to him like a child. Letting his heat pour into you. Welcoming it. Trying to take handfuls of it in case he decides to take it away eventually. Rob you of the only happiness you had.

The days after that were a blur. You didn't leave the bed, and Carmy once again says nothing. He did slip back home early, sometimes even making midday stops. Bringing food that you rarely touched. Going as far as bringing home flowers, something he hadn't done since the first weeks of you two being together. You wondered if he ever noticed that you always kept and dried some of the petals from the bouquets that he gifted you. Now you just stared at the delicate, barely blooming things on the kitchen table while they stared at you. Until it got too heavy. Too real, and you dragged yourself back to the bedroom.

It had been close to a week when you found yourself walking the same old streets leading to the restaurant. The numbness had subsided. You managed a basic conversation with Carmen without bursting into tears. That was enough for the guilt of not doing enough in the restaurant and not helping Carmy grow. So after an hour-long shower, you quickly pulled your hair into a messy bun, threw some old baggy jeans on, pulled one of the older Carmy's hoodies on, and headed out.

"Get out of my way", Sydney's voice rang out even through the chaos of the kitchen assembly. A shiver ran through your body. What a hellhole this was if it had turned that girl into a shouting mess within days. "Fuck off, leave me alone", she barked, and you quickly stepped forward. Raising a warning finger at Tina, who was about to speak up. "Are you sure?", Marcus's gentle voice filled your ears. "I'm fucking sure! You ask Carmy if he was sure. You don't", the full force of Sydney's voice sent ripples through the place. What had happened here to make everyone so on edge? "So stick to your shit", she spat back at Marcus, who stood dead silent there.

You loved the guy. He was as sweet as a honey bun. Not a single bad bone in his body. So you gently rested your hand on his back, running it up and down in a comfortable manner. His eyes fell on you, and like a wave of relief, a wave of ease flowed through them. "Y/N", he muttered as you smiled at him softly, letting him wrap you up in a side hug for a moment. "Step out, chef", you murmured, patting his chest. "I'll take it from here", Marcus only nodded, giving Sydney one more apologetic look before slipping out of the freezer.

When the doors were barely open, you turned back to Sydney, who was standing there looking as on edge as you had felt all of this time. You reached your hands towards her. "Come here", you mumbled, inviting her into your embrace. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, shaking her head no. But you still stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her gently, and her frozen figure instantly let up. "Fuck, shit, I'm sorry", she muttered as a couple of tears fell from her eyes. "Yeah, not a big deal. Breathe for a minute, mhm?", you said softly, giving her time to feel it out. Give her enough breathing space. "This place sucks ass", she sighed, her head resting on your shoulder. "Tell me about it", you breathed out with a light chuckle.

"Fuck Carmy too, and I'm sorry, but fuck him", the amazement in her voice you had heard before when she talked of him was long gone. "He put so much shit on, wants me to do so much, but then.. then he takes off running", pulling away, Sydney runs her hands over her face in frustration. Then she stops, looking at you for a moment, and says, "I thought he was running to you, so I...", she must have seen the expression on your face because Sydney's voice died down, and she just nodded her head. You lowered your eyes to the floor. Ran off. Claire, no doubt. In a rush. Probably all excited. Probably even glad that you weren't around here much.

"You look like shit,", Sydney breathed out, "Sorry, but...", she shook her head, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "No, no, I saw myself in the mirror before I left. I know I look amazing", you air-quoted the last word, and Sydney snickered alongside you. You sat there for some time. Just letting the rare moment of silence surround you. "You don't let them kill your spark; you hear me", you said, turning to Sydney and gently tapping her thigh, "Throw shit back at them, but don't let them take away what you love most". Her eyes watched you, just like the first time you told her that you were proud of her. Just this time she leaned over, embracing you in another hug before muttering, "You don't know how much this means to me". But you knew. Because you knew how much it meant to you and how many times you hoped that someone would say those same words to you. But just like St. Frances's prayer went, Where there is darkness, let me be light.

"I'll be back as soon as possible", Carmy's voice rang through your apartment as he was getting ready to leave. He had opted for one of the later mornings. Drank coffee with you and ate at the same table. "I want to go to that market with you", he said while putting on the shirt. "We can", you muttered back, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. "Stop by to eat before we go", Carmy stepped closer to you, hands resting on your hips as he looked at you.

"We'll get through this", he muttered, leaning against you. "I love you; take care of yourself today", he said, cupping your face in his hands. Carmy pressed a kiss on your forehead. Your hands sneaked beneath his shirt, fingers dancing on his naked skin, which was always way warmer than yours. You hesitated for a moment. Not sure if your decision was the right one. "Can we talk tonight? I want to talk about this. What's going on", your voice was barely a whisper, but from the way Carmy's eyes glistened, you knew that he heard you just fine. He smiled softly at you, kissing your forehead once more before bringing you closer to his embrace. "We'll talk later," he said, "Talk about it all if you want". You followed him to the door, holding onto his hand until Carmy had stepped far enough away from you, his fingers slipping through yours. "Be more gentle with them today", you called after him. Carmy looked up from the staircase and said, "Heard, chef".

You had found joy in cleaning the space for the time. Going as far as unpacking all the kitchen stuff from the boxes. A light smile on your face as you slowly filled out the empty shelves and drawers, sorting everything out just like you knew that Carmy was going to love it. Maybe that's another part of what's been missing—this sense of stability and belonging. You never wanted to stay in New York for long; sure, Carmy was doing wonders there, but you had hoped that you two would move to a smaller, less crowded city after you were done with your studies. Finally, start something new for yourself. Life sure altered those plans, but you also helped it get worse. Those boxes could have easily been unlocked weeks ago. You just mentally told yourself not to.

You had just finished cutting up the empty boxes when the doorbell rang. Strange, you thought as you looked at the clock. It was way too early for Carmy to be home, and you weren't even supposed to meet here. Maybe he left his keys and wallet? Something for the restaurant? You dropped the box cutter to the side, getting up quickly and paddling towards the door. "What did you...", but your voice died down almost as soon as it started. You blinked a couple of times, "How can I help you?".

The girl shifted awkwardly, backing away so she could look at the number above the door before she took a second glance at you. "I'm looking for Carmen", she said, a smile spreading across her face. "I think this is the right apparent, but... He never said someone lived with him". You clenched the door handle in your hand so hard that your knuckles turned white. "Let me guess, Claire?". you said through gritted teeth. She smiled so brightly that, for a split second, the urge to punch her was burning bright within you.

"Same old, can I come in?", she pointed to the still somewhat ajar door, "I can just wait for him inside; I won't bother you". You clenched your jaw. You weren't even sure what you were thinking. If she knew where he lived. If he had told her that. Was he hoping you would get out of the apartment sooner to do your daily walk to the local gallery and he could just be here with her? "Of course, make yourself at home", you yanked the door open, moving to the side.

"So you two are roommates?", she asked so innocently, making you let out a chuckle as you watched her move around the place. "Yeah, it might be just that", you said bluntly, still unsure of what to do next. "And you two? How do you know him?", you asked after a while, your tone more than bitter. Her face softens as she sits down on the little, run-down sofa. "Childhood sweethearts, been Claire Bear ever since", she chimed, and you could swear you heard your heart breaking. A nickname. He had even given her a nickname. And she must have been his first, meaning that all you two had... Everything Carmy said was just between you and he was a lie. You blinked quickly a couple of times.

"How sweet...", you muttered, turning away from her, as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, but you quickly wiped them off. "You know...", you said, turning back to her. Letting yourself glance at how stunning she was. "Good you're here; I was just moving out and had to run", you blurt out. "I'll leave you here with the keys if you don't mind", plastering the fakest smile, you watched her nod before you darted towards your bedroom. Yanking the first box in front of you open, shoving random stuff into your bag. Kicking random stuff out of your way. You wanted to scream about how stupid you were. Was that why Richie hated you? He must know about her. All of them. All of his family. Maybe they even think they are together, and then who were you, some random bimbo showing up uninvited?

You thought about just walking out like that. You didn't own any of them anything. Especially not her, but you still halted, "Do tell Carm that I'm proud of him; he did a good job", and with that, you slipped out. Rushing down the stairs.

You barely saw where you were going through the tears that were now flowing freely down your cheeks. Was taking the car a bad idea? Yes, but you needed to get as far away from all of this. Another person honked at you, making you swirl the steering wheel in the opposite direction. You weren't thinking straight; you knew that. Equally, as much as you know that you shouldn't be driving now. You weren't even sure if you could stop where you did, but you were beyond caring. Quickly shuffling through your bag, you reached for your phone. You wiped your eyes messily as you tried to find the right caller id.

There was no one here. You didn't have a family here. There were no friends you could crash at. This wasn't your city. You should have never come here in the first place. "Bunny, bunny, bunny", the smooth voice quickly replaced the calling sound, and you clapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sob from slipping through your lips. "Long time no call. I was starting to think you had forgotten about me", it called out, you shook your head even if no one could see it. Your insides felt like they were going to explode. The line went silent. You tried to speak up, but you just couldn't get a single sound to escape your throat. "Bun?", it called out again, much more concerned this time. Just how you wished someone would have been considered for you ever since. That broke the last string within you, making you let out such a heartbreaking sob that you felt sorry for yourself at the moment. You just cried there until you could finally pull yourself together enough to mutter, "Luca".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld

[etherrreal]

"an ode to tendou's hands"

Pairing: tendou x fem!reader Genre: fluff, slight nsfw Summary: you want to be normal about your boyfriend, but how can you when he's flaunting his hands everywhere WC: 2,138 Warnings: references to you gushing, reader’s got enough hair to stick a hand in lol, reader wears a sundress A/N: dipping my toes further and further into nsfw so that maybe someday my ass will write some full-blown nsfw for y'all -Luna

When you hear people gush about their partners, they often talk about how kind they are when they bring them their favorite candy bar or buy their favorite smoothie "just because." Maybe how caring they are as they tuck them in when they're sick or detangle their hair for them in the shower. It’s always the little things that they do for them that matter the most. 

The few times they bring up their appearance, it's always the common stuff. Their hair is so fluffy and smooth, maybe their eyes are piercing, yet soft only for them. You hear them describe how their arms are so built that it makes them drool. Or they—and you’re specifically talking about your friend Eri—describe their significant other’s thigh muscles with such strange detail and precision that you’re left floating in a space between understanding and deep worry. 

But even their odd infatuations with their partner's features never compare to yours, because even when Eri gets going on her weird tangents about her boyfriend’s thighs and how she’d like for them to crush her skull like a watermelon, your other friends nod and laugh along. You’ve tested your answer on a crowd before and all you got was the loudest silence you’ve ever heard followed by someone too many moments later saying, “what?” They just didn’t get it.

You've always been embarrassed to share your real answer with your closest friends, not because they’d make you feel like a freak (derogatory), but because they’ll make you feel like a weirdo (affectionate). And while Eri can take the casual ribbing, you’re not so sure you have a thick enough skin to be able to last a quarter as long as she has. So you've settled with picking something a little more normal, like gushing about how, although your boyfriend Tendou is lean, he’s much stronger than he looks. 

They don't have to know that the real answer has you gushing elsewhere, though.

Tendou’s hands.

Two palms. Ten fingers—two of which are thumbs. Fourteen knuckles. 

They’re long. They’re slender. They reach places you can never reach with your own, like the bottom of the Pringles can.

Unlike a boyfriend’s thighs or abs, hands aren’t hidden in everyday life behind some piece of fabric. They’re constantly touching you or things around you which makes it nearly impossible to keep your focus. In previous relationships, or even in everyday life, a person’s hands didn’t catch your attention as they do now. But when you started dating Tendou, it was like a sleeper agent activated. 

The first time you took notice of his hands was at the end of your second date, after he walked you home. You both lingered in front of your apartment door, not quite ready to say goodbye to one another. He decided to take a risk, using his hand to brush some hair behind your ear—although, you’re pretty sure it wasn’t out of place to begin with—then letting his fingers trail down your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. His hand then came back up to cup your cheek, and it dawned on you that, with the way his hand stretched, he could palm your whole head like a volleyball based on length alone.

Then he sealed the deal by leaning down, his lips hovering just a hair over yours, and whispering, “Do you mind if I kiss you?” 

What always amazes you when you replay that moment in your mind is you hardly remember the kiss itself, but what you do remember is what it felt like to have his hand slip into your hair and grasp it at the roots in his excitement. How his other hand slid around your waist to pull you against his chest, fingers playing with the edge of your crop top and barely brushing against your bare skin. You had goosebumps from head to toe, leaving you with no choice but to lean on him to keep yourself upright. You were smitten from that day forward and would do anything to get him to touch you again like he did that day.

You're about 98% sure that Tendou has never noticed your infatuation—not once—because you're just that smooth. Like a fucking ninja. There's no other word to describe your actions besides subtle.

Except, if you asked Tendou, you're not even close. In fact, in his eyes, you're about as subtle as a gun.

Tendou lets you think you are because he enjoys seeing your poor attempts at hiding your obsession. The truth is he's noticed every single time your eyes drift from his face to his flailing hands as he tells you a story then snap back to his face once you feel like you've been distracted for too long. Or, when you decide to keep him company while he's testing new chocolate recipes and techniques in the kitchen, and, instead of ooh-ing and aah-ing as he pipes an intricate design on a truffle, you're more occupied with staring at his mouth as he licks the smeared chocolate on his fingertips.

God forbid he offers you a taste of chocolate he swipes from the edge of a bowl with his pointer finger—then he's the one who has to control himself when he notices your eyes gently flutter as you lick it off, the tip of your tongue flicking his fingertip. 

He doesn't really understand it, and initially, he took your distracted gaze as disinterest. He was afraid he was boring you when he was going off on tangents or when he suggested you sit by as a taste tester in the kitchen. But he soon caught on when he noticed that your eyes weren’t glazed over in boredom and staring forward with no focus at all. He could see them following his hands like a hawk, taking in every bend, twitch, or grasp. And while he did notice them glaze over occasionally, he had a feeling it wasn’t because you were bored. 

Tendou's been trying to find the right time to bring it up. He doesn't want you to think he's making fun of you or that you should be ashamed of your little fixation. Since he’s first noticed, he’s been trying to hint to you that he knows; brushing an imaginary eyelash off of your cheek, cupping your face whenever he gets the chance, trailing his fingers up your arm whenever he peers over your shoulder to look at what you're cooking. 

He’s not sure if it’s working or if it's had the opposite effect, but he has been enjoying watching you squirm in the meantime.

Then it all culminates one weekend in August.

He suggests taking a trip to Barcelona after a colleague of his recommended a little chocolate shop there that he’s been dying to try. With about an 8-hour drive from where you live, you suggest you make it a little vacation, taking off that Friday and Monday to properly enjoy it all.

The trip starts off as all of your trips do. Tendou decides to drive so you play DJ, quizzing him on certain songs and annoying him with others. You feed him some snacks so he can keep an eye on the road, purposefully playing "here comes the airplane" until he bites your fingertip like an overzealous toddler.

It dies off about 2 hours into the trip after you get back in the car from a short gas station trip. You play a more relaxed playlist, filled with instrumentals and some ballads. The only chatter from both of you is when either of you comments on the view. Otherwise, it's a comfortable silence, leaning your head on the window and watching the trees and other cars fly by. 

Your peace is disturbed when you feel Tendou’s hand slide onto your knee, giving what’s supposed to be a comforting squeeze, but feels more like a jolt to your system. Unintentionally, you jump in your seat, trying to play it off like you’re shifting to be more comfortable, but he notices. 

“You okay, baby?” Tendou asks, with a smirk you don’t see because you can’t meet his eyes. Let’s see you try to get yourself out of this one.

“Yeah, uh, your hands were just cold.”

“Oops. My bad, honey.” He squeezes your knee again as he says it, and you can only hope he doesn’t notice that you tense up. “They’ll get warm soon enough, I’m sure.”

You shoot him a quick smile, before turning to look out the passenger window, hoping that he doesn’t notice how nervous you actually are. You’re tempted to start bouncing your leg, but you can’t risk him asking any more questions. 

Eventually, you relax enough to rest your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realize that your hand started acting on its own, tracing the veins on the back of his hand and over the pronounced knuckles of his fingers. 

Tendou, of course, notices immediately. “So you like my hands, huh?”

You freeze. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out, you think as you pull your hand towards your chest like it touched an open flame. If there was ever a perfect time for the ground to suddenly open up so it can swallow you whole, this would be it. In fact, you contemplate opening the car door and tucking and rolling onto the highway just to get yourself out of this situation. 

Your diabolical red-headed boyfriend glances over at you a few times during your prolonged silence, before clearing his throat and saying, “I’ve known about your… thing for ages, you know.”

Your panic shoots out of you all at once. “You knew?! When? How!? I’m so lowkey about it!”

“Well, you don’t exactly make it subtle,” he chuckles. “How else would you be able to explain why you either jump out of your skin or completely shut down whenever I touch you? Or when I can't even make eye contact with you during our conversations because you're so focused on my hands?"

"...Trauma and social awkwardness?"

Tendou shoots you an incredulous look before returning his eyes to the road. “First of all, if it was trauma, we probably would’ve talked about it during the years we’ve been together. Second, you? Socially awkward with me? You’re the one who has no problem pooping while I’m showering, so there’s no way.” 

Your mouth opens and shuts repeatedly, failing to produce a good enough excuse. Instead, you turn your head far enough that you can’t see him from the corner of your eye anymore, but you sure can hear him cackle because of his effect on you.

You still refuse to make eye contact when you feel his hand trail up your thigh, barely making it to the hem of your dress before making his way back down to your knees, his fingers leaving trails of heat in its wake.

“What do you like about them, hm?” His fingers trail back up, playing with the hem of your dress and inching it higher. “Is it how long my fingers are? How gentle they are when they caress the skin of your thigh? Probably giving you goosebumps, huh?” 

And they absolutely are, along with a shudder up your spine with how low his voice has dropped. 

“Or maybe how talented they are, like when they curl just right?” His hand finally dips under the fabric, brushing his pinky against the edge of your panties. "Oooh, no safety shorts today? How risque! What are you preparing for, honey?"

"Nothing, I just—”, you take in a shakey breath as you feel his pinky play with the edge of the lace,”—didn't want to sweat with the extra layer."

"That's what the AC is for, honey. Are ya sure there's no other reason?"

"No. I mean, yes, or—wait. Fuck." Your head feels like it’s full of cotton, your mouth too dry to speak. Your eyes are unable to focus on anything at the moment, the leg he’s not touching restlessly bouncing. You glance over at the time displayed on your phone that’s mounted to the dashboard and calculate that you’ve got about 4 hours left before you reach your destination, and that’s when you realize that you can’t wait until you reach your hotel.

You need him. Now.

“Can you— Over there— Just—” You stumble over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence as you point frantically over to the side of the highway.

“You want me to pull over onto the shoulder?” He says smugly, not even sparing you a glance.

“God, yes, please.” 

He steers the car abruptly to the right, and you’re in his lap before he can even properly put the car in park, hands all over each other.

Written by: Luna you've got an @; we've got a taglist~

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 7

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

If I see this necklace on Charles later, *dragging finger across throat*

There is a barrier between y'all, so I'm hoping one of you has decided to come to your senses and tell the truth to Alan and Babe. Jeffrey is seeing accidents, so Jeffrey, hopefully you are seeing the light of truth too and will confess to Alan!

I like you, Way. I like you too much knowing damn well that you are lying, but you don't seem as red as before. It looks a little hot pink-ish now. Maybe because you're sad that Babe doesn't love you.

Get hit with the blinding light of love for this Blue Boy sitting next to you who has apparently been in love with you for years according to that pink from the last episode.

Peter, I TRUST YOU! Don't do me like this! This is pink, right? RIGHT? It's pink. You're in love with Waymond, and this is pink, not red. Pink.

I'm ignoring the Gucci red watchband because the way Peter is looking at Waymond and the fact that he put blue on Waymond is all I need to know that Peter sits at the same table with Kimberly, Kenta, and Alan as the people I trust.

How long have you been in love with him, Pete? The pink already snitched on you. Just tell me! Or did you leave it on the note? That'd be too easy. But that note better have said "Hey, I just 'met' you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe?" I ship it!

Kimberly! You've been a lot less red lately. The blues are gonna need a driver soon if Jeffrey's vision is right. You should apply!

KENTA IS RIGHT THERE, KIMBERLY! Lose focus and have a consensual workplace relationship.

Wait a minute? It's Decanus and . . . there's only one man who consistently wears black, but I refuse to believe that he would meet with Decanus. No. That's another man in black. I cannot see the faces clearly, so I will not accuse *sobs* Kenta.

These two are best friends. I can tell.

AHHHH! Charles is meeting with Big Red, yet he is wearing blue! Is he being kidnapped? No. He just walked away. But now he is surrounded by blue. Charles!!!!! I know you are lying, but the blue is saying . . . something! But Big Red is listening.

Oh thank, God! Way is turning over a new leaf and committing to being a blue boy. Good.

No. NO! Barbara, I know you are upset at Charles for lying (which your super spidey senses should have alerted you about because the red was there), but why do you keep doing this to Way? He was committed to the blue! Pete likes him. Stop!

NO, WAYMOND, NO! JUST LET BABE BE SAD AND MISERABLE. DON'T DO IT!

Tell him to get his hands off of you, Barbie! That's how they keep getting you! Do not fall for his bullshit!

Is this story about Charlie?! OH SHIT! *telenovela fall to the floor*

I don't want you to get slapped, Kentana, but there is only one man who wears black consistently, and that's you. You ARE planning something with Decanus, aren't you?! Do. Not. Hurt. Barbie. I trust you!

Oh shit! Barbie is realizing it's the touches! I tried to warn you, homie. I did. I said, "Barbie, don't let them touch you!" Now, figure out that Waymond keeps touching you too. Don't get dickmatized again. I need you to stay focused! BARBIE, FOCUS! Waymond. Superpowers. Punch them!

Barbara, the dick is not that good for you to forgive him already! Barbara, I'm so mad at you right now. I'm only rooting for Kimberly and Alan now. You and Kentana are on my shit list.

Did the note from Peter ask for a date?! Waymond, horrible choice of red roses with a red ribbon for a date with Peter or . . . is this your villain era? No! This is a date with Peter! *dances happily*

I mean this from the depth of my soul - Whatever happens now, you're on your own, Barbara. You figured out what Charles was doing to you, and you are just cool with it? I know he, too, had a crappy childhood, but he did all that without your consent, and you're okay with it? The red is still there! He just took from you something you can't get back, without your consent. This is metaphorical, and I wish you, a fictional character, could see that.

Did Peter really not show up for y'alls date?! Did something happen to Pete?! WHERE IS HE?! Did Big Red kidnap him?! Wait, Peter can text but not show up for a date? I don't believe it.

I'm gonna break my own rule, and translate the text messages because I have no colors to guide me, and I'm very confused why Peter would not show up when he has been in love with Waymond for awhile. The colors don't lie. Peter would show up!

Google Translate: "Sorry, I just finished clearing things up with Charlie" Wait a minute. Charlie? Was Waymond texting Babe because he was sad Peter didn't show up for dinner? This still doesn't make sense.

Or . . . Waymond's at his and Babe's restaurant, and Babe said "sorry." It wasn't a date with Peter was it? This was a date with . . . oh, you have to be shitting me. PETER IS RIGHT THERE IN LOVE WITH YOU, PENDEJO!

I'm in no mood for North and Sonic's color shenanigans. I'm too pissed off to even yell at Sonic for wearing red over the blue. Whatever. Be a back-stabber too. No me importa.

WHAT THE FUCK?! NOT KIMBERLY!

If anything happens to Kimberly, I'm burning down this whole site! He's a good one! Kentana, you better get your shit together and save your man! If Kentana and Barbara save Kimberly, I'll take them off my shit list. Even Charles will get some leeway.

Whiny Winifred, why are you pointing a gun at . . . SONIC AND NORTH?! I know I wrote I didn't care about y'all earlier, but I do! Y'all can't die until I figure out what the deal is with y'alls colors!

Barbara is wearing the same outfit in the previews that he is wearing when he punches people in the hallway!

Mission: Save Kim Possible!

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

HIII i have a request for some platonic HC with Tom x reader who's in love with Bill. This is based off of my dr self :P

Basically reader and Tokio Hotels have known each other for yearssss, but reader met Tom first so they just have some big best friend connection yk ? Then reader has started to crush on Bill and Tom noticed and like would he help reader to confess or.juts tease them a lot interviews and in front of Bill ??

(Hello! Sure I can and I had fun writing this! I hope you enjoy!)

Tom Kaulitz x Bsf!Reader

You've probably known them since y'all were kids

He was the type just to flirt with you for the fun of it

It wasn't anything romantic and shit and you would flirt back and fight non-stop

You both just annoy each other for the hell of it

Most videos are just you drunk, singing on stage, fighting, flirting or anything together

He could be the best friend to have ever or he could be a jackass also a best friend to have

There is no in-between

He could be protective of you when things go wrong but dw because you do the same

He hated when talking about crushes and boyfriends and girlfriends when young

Yeah, he likes women but when he was younger it was different then when you guys grew up

He would playfully yell to a guy in public you were checking them out

Or that you were single

Was playfully trying to hook you up with people but if they took it serious he's like

"Ayo, nevermind let's go!"

He didn't really want you to date because your like his sister with that connection you have

You guys could go to each other for anything and talk about the most jacked up shit

He did a full 360 when he seen you had a crush on Bill

It was probably your behavior around him and Tom was just staring suspiciously

He cornered you after because he noticed you looking at his brother and with a smile that was a bit too suspicious

"Ew, ew, ew. No, (Name), why?!"

That's his reaction you figuring out the crush

Is trying to curl into himself and not break down on the fact his best friend has a crush on his brother!

Twin brother in fact!

He was almost crying into you

"Bitch, no! I could treat you better, whatchu mean?!"

He plays around like that but seriously

What do you mean?!

He was like

"So you are pretty much dating me because he's just another version of me?"

"You guys are two different people, born at the same time, Tom."

Tom is trying to buff out any talk Abt his brother with you

"I was born first so actually, he's just another version. Get your facts straight, hoe."

He calls you shit like that dw, it's more like a brother sister relationship than a friendship

Is mean mugging his brother because he's "stealing" his best friend

Tom feels like choking him but also being happy his little emo brother has a actual shot

Acts like he's your brother and interrogates Bill instead when you guys get together, if you do

"If you hurt her-"

"I'm your brother?! You should be having this conversation with her!"

"I like her better."

He feels his eye twitching when you and Bill touch

When you and Bill sit next to each other in interviews he sits his big behind between you two

Smiles at the camera as you pull like pulling his hair out his scalp

Is constantly teasing you when it comes to your crush on Bill

Bill probably knows and is a victim of the teasing too

He blabbed to Gustav and Georg and they're in on it now

He constantly does that thing were you push your friend towards their crush into them

Tries to get you with Bill passive aggressively while saying he doesn't give a shit

Is secretly rooting for you two so you would be stuck with him forever

In the far away future when you marry Bill and Gustav, you practically married Tom too

Teases you in interviews and literally anywhere

Especially in front of Tom

He finds it just so funny

When you talk to Bill and you laugh, you just turn to see Tom's face and it's just a smirk with him raising his eyebrows at you all weird and shit

Y'know those memes, you'll understand

Please shut him up and get it over with

He probably got so fed up he yelled

"Bill! You fucking idiot, she likes you, you like her! Fuck or get it out so I can live in peace!"

Stuffed you guys in a hotel room and would not let you guys out

He was tired man, you gotta understand

If it worked, he'll always brag fans favorite relationship happens because of him

If it didn't, you always brag the death of Tom Kaulitz was at your hands

[active-mind-15]

I've got some more chronic Akashi brainrot for y'all...

I had re-watched parts of Last Game not too long and I remember the scene after Team Vorpal Swords won when Riko's dad bought a bunch of snacks and drinks for everyone to celebrate. While eating, Midorima asked Akashi (referring to the haphazard way snacks were spread across the table), "Are you sure you're okay with something so sloppy, Akashi?" And Akashi looked at him and said, "What are you talking about? We used to sit around and celebrate like this in middle school all the time."

It really stuck in my head for a reason I kinda mentioned the other day, when I was talking about Akashi's dynamic with Hayama. I won't explain that entire post, but I was mainly discussing how Hayama is touchy with Akashi but Akashi never minds, and the last sentence of my post regarding that was, "Akashi seems to be very unfazed whenever he's manhandled by his Rakuzan teammates which shows that he was never really that uptight about people touching him to begin with and people just assumed he was". This brings me to the main topic of this post: Akashi Seijuro and the assumptions the KNB cast has about his personality.

As I love to point out on this godforsaken app, Akashi has been done dirty by every adult in his life with the exception of his mother. So much of what went wrong in his 3rd year at Teiko was due to high expectations and the idea that Akashi was not allowed to be anything less than perfect at whatever he did, but at the root of all of this are assumptions.

False assumptions that he was able to handle such a heavy workload. False assumptions that he was ready to be captain in his second year. False assumptions that he was coping with stress well. False assumptions that he wasn't already cracking before he even enrolled in Teiko. He was let down so many times by so many people because people assumed he was okay when he wasn't and hadn't been for YEARS.

And I think it's a big reason as to how and why the rest of the Teiko gang unintentionally isolated Akashi back in middle school. They put Akashi on a pedestal and assumed that there was some sort of invisible barrier between him and the rest of the team. In the same way when, during Last Game, Midorima assumed Akashi would stick his nose up at... eating chips and drinking juice with the homies... everyone has this idea that Akashi is more haughty than he actually is? Akashi isn't haughty at all. In fact, the Replace Plus Chapters highlight the fact that he's the complete opposite. This boy saved a baby in one chapter, and as the mother of the baby profusely thanks him, he says "Anyone could have done that." As if he didn't showcase superhuman reaction time and reflexes by pulling a baby out of a runaway stroller coming down a hill at high speed right before the stroller was obliterated by an oncoming truck. 💀

These assumptions make even less sense when Akashi has already shown people how much he doesn't want to be put on a pedestal. Again, back to the scene in Last Game, Midorima assumed Akashi wouldn't be down for the "sloppy" afterparty, but Akashi had to remind Midorima that they'd already done things like that in middle school. Momoi has cute nicknames for every member of the Teiko gang except Akashi, who she refers to simply as "Akashi-kun". Maybe that was her assuming Akashi would never accept being called by a cute nickname. Never mind the fact that he already was being addressed as "Akashicchi" and "Aka-chin" by Kise and Murasakibara, respectively, and then later was being addressed as "Sei-chan" by Mibuchi. And you can't even argue that she didn't want to make Akashi uncomfortable, because Midorima has outwardly expressed before that he didn't wanna be called "Midorin" but Momoi just kept calling him that.

And don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they're shitty friends for doing this. I just think that there was a lack of communication within the Teiko gang, and in an attempt to respect what they assumed were Akashi's boundaries, they unintentionally excluded Akashi from activities that he would absolutely participate in if he had just been given the chance.

This post is long asf so I'll just conclude here, but one of my delusional headcanons for the Teiko gang post-Extra Game is that Akashi becomes more open with them about how he feels and also about wanting to be included in more of their activities, and so he finally gets to experience having a regular hangout with friends like a regular teenager. I just think he deserves that so bad after feeling alone for so many years.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 6)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.9k words

Warnings: Language, mean & jealous Roy (in a good way), evil ex-boyfriend, rough sex, Roy feeling angsty, fingering, some cum play, hickies, Roy being kind of a dom

@agentstarkid brain rot, brain rot, brain rot

A/N: Y'all this has to be THE horniest writing I have ever done 😭

Series Masterlist

“Hey Roy, you going to Belgium?”

Roy furrowed his brows at Isaac as the captain, Jamie, and Sam all looked at him expectantly “Belgium?” he repeated.

Sam nodded. “For the race,” he added, as if Roy should know exactly what he was talking about.

The manager’s deepening frown told the boys that he did not.

Jamie sighed impatiently. “Your girlfriend, Grandad. We’re going to go watch her. She was telling us all about it in Leeds, and then when she was in Richmond, she gave Keeley the tickets and stuff to give Isaac. You’re going, aren’t ya?”

Belgium. Roy’s stomach sank a little as the guys began chattering about their plans, how excited they were to watch the race, the parties they’d been promised. He knew you had another race coming up, but you hadn’t mentioned a word of it to him. Of course, if you’d asked, he’d have gone. The Greyhounds had a bye that weekend, meaning he was completely free to go, to root for you, to share another bottle of scotch in some extravagant hotel suite. It would make sense for you to ask him to go; after all, he was clearly interested in racing, and, more importantly, he was clearly more interested in you. He’d tried not to read too much into the lack of invitation; but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a simple hey, come meet me in Belgium during one of the many texts you’d sent him.

And now, hearing that you’d explicitly excited his team… well fuck.

“Come with us, Roy,” Isaac insisted.

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to play it off. “Dunno. Probably got Phoebe, need to catch up on shit at home-”

Another sigh from Jamie. “Come on, Coach. Just admit you want to see your girlfriend and fuckin’ come with us!”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Roy hadn’t meant for it to come off as a harsh growl, but that’s definitely what came out of his mouth. “Once again, we barely fucking know each other.”

The smirk on Jamie’s face was nothing short of punchable. “Then why d’you text her all the damn time?”

“Do not,” Roy lied.

Of all the players, Sam was one of the last Roy would’ve expected to tease him. “You’re blushing, Roy.”

He rolled his eyes, dying to get out of this conversation. “If I agree to come,” he mumbled. “Will you all shut the fuck up?

The three players looked at each other before breaking into a trio of mischievous grins.

Finally, Isaac opened his mouth. “No promises.”

~

Roy Kent looked good.

Who were you kidding? Roy Kent always looked good. Your mouth was practically watering as you watched him chat with the Greyhounds he stood with in the garage, rolling his eyes at something one of them said.

So, you hadn’t actually invited Roy to come to your race, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping he’d be there. After all, when you’d sent Keeley the tickets for the boys, you’d included an extra one, encouraging Isaac to invite “whoever”. Knowing Jamie had been teasing Roy about you, you knew exactly who they’d be bringing.

Watching his eyes dart around, obviously looking for you, you couldn’t resist the urge to go over and say hi. The two of you had fallen asleep on the phone a couple more times since that phone call, there’d been lots of texts sent back and forth, and Roy was even figuring out how to send selfies. And now he was here, in Belgium, surprising you. Tearing down that wall you’d built around your heart, brick by brick.

Feeling a bit like a teenage girl approaching the most popular boy in school, you turned around, so Roy wouldn’t see the way you tightened the knot of your half-down racing suit and lifted your shirt a smidge to give that little peek of skin. After giving your hair a quick touch, you turned around, ready to put on that confident smirk and go say-

“Hey there.”

Your face completely fell at the sight of that horribly gorgeous smile. “Ian,” you murmured, taking a step back, away from your ex-boyfriend, who you were sure hadn’t been in a paddock in about a year, let alone less than a foot away from you like he was now. “What’re you doing here?”

His smile widened, planting a knot in your stomach. “Here to see you, of course.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, where you could see Roy beginning to turn his head a bit more obviously, growing anxious to see you already. “Well, thanks.”

Thankfully, one of your engineers, familiar with the panicked look that Ian Novak’s beautiful face often inspired, hustled over with some excuse to get you away from the model. As you let yourself be led away, you turned your gaze, finally locking eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his perfect mouth ticked upwards as he offered a small nod in greeting, eyebrows raised playfully. Normally, the sight would have you pressing your thighs together and thinking of all the sinful things you wanted to do with him. Instead, you looked away from those brown eyes as quickly as you could.

Fuck. Roy Kent could hurt you, couldn’t he? If Ian Novak, devilish man he was, could manage to make you feel adored and comfortable enough that the heartbreak he gifted you was the most devastating pain you could imagine, what was Roy Kent, with his soft brown eyes and half smiles and hands that both excited and cherished you, capable of? How shattered would you be if he decided he was done with you?

Maybe you didn’t want to find out.

~

For the millionth time that weekend, Roy wondered what he’d done wrong. All he’d received from you was a quick hello when the guys insisted on going to say hey to you. No flirting. No bedroom eyes. No electric touches. And definitely no teasing implications about ending up in bed together.

Not exactly what he’d expected.

He kept trying to catch your eye when the two of you were in the same room, but you kept looking away every time he succeeded. This wasn’t the behavior of someone excited to see him, and especially not the behavior of someone looking forward to sleeping with him.

As he lost track of his beers and contemplated leaving the party being held to celebrate your win, he saw Jamie perk up, his eyes flickering between Roy and somewhere behind him. Before Jamie could give him a warning, Roy turned around.

It was like someone’d punched him and knocked the fucking wind out of him. There you were, stunning in a Ferrari-red dress and matching lipstick, looking up at some disgustingly pretty man, who gazed at you like, well, like how Roy looked at you. He turned back to Jamie, immediately hating the pitiful look on the striker’s face.

“That’s her ex-boyfriend,” Jamie murmured, taking a sip of his own beer. “Model.”

“The one that fucking cheated on her?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “For ‘barely know each other’ you sure know a good bit about her, Roy. Maybe-”

Roy scowled. “Keeley talks too much,” he mumbled before taking a long swig of his beer. He looked over his shoulder again; that man’s hand was on your lower back, where Roy’s hand should have been. “Looks like a prick,” he huffed.

“Oh, he definitely is,” Jamie agreed. “And that’s me saying that. Not sure why she’d give him the time of day.” He punched Roy’s arm playfully. “Especially with Roy Kent in the room.”

After rolling his eyes at Jamie’s compliment, Roy nodded towards the door that led to the hallway connecting the venue to the rest of the hotel. “Going to get some air,” he muttered, ignoring the protests of his players.

Because he was so busy skulking off, Roy missed watching you with your ex.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, shoving Ian’s hand off of your waist. “In case you’ve forgotten, we broke up, remember?”

His lopsided smile was too familiar. “Just congratulating you on a job well done. You were great today, babe.”

Babe. When Roy Kent called you that, it’d made your heart- and something else- flutter. But when Ian Novak called you that, it made your blood run cold. You reached out and pushed him further away.

“I’m not your babe.”

Slipping away from the embrace he tried, you briskly left the party venue, eyes stinging as you made your way to the deserted hallway. Who cared if you’d won and were the guest of honor? All you wanted was to get up to your room, get out of this dress, put on-

Roy’s eyes locked onto yours. He was in that same hallway, leaning against a wall and looking like the dictionary definition of melancholy. His stupid old heart nearly stopped at the sight of you, then twisted when he saw all the hurt your eyes carried. He pushed himself up off the wall as you got closer, your hands fidgeting; he wasn’t used to seeing you so… gloomy.

“’s wrong with you?” he muttered once you were standing in front of him. “Boyfriend problems?”

Your frown deepened. “Boyfriend…?” It dawned on you. “Oh, fuck. Ian.”

Roy nodded, his eyes practically made of steel. “Yeah. Ian,” he spat. “What, you get sick of him already?” He knew he sounded jealous and resentful, two things he wasn’t sure he had the right to be. But he didn’t care; not when he’d come all this way just to see you with some other prick.

“Listen,” you sighed. “Roy-”

He shook his head, not caring if you saw the hurt and anger in his eyes. “No. It’s fine. I fucking get it.” He gulped. “He’s a model. His knees probably fucking work. Probably even knows how to smile.” He cleared his throat. “Stupid, coming to fucking Belgium,” he mumbled. “You didn’t even fucking want me here.”

“I did,” you yelped, probably quicker and louder than you should have. “I mean, I do. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Funny way of showing it,” he grunted, not letting you see the way your words had his heart hammering. No, Roy was still pissed. “Ignoring me all fucking weekend.”

You nodded, face aflame. “Yeah. No, that’s true.” You took a tentative step towards Roy. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really glad,” you insisted as you pressed your body to his, eyebrows raised meaningfully.

“Yeah. Well.” He averted his gaze, knowing that the familiar look in your eye would have him dropping this little resentment.

“Roy,” you cooed, letting your hands wander up his chest, not caring if someone walked by and saw you embracing the brooding manager. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Oof. Apparently that was not the thing to say based on the fiery look in his eye. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you, especially when he reached up to grab your jaw.

“Jealous?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You think I’m jealous?”

You gulped. Actually fucking gulped. And that little movement had Roy’s scowl replaced with the sexiest smirk you’d ever seen. His grip was firm; not painful, but definitely strong. For the number of times you’d hooked up, you’d never seen his eyes so dark, filled with a mixture of irritation and lust. It had you rubbing your thighs together, not caring if Roy noticed.

And Roy definitely noticed.

His eyes flickered over your shoulder for a brief moment before settling on your parted lips.

“Let’s go.”

Keeping his grip on your jaw, he pushed you backwards, opening a door behind you and guiding you into a deserted women’s bathroom. He quickly locked the door and moved a vanity chair under the handle, clearly planning on being in here for a while. Once privacy was secured, his eyes were on you again.

“Jealous,” he repeated, a scoff now. “Fucking jealous.”

He walked you back until your ass hit the row of sinks, the cold stone penetrating through your tight dress. His hands found the spot on your upper thigh where dress met bare skin, his fingers dipping just under the soft material to grip your flesh roughly, tugging the hem of your dress up around your hips.

Instinctively, you threw your head back at his touch, feeling electricity follow his fingertips as they brushed over your skin. Roy’s hand immediately was on your jaw again, tugging you to face him.

“Watch,” he demanded in a low voice.

With a whimper that was more from arousal than anything else, you obeyed. You watched as he brought his hands over your hips and slowly rolled down your panties, letting them drop in a little pool of lace around your ankles. He placed one hand on your hip with a bruising grip as the other hand came to your already drenched pussy. When one finger traced your slit, you had to use all your concentration to keep yourself from throwing your head back in pleasure.

“So fucking wet,” Roy groaned, adding another finger as he slowly caressed your soaking lips. “Who’s that for? Your pretty boy ex?”

Not caring about looking desperate, you frantically shook your head. “You, Roy,” you murmured, your voice breathy. “All for you.” You leaned forward to capture his lips in a kiss, to assure him with your mouth that he was all you wanted, but he shook his head.

“Thought I told you to watch.”

No man had ever spoken to you this way. Most guys tried so hard to be smooth, or romantic, or cool. No one had ever been so possessive, so jealous. No one had ever stared at you with such an intensity. And no man had ever turned you on so fucking much.

Obediently, you tilted your head back down to watch as Roy slipped those two fingers inside you, setting a rough, mean pace that already had you gripping the sinks so hard your knuckles turned white. His thumb began stroking harsh circles on your clit, adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

“You better keep fucking watching,” he grumbled before his mouth attached to your neck, kissing with more tongue than lip, leaving a slobbery path over your skin.

Even with his eyes off of your face, you did as you were told. You watched those two firm fingers pump in and out of you, curling upwards in that way Roy did that had you squirming in your now wobbling high heels. The only thing keeping you upright was this sink and Roy’s harsh grip.

Roy grunted when he hit a particularly deep spot and felt you clench around his fingers. “You really hurt my fucking feelings,” he growled against your neck, giving a soft bite to the sensitive skin. “Ignoring me while you paraded around in that little fucking racing suit. Looking like a fucking goddess.” His thumb pressed down on your clit, provoking a sharp whine from you. “Like my fucking Empress.”

“Yours, Roy,” you groaned as your hips stuttered against his hand, your climax rapidly approaching. “All fucking yours.”

And you meant it. You really fucking meant it.

“Damn right you’re mine,” he grunted, adding a third finger to your sopping cunt. “And I want to feel you come just for me.”

Apparently, his wish was your command.

Something deep within you snapped, and you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, so tight that his third finger slipped out. But he kept fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, finally moving his mouth to yours to swallow your lewd moans as you soaked his fingers with your release.

“Good fucking girl,” he mumbled against your mouth as your vision went blurry; the only thing you could focus on was the trembling pleasure Roy gave you. “His fingers ever make you come like this?”

Your orgasm rendered your speechless, so all you could do was give a little shake of your head, desperate not to lose the feeling of Roy’s lips against yours. His pumps slowed as you came down from your high; you let go of the sink and gripped his arms, needing some help with standing.

But Roy didn’t want you to stand.

“Turn around,” he growled, pulling his soaked fingers out of you. “Unless you’re fucking done with me? Hmm? Got what you wanted from me, yeah? Ready to go back to your little party and ignore me some more?”

You bit your lip as your eyes travelled down to the extremely noticeable bulge in his pants. When you looked back at his face, it was dark with desire.

“Need you,” you managed to croak out.

That was good enough for him. Not caring if he got your juices on your dress, he grabbed your hips and spun you around, pushing you down over the sink. Instinctively, you spread your legs, listening for the delicious sound of his zipper coming undone. Your entire body vibrated with pleasure as you felt his tip, already dripping with precum, press against your soaked core.

Roy brought his hand- the one soaked from your orgasm- to your face. “Open,” he demanded. When you opened your mouth, he stuck his two drenched fingers inside. “Don’t want anyone else hearing your pretty fucking sounds. Those are just for me, aren’t they?”

You nodded, moaning around his gorgeous fingers as you tasted your pleasure on him. Fuck, no wonder he was addicted to making you come, some dirty part of you thought. You were delicious.

Satisfied with the view before him, Roy slowly buried himself inside your soaked cunt with ease, his eyes staring into yours through the mirror with that same mix of lust and possessiveness.

“There she is,” he sighed as he set a harsh pace, his free hand on your back to keep you bent over for him. “My fucking Empress. Feel so fucking good. Just for me.”

A muffled “Mmm hmm” around his fingers was all you could manage as you bucked your hips back against him, drooling at the feeling of his hot skin against your bare ass. His cock felt perfect inside you, twitching and throbbing against your already spasming walls.

Eyes still on yours in the mirror, he lowered his mouth to your bare upper back and began leaving rough kisses all over your skin, sloppy and reckless, until those kisses became bites. Roy started sucking at the soft skin as he thrust into your slowly bruising sex over and over again, moaning against your back. When you clenched around him particularly tight, his tongue left a slow, deliberate trail across your skin, sending shivers down the spine he still had his hand on.

He groaned and gave a particularly stuttering jerk into you. “Should I mark you up?” he teased. “Show everyone who you belong to?” Using the fingers in your mouth as leverage, he made you nod slowly, as though you were his little toy. “Well, if you insist.” Rolling his hips harder, deeper, Roy returned to your back, sucking hard enough to make you whimper against the pads of his fingers. But the way you rocked into him assured him you liked it.

“Fucking look at you,” he moaned, giving you a bit of that hip action that had you seeing stars. “You ever been fucked like this, gorgeous girl? Bent over in a fucking bathroom, fingers in your mouth?” He brought his lips to your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Bet no pretty boy’s ever done this.” He started sucking on the spot behind your ear, that perfect little spot that had you mewling as you spasmed against him.

He slowly inched his fingers further into your mouth, prompting you to suck them with the same enthusiasm you would his cock. The sensation had him twitching inside you, desperate to paint your walls.

“You look so fucking perfect,” he muttered as he returned his mouth to your slowly purpling back, adding more beautiful little dark spots wherever he could reach. “My dirty Empress.” He licked over a bite mark he’d left, one he hoped you’d have for days. “You want to come for me, gorgeous?”

Your desperate nod had him groaning. He’d never seen anyone look so fucking desperate, needy, hungry for him. After being ignored by you all weekend, to have you bent over in a public bathroom, panties on the floor, mouth full of his fingers, all of it was driving him mad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he knew he needed to let you come first.

He needed to remind you about how he could make you feel.

He removed his fingers from your mouth, drooling a bit when he heard the little whine that escaped your now empty mouth. The hand on your hip came up to your beautiful neck, urging you to stand up with your back to his heaving chest.

When you wobbled, he tightened his grip, just enough to hold you steady. “I’ve got you,” he promised, planting a tender kiss to your neck. “’ve always got you.”

Roy brought those fingers- now sodden from both your cunt and mouth- to your pulsing clit, rubbing firm circles over the bundle of nerves.

“Roy,” you whimpered, gripping his arms with your trembling hands. “Please.”

He smiled, a real smile for the first time all weekend, as his cock continued to bruise your cunt. “Would you look at that,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “My Empress remembered her manners.” He pumped his cock as deep as he could, over and over, desperate to hit that one perfect little spot that would- “Oh, there she is.”

He watched with lewd pride as you fell apart in front of him, mouth open in a silent scream. Your whole body was drenched in sweat as you trembled, your knees buckling beneath you; the only thing keeping you upright was Roy. As your body quivered with pleasure, you slouched back over the sink, wondering vaguely how you were going to walk in the morning, let alone in the next few minutes.

“Such a good girl,” Roy cooed, his voice thick with a beautiful mix of mocking and adoration. “Now tell me what else you want.”

“Your cum,” was your automatic answer as your fingers traced over the cool faucet. “Please,” you begged, probably for the first time in your life. “Please fucking come for me.”

Roy’s devilish smile widened, setting your whole body on fire. “If my Empress insists.”

Whit his hands back on your hips, his thrusts became sloppy, no longer about making you feel good- although, the overstimulation did have your eyes rolling back. He gave a few harsh, bruising drives before you felt him fill you up with that delicious release; fuck, how you wished you could taste it. Pump after pump until you could feel it begin to leak down your thighs. You shivered when you felt Roy glide a single finger over your sticky thigh and bring a cum-covered finger to your lips.

“Taste.”

He didn’t need to order you; you would have automatically stuck out your tongue to get a taste of that tangy stickiness that now coated your throbbing pussy.

The room was filled with ragged breathing as he finally pulled out of you, still keeping a firm grip on you to keep you from falling.

Finally, you smirked at him through the mirror- or at least, as much of a smirk as you could manage.

“Fuck,” you gasped, brushing your wild hair out of your face. “I’m really supposed to go back to the party like this?”

Roy’s dark chuckle had your heart racing. “Party?” he scoffed. “Oh no, baby. I’m not fucking done with you.”

Taglist:@hotdoglamp@daydreamgoddess14@klaine-92@gibby31@anonurs@taytaylala12@unholyhuntress@thatonedogwithablog@seacactusplant@e-mmygrey@jane-dough @zara-aliza08 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @deliriousfangirl61 @katdahlali

[ugotcooneycrossed]

i'd wait for you (even if you didn't ask me to)

georgia stanway x reader

w/c: ~600

you break up with georgia before she moves to germany, and she patiently waits for you

a/n: going back to my angst roots- sorry y'all

-----------------------------------------------------------

“I think we should break up- or at least um… go on a pause?”

The look Georgia, your girl- ex-girlfriend gives you makes you want to stop this conversation before it goes any further, your voice trails off in question before you cough softly.

Her eyes are a little red, and shiny- no doubt brimming with tears and it makes you bite your lip to stop you from back tracking.

Long distance won’t work. You know it won’t.

“Why?”

Georgia speaks so softly you almost miss it- G’s never quiet.

“G… you’re moving thousands of miles away.”

“Is that all? I’m moving? You don’t even want to try?”

You can’t seem to find the words to carry the conversation, Georgia is upset and it’s your fault.

“I’m sorry Georgia.”

“I’ll still wait for you (y/n), even if you don’t want me to.”

You regret it almost immediately- you walk away and consider turning around again, gather her up in your arms again and promise you’d give her the world right back.

-

Your transfer to Bayern was a shock.

Coming two months just after Georgia.

It fills you with a dread that weighs you down- your stomach knotting at the thought of seeing Georgia again, chest tightening with anxiety.

You know she’s doing okay- you’ve seen videos, she looks much happier since you last spoke.

You couldn’t be prouder of the way she has flourished over there- you keep up with all her matches- you keep a little note in your phone of the games and times she scores in.

Breaking up with her is your biggest regret.  

The entire flight to Germany you scroll through your phone- it’s mostly pictures of you and her- and you don’t realise your crying until a tear hits your phone. You wipe them away just as quickly as they come.

It should be fine. You're going to see Georgia and everything will be fine.

You run your finger softly over the ghost tattoo on your wrist- a matching one sits on Georgia’s arm and it brings out even more memories, you let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes.

-

The thought that Georgia has said something about you to your new teammates never crosses your mind- you know she would never do such a thing.

So, when they all welcome you with big smiles and open arms, you smile softly.

You’ve been preparing for the initiation song all week- you hate public speaking, you’ve always let other people talk, let them have the spotlight. Your more reserved nature meant you started to prepare for it weeks in advance- so you’re more than confused when no one mentions it, or drags you up on a table when a speaker breaks out.

-

It’s later when you are sitting outside looking at the field when a voice interrupts you.

“Uh… if you’re wondering why they didn’t make you sing- I told them you were sick.”

Georgia stands awkwardly behind you, hands in her pockets.

“Oh… thank you Georgia.”

“Yeah of course.”

A beat passes between you two then-

“Look I’m sorr-“   “I really regre-“

Georgia moves to sit next to you quickly- a gap still in between and it makes you aware of just how much you miss her and her touch.

You both laugh softly at each other, but you nod at her to continue first, eyes focused anywhere but the girl next to you. She gets the message regardless- she always understands you.

“I waited for you, you know… I love you with all my heart, I’d give you the universe if I could. I've missed you so much. I’m actually still waiting for you- I hope you’ve changed your mind by the way otherwise this would be very awk-.”

“G… breaking up with you is my biggest regret I-“

“Oh, thank god-”

Georgia cuts you off with a kiss, pulling away to rest your foreheads together.

“Never break up with me again.”

[desires-of-chain]

A Smell So Sweet

It’s been a while, but here I am, back once more, wizard anon! This one has been sitting in my docs half finished for like, a month, and I am finally here to deliver some Twilight content for y'all. And perhaps the other things I’ve written shall see the light of day sometime soon…

Anyway, on with the show!

Content: gender neutral reader, Twilight and his enhanced nose, and his scent kink, eating out/giving head, facefucking, facials. Word count: 942

—-

You pull your hand out of your underwear frantically, standing back from the tree you were leant against. Shit, you completely forgot about Twilight’s patrol tonight.

You hear his boots crunching against the leaves and twigs of the forest underbrush, heading straight towards you, and you curse the wolf form for giving him heightened sense of smell. There’s no way he doesn’t know what you came out here to do. When he calls out your name, voice dropped an octave lower than usual, your fate is sealed.

“I could’ve helped you back at camp, y’know.” He leans up against the tree you originally rested your back on to take care of your… business.

“And wake everyone up? No thanks. I can take care of this just fine.”

You begin to back away from Twilight, if only to lessen the smell and thus make it less awkward for him, but he stalks after you. It feels like you’re being hunted, the way he keeps his eyes trained on your body. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t incredibly hot. That he… sniffed you out, compelled to be close to you simply by smelling your own need.

“Would you enjoy if I helped you take care of it?”

Goddess, yes you would. If he had waited any longer before interrupting, you are sure he would’ve heard his name out of your mouth as you touched yourself.

You’re about to say so when you trip over a tree root and go tumbling backwards. Twilight tries to catch you, but instead ends up on top of you, almost pinning you down. If you weren’t one half stunned and the other half horny your brain would likely believe it was on purpose. As it stands, all you can think about is the weight of his bulk pushing your legs apart around his hips.

“You smell so fucking good…” He leans down and begins peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone - you’re only in your loose underlayers, since it’s the middle of the night. Twilight could get to any of you with ease, and the hands crawling across your stomach and chest confirm it. Your hands go to the hem of your trousers, trying to push them out of the way.

“C'mon then, show me a good time.”

He shifts away from you just enough to allow you to discard your trousers, lower half now bare and at the mercy of the elements - and Twilight’s mouth, as he immediately shuffles down and begins biting and kissing your thighs. You breathe heavily through the sensations, thighs sensitive and ticklish. Then strong hands push your legs to bracket his face and he moves closer to your need.

“You’re irresistible. I could smell you all the way back at camp - goddess, I needed to get my mouth on you.” He leans down and drags his tongue up the length of you. You can’t help but cry out, warmth of his mouth and texture of his tongue shocking pleasure through your system. He keeps his lips moving, shifting to your most sensitive part and taking it into his mouth. Then he sucks, looking back up at you with open pleading eyes.

“Fucking hell, rancher… you really are desperate for it.” He moans against you, and you moan in turn at the vibrations. His hands push you further against his face, back and forth, and through the haze of the pleasure you figure out what he wants you to do.

You buck up. He takes it, tongue pushing out of his mouth to catch more of you, his face the picture of bliss.

Within no time, you’re properly fucking his face, chasing your pleasure against him as he laps you up willingly. Neither of you are quiet - both too preoccupied to worry about if anyone hears, Twilight moaning against you with every buck and swirl of his tongue, yourself too caught up in the feeling to even know what sounds are coming out of your mouth.

Your hands come down to weave into his hair as you get closer to your peak, controlling his movement and really pushing yourself into his mouth. He welcomes the force easily, letting you move his head any way you wish.

When you orgasm, you cover the bottom half of Twilight’s face in your spend. Catching your breath, you try to apologise - but the words die in your throat as you take in his expression.

Pure, unmistakable happiness and satisfaction.

He sits back on his knees, dazedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at you. Then, he finally seems to get his wits about him - his face flushes three shades darker, and he fumbles around himself for your discarded clothes.

“Sorry, I, er– I don’t fully know what came over me. I just– you smelled so good. Sorry if I came on too strong—” You rise to your knees and grab his chin. Your hand found your trousers half way through his rambling, and you pull the bottom of one of the legs up to his face.

“This looks good on you.” You say, slowly and gently wiping his face. “Don’t apologise. I was into it.” You finish up with a kiss - still slightly tasting yourself on his lips. He just stares back. Even as you pull your trousers back on, beckoning him to stand and head back to camp with you, he kneels there with a dumb blank look on his face.

Suddenly realising he’s about to be left behind, he scrambles to his feet after you, following you with a half pleading,

“Does that mean we can do this again?” ---------------------------- jkdflsjkfhjdsflsd, THAT’S SUM GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE. GOOD SHIT I TELL YA

[holdmytesseract]

Cravings & Foot Rubs

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N

Summary: Pop-Tarts, foot rubs and massages. That's all you are craving - and Loki is more than willing to fulfill your wishes.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, pregnancy things, Loki being an overprotective lil' beb, ladders?

Word Count: 1,2k

a/n: To celebrate the release of the Loki Season 2 trailer, I thought I'm gonna post a lil' story! ☺️

This was an idea @eleniblue had. ☺️ She texted me the thing with the foot rubs and massages - and well... That's what the writing department in my brain spat out. I love it. I hope y'all do, too! 🥰

Baby Fever Crew: @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @vbecker10 @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @coldnique @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @mostclevermiss @aagn360 @acefeather2002 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @chennqingg @lokiforever @anukulee

Peeps, I think might like this... @mochie85 @smolvenger @muddyorbsblr ☺️

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

With a low grunt, you stepped on the little ladder, in order to reach the top shelf, in which the Avengers had stowed away the Pop-Tarts. They had to hide them away. Unless Thor would've eaten all of them - and he wasn't the only one who liked the sweet treat. You did, too, for example.

Unfortunately, was the mission ahead no easy one for you - at least at the moment, with being almost eight months pregnant... This far along in the pregnancy was almost everything a difficult task.

"Uhh, getting Pop-Tarts, babe... We ran out of them and, uh, I desperately wanted some, and I know where Tony hides them, so..." Loki helped you step down from the ladder; his strong grip not ceasing. Once your feet touched solid ground again, you turned to face him. "So, you decide to climb a ladder in order to get some?!" "Uhh, yeah?" Troubled blue eyes were looking down at you. The expression on his face told him that he didn't like this at all.

Taking the next two steps with a grunt, your hand was finally able to reach the top shelf. You let out a victorious giggle and grabbed the Pop-Tarts you craved - chocolate and strawberry.

Just when you wanted to take a step back again, in order to get off the small ladder, you suddenly felt two very strong hands gripping your hips. "What by the holy roots of Yggdrasil are you doing, love?!" It was your husband, of course. The pitch of his voice told you, that he was not amused... And worried.

Your lover took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Darling... This is dangerous..." He started; both his palms wandering from your hips to the swell of your stomach. "You can't just climb a ladder, being so heavily pregnant... You could've fallen! I was just down the hall. You could've asked me - or hence, even him to help you!" Loki turned to nod at Bucky, who sat quietly on one of the bar stools; eating chocolate pudding. He didn't want to just interfere in your argument, so he kept his mouth shut and played 'Subway Surfers' on his mobile. But when Loki called him out, he lifted his head to face the 'fighting' couple. The god looked at him with a rather mean gaze, while you had an apologetic expression on your face; mouthing 'Sorry, Buck.'

Bucky immediately lifted his hands in surrender. "Hey, don't put this on me, man. I tried to help her, but she told me she was fine, so I accepted her decision." Your husband turned back around to you. "Y/N!" "I'm sorry, babe! But I wanted to make this on my own. I am not sick, just pregnant." Loki sighed; "I know that, love, and I can understand it as well - but..." his hands found your baby bump once more. "I just want you two to be safe. Next time you're craving Pop-Tarts, please tell me. I'll get them for you, yes?" You nodded; getting his point. "Yes." Loki smiled, "Good girl." and leaned forward to peck your lips. "Now, is there something else my beautiful wife is craving, beside Pop-Tarts?"

Believe it or not, but the god loved to give you any kind of massages you desired. He loved the feeling of your skin underneath his palms and fingertips, and the fact that he was able to ease up a lot of your pains. Those magically hands of his, were always able to make you feel good. In more than just one way.

Your cheeks turned slightly red because of Loki's flattering words, as you thought for a moment, then smiled; biting your lip. "Foot rubs?" Loki nodded; smiling brightly as well. "Foot rubs it is."

"Lay down, my queen and I shall give you what you desire." Loki guided you towards the sofa and even helped you lay down. He stacked up another pillow behind your back to make sure that you were comfortable. "Is this to yours and our child's liking?" You giggled like a school girl, nodding. "It is, Lokes. Thank you." "Perfect." The god moved down to your feet then; placed them on his lap. Gently taking off your socks, he started to massage your swollen, hurting feet. Not even a minute had passed, when the first satisfied and utterly relieved moan slipped past your lips. Loki just chuckled and lifted his head to meet your gaze. "Does that feel good, love?" "Heavenly..."

He continued to massage your feet for a while, before he moved up to work the muscles of your calves. After making sure that he gave them enough attention, he went to slip your maternity shorts easily up, bending one leg after the other and massaged your thighs. "Baaabe..." You grunted in satisfaction. "You are so good at this. Have you ever considered to work as a masseur? Those hands are magical - literally. Please don't stop." You pouted; looking down at him. Loki just chuckled once more and shook his head. "I do not intend to stop, darling." Of course, the god was utterly tempted to let his hands travel even further up, but he didn't, because he wanted to help your muscles relax and to give them - you, a break.

"Want me to give your back a massage as well?" "If you'd be willing to do that..." You stated; smiling sheepishly. Loki's lips twitched into another smile. "Turn around, sweet girl." You giggled and did what he said; turned on your side. "As your husband and father of this little wonder you're growing, it is my duty to do everything possible, that makes you feel good - which includes countless foot rubs and massages."

"Don't go..." You mumbled. "Stay." Loki's heart skipped a beat at your words - like so often. "Shall I join you?" A sleepy smile crossed your soft facial features. "Please..." He gave your hand a squeeze, "Alright." and let go of it, in order to lay down beside you. The god didn't slip underneath the blanket, but grabbed a pillow and slid down, until he was face to face with your bump. Pressing a lingering kiss on the roundness which was his child, he wrapped an arm around your hip and hugged you - or well, rather your baby close. You smiled at this gesture. It was something Loki loved to do.

Loki gently lifted your t-shirt, "The small of your back again?" "Uh.Huh." and started to do his good work. "Hips too, darling?" "Yep." "Alright." His hands gently kneaded the muscles and skin of your lower back first, before he moved further to your hips. Loki massaged your left hip first, then the right.

By the end of his soothing and much-needed massage, you were totally relaxed; your sore muscles eased. Hence, you were on the verge of sleeping in - what didn't slip Loki's notice, of course. You didn't even realise, how he stood up and draped a blanket over your body. Only when you felt his cool lips pressing against your forehead did your sleepy brain react. "Take a nap, my love. Rest a bit." Before he could walk away, you reached out your arm and grabbed one of his large hands.

You buried your hands in his long, wild raven curls; massaging his scalp gently. A satisfying groan rumbled through his chest, as he buried his face in the fabric of the blanket, which covered your bump.

Sometimes, words weren't needed and a gesture was all it took. That was such a moment. With your heart filled with love and adoration, you watched the love of your life cuddle with your unborn baby and slowly drifted off to sleep.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Kissing your foreheads tbh

Real talk: I'm not used to my fics getting SO much attention, so I'm seriously overwhelmed by all the love y'all been sending for Guilty Pleasure here and on AO3 😭😍 Just, WOW. THANK YOU!!

I'm still trying to catch up with all the comments and reblogs atm, but I'll try to respond to it all ASAP! Please know that I appreciate it so so very much. It's also been wonderful to see people who were rooting for a different ending but nevertheless really liked how things turned out 💜 And to those of you who normally don't read DBF, but gave it a try anyway or put it on your TBR - thank you for giving it a chance!!

(meme by @gasolinerainbowpuddles)

I've been asked if there will be an epilogue, and the answer to that is 'not exactly'. BUT there will be more to come in a sort of 'companion series' that I've started on, and it will definitely touch on events in the finale of Guilty Pleasure. That series will take me a little while to write though! Meanwhile, if you have any questions or want to know more about particular characters, feel free to drop them in a comment or an ask. Thanks so much for all the love. 💜

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

Okay, but as a fandom old, aka someone who's been here since 2014, it's truly disheartening to see what poor sportsmanship most everyone has. I haven't seen this much fandom wank since the airing of 3x4 (believe me, you don't want to have been there for that). I think we're all forgetting that this is SUBJECTIVE, so literally no one is or CAN be wrong! You think so-and-so is hot? Not wrong! You think so-and-so is NOT hot? NOT wrong!

With that said, I propose that those of us who're indifferent, or just here to have a funky good time, should vote for a woman. Why? Because all the people exhibiting poor sportsmanship are rooting for male characters. I'd like to humbly suggest that Peggy deserves to win (just look at who she married), but in the end, I don't really care WHO wins, so long as it's not a guy since I don't want y'all gloating and making things 10x more unbearable than this experience already has been. Go outside and touch grass! Read a book! Smell some pretty flowers!

ok so i genuinely don't even know how to approach this ask but, in the words of robert rogers, "here we go!!"

from where i'm standing, i see all this back and forth arguing (via the propaganda and such) as funny and good-natured, even if it can be melodramatic and catty at times. for me personally, the best part of this bracket is seeing everyone get so passionate about something objectively pretty unserious and, like you said, subjective. like, the political-esque jargon i use in my posts is meant to point out this irony--it's funny to be comparing something as stupid as a hot bracket to something as serious as irl elections

i might be getting it wrong here, but from this ask, it seems you're perceiving pieces of hot bracket propaganda as genuine attacks on anyone who doesn't agree with that propaganda. i personally think that's a bit of an uncharitable outlook to have, but that said, i could just be being overly charitable to people here. i will admit, it is my default position to assume that we're all just having fun here, and it's all not that deep, and that people are being tongue-in-cheek with their posts. i may be wrong about that. if i am, i would genuinely like to hear feedback about that

this ask does genuinely concern me and how my bracket is affecting people's fandom experience. i am one of the bigger blogs in the fandom and this bracket has definitely been a pretty well-circulated event. i did make a joke about wanting to cause chaos at some point, but THAT WAS IN FACT A JOKE. if enough ppl believe this bracket is making the fandom experience "unbearable", i will stop the bracket and delete everything i have up related to it

[cottoncandytomu]

Admiring The Beauty That Is Ellie Williams

(Not my photos I just edited them)

This is just a little something I wrote in the moment. I hope it can partially (not really) make up for the hiatus I have been on for the longest time. N E wayzzz if y'all enjoy like, reblog and comment. yak the vibesss.

My content no matter what is 18+ NO MINORS PLEASE!!

Summary: Just you admiring the beauty that is Ellie Williams (Queen)

There was something in the way her eyes sparkled at the simplest achievements. The day she found a vinyl of one of her favorite bands at a torn apart music store. The roots of plants and trees growing throughout the building, wrapping around the wooden shelves that held tons of records. In a way it gave the old store a sense of beauty, spending time to take in moments as these come far and few between. There isn’t much time to stop and appreciate the gift that is nature. Too focused on trying to survive and fight for something as simple as life. 

But being able to see the shine that gleamed in her beautiful pale green eyes, to see her dimples dance on her cheeks as her smile gleamed and brightened the room. You were sure she didn’t understand the beauty she emitted. Anytime you would admire her presence she would give you a look of confusion, wondering what was wrong with her this time. Yet when you would tell her exactly what it was that you were admiring she’d laugh it off as if it was a joke. If only she could understand that a joke was the last thing on your mind, if on your mind at all. 

If only she could understand that the way she finds wins in simple pleasures warms your body. How the rough pads of her fingertips, from constant fighting and playing her guitar would feel as they trace the shapings of your body. And speaking of, the way she would elegantly play and sing some of the most beautiful sounds you have ever heard will never fail to leave your jaw slack in awe. 

The way her hair would fall in her face, framing the beauty that is her. Her perfect lips and how the soft plush of them would feel against yours. You’d never grow tired of kissing her, you could go at it for hours if she’d allow it. The flex in her arms when she uses her strength to fight off anything that would dare come your way. She’d never let anything or anyone touch you, let alone have the chance to touch you in the first place. 

You always kiss the crease that folds in between her brow when she’s angry or full of sorrow. Helping to ease away her stresses whenever you can, you can’t always help but it does calm her down. She chases any bit of affection from you, always wanting to touch you in any way. Even if some would deem it as insignificant, a simple brush of shoulders as you two walk side by side is enough for her. 

As much as you admire her, she does it back to you tenfold. You are the absolute most breathtaking person she has ever laid her eyes on and she will never stop showering you in the love you deserve. No matter how tough things get in an unforgiving world as this one, you both will love each other till the very end. 

Each sensual touch in the dark will forever send sparks flying between you two. You were her life as she was yours and nothing could ever tear that apart.

Thanks for reading!! More of my work can be found pinned on my page!! Love you Lovelies~ <33

-Tomu~