#im afraid they did that and since then NOTHING has come close to them! NOTHING! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

robinvomit · 2 months ago

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† i'm home : various.

♦ request: yes - part two of "The Final Call." ♦ recap: you sleep through several calls and awake to their last voicemail, believing they are now gone. ♦ a/n: i'm pretty sure this one doesn't need a t/w? if im wrong, please let me know.

+ taglist: @myrachondria - @oohyasumi - @sept3mberchild - @kathiebernie ( I think this is everyone? )

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

voicemails aren't supposed to be final words. they're supposed to be casual, fleeting - hey, don't forget to pick up milk. hey, i'll be home late. hey, i love you. not i don't think i'm making it out of this one. not i'm sorry. not i love you. god, i love you.

but that's exactly what dick left you.

and now, he's standing in front of you, alive.

and you. you look like you've seen a ghost.

for you, it has been days. days of grief, of silence, of waiting for confirmation that never came. days of carrying your phone like a lifeline, unable to delete the message, unable to stop playing it back over and over until the words blurred together into something unreal.

for dick, it has only been hours. hours of clawing his way back, of defying fate, of sheer, reckless determination to return to you.

but time doesn't matter.

because right now, you're just staring at him, frozen in place, like the moment you move, he'll disappear.

his throat tightens, guilt settling deep in his ribs as he watches the way your hands clench at your sides, fingers trembling slightly, barely holding yourself together. he should say something. god, he should say something. but the words catch in his throat, because you are looking at him like he is both a miracle and a betrayal.

and that? that kills him.

"hey." his voice is hoarse, quiet, pathetic, really. like that single word is enough to undo what he did to you. like it's enough to erase the hours you spent believing he was dead.

you inhale sharply, a quick, fractured sound, and then you move.

you collide with him, hands grabbing at his jacket, at his shoulders, at his face; desperate, frantic, shaking. like you need to feel him, need to know he's real, need to hold onto something solid before the moment slips away. and dick? he lets you. he lets you pull him down, lets you bury your face against his chest, lets you breathe him in, lets you fall apart in his arms because he knows you have been holding yourself together with nothing but sheer willpower since the moment you heard his voice say goodbye.

his hands come up, arms circling you, holding you tight, grounding. he presses his lips against the top of your head, murmurs your name, soft, careful, reverent. he doesn't tell you it's okay - because it's not. he doesn't say it's over - because for you, it's still happening.

your grip tightens, fists curling into his shirt, pulling at the fabric, voice raw when you finally speak. "i thought you were dead."

he closes his eyes. god, he hates that. he hates knowing that for hours, that's all you had. that there was no closure, no relief, just a voicemail and silence.

"i know." his hands slide up your back, steady, solid. "i know, baby."

you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes red-rimmed, lips trembling, a million emotions fighting to surface all at once. and then you hit him.

it's not a real hit, just your fist against his chest, weak, barely enough to be called a shove. but it knocks the breath out of him all the same, because he knows exactly what it means.

"you-" your voice breaks, thick and uneven. "you told me you weren't going to make it."

dick winces, because yeah. he did. he whispered those words into the phone, voice shaking, breath unsteady, leaving you with nothing but love and loss tangled together in the worst way possible.

"i know." his forehead drops to yours, his hands covering yours, holding them tight like he's afraid to let go. "i thought.." he swallows hard. "i thought that was it."

your breath stutters, your fingers curling tighter into his shirt, knuckles white.

"i played it over and over."

dick's stomach twists, guilt settling deep in his chest like a bullet that won't stop bleeding.

"i'm sorry." the words are barely a whisper, and he knows it will never be enough.

your hands shake against his chest. then, slowly, your grip shifts.

"you came back." it's quiet, fragile, disbelieving.

dick exhales, his hands sliding up, framing your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones like he needs to memorize every detail of you all over again.

"i came back." his voice is hoarse, his lips ghosting over your forehead, breath catching on something raw, something unspoken. "i always will."

and when you pull him into a kiss - desperate, aching, deep - he lets it say everything neither of you can.

because this is not a second chance.

this is not a lucky escape.

this is a promise.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 —

jason todd has cheated death before.

he has clawed his way out of the abyss, gasping for air that didn't feel real, stumbling through the wreckage of his own existence with shaking hands and a pulse that beat just to spite the universe. he has felt the cold edge of death press against his throat and come back with bloodied knuckles, with bruises that never faded, with the knowledge that some part of him would always belong to the grave.

but, it's different. standing here now - bruised, aching, alive when he shouldn't be - he watches as your entire world crumbles and rebuilds itself in real-time.

he sees the way your body locks up, the way your breath catches, the way your eyes widen with something too raw to name. you don't move. not yet. not like last time, when you would've already had your arms around him, when you would've pressed close like you could hold all the broken pieces of him together just by touching him.

this is hesitation. this is disbelief. this is grief still fresh in your bones, still etched into the way you hold yourself like you are trying to keep from breaking apart.

and jason?

jason did that to you.

his chest goes tight, breath catching, throat burning with the weight of every second you spent believing he was dead. he doesn't know how to fix this. he doesn't know how to undo the days you spent drowning in silence, in an ending he left you with, in words that weren't supposed to be the last thing he ever said to you.

he should speak. should say something, should soften the sharp edges of this moment, should tell you that he's here, he's real, that it's over.

but the words never come.

because you move first.

it isn't slow. it isn't careful. it's a collision.

you crash into him, fingers twisting into his jacket, into his shirt, into the solid weight of him like you are trying to pull him inside out, like you are trying to prove he won't disappear this time. there is nothing delicate in the way you grip, clutch, anchor yourself to him. it is desperate, it is brutal, it is the kind of touch that doesn't just ask if he's real - it demands it.

and jason lets you.

he lets you pull, lets you press against him with shaking hands and too-tight fingers and breath that hitches against his collarbone. his arms come up instinctively, wrapping around you, crushing, steady in a way he doesn't feel. his pulse is unsteady, erratic, the pain in his ribs forgotten in the wake of the way you tremble against him.

his hands slide up your back, slow, deliberate, because you are shaking and it's his fault.

"i thought you were dead."

your voice is wrecked, muffled against his chest, the words barely holding together.

jason exhales, something breaking deep inside him. he wants to lie. wants to tell you that it was never that close, that he wasn't actually dying, that you never really had to grieve him. but you would see right through it. you always do.

"i know." his voice is rough, guilt scraping raw against every syllable.

you pull back, just slightly, just enough to look at him. and fuck - the look in your eyes nearly kills him all over again.

because you don't just look relieved. you look furious.

then, you hit him.

not enough to hurt - not really. just a weak, shaking fist against his chest, a barely-there shove, but it knocks the air out of his lungs anyway.

"you told me you weren't coming back, asshole!"

jason winces.

because yeah. he did.

he had said those words into his phone like they meant nothing. like they weren't going to tear you apart. like they weren't going to be the thing that echoed in your head for the rest of your life.

his jaw locks, his hands gripping at your arms, keeping you close. "i didn't think i was."

your breath shakes. your fingers curl against his chest. tears still shine along your lashes, but you aren't crying.

not anymore.

"i played it over and over." the words hit like a gunshot, like a knife twisting, like something he will never forgive himself for.

jason's grip on you tightens. too tight. "i'm sorry." his voice is low, hoarse, heavy, filled with every single second of your suffering that he can never take back.

your hands are still pressed against him, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. then, slowly, you shake your head.

and then you pull him back in.

this time, it's different. less desperate, but just as deep. your hands slide up, past his collar, fingers tangling in his hair, and jason lets his forehead drop against yours, lets himself breathe you in, lets himself steady his shaking hands against your skin.

"you came back."

it's not a question.

it's a realization. a soft, exhausted, unbelievable realization.

jason huffs out something close to a laugh. not because any of this is funny, but because it's the only sound he can make that won't choke him.

"i came back." his lips brush against your temple, the words warm, steady, unshakable. "i always come back to you."

and when you kiss him - deep, raw, spilling every emotion you have into it.

because this isn't just another night.

this isn't just another close call.

this is something neither of you will ever be able to forget.

and jason todd doesn't waste second chances.

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞 —

tim always knew he would die young.

it wasn't pessimism, wasn't melodrama, wasn't some self-destructive acceptance of his fate—it was just the truth.

he had done the calculations. the probability of survival in this line of work was dismal at best. he had watched it happen over and over— - bodies buried, names carved into stone, the world moving on without them. it wasn't a matter of if. it was when.

and yet, somehow, he survived.

the night air is cold against his bruised skin as he stands there, barely inside the doorway, still reeling from the sheer fact that he made it back at all. his ribs ache, his stitches pull, his limbs feel heavy, like they're carrying the weight of something unseen. his hands are cold, fingers stiff from too many hours spent in darkness, clawing his way back to this moment. back to you.

but you aren't moving.

you are staring at him, frozen in place, breath shallow, eyes wide. your hands are curled at your sides, twitching slightly like you don't know whether to reach for him or hold yourself together.

tim feels it before you even say a word - the wreckage of what he left behind, the aftermath of what his disappearance did to you. he watches the slow realization sink into your body, the way your posture stiffens under the weight of grief that never got the chance to settle, the way your eyes flicker between disbelief and something else, something sharp, something close to anger.

and suddenly, he understands.

because for him, it has only been hours. for you, it has been days.

days of silence. days of staring at your phone, waiting for a text that never came, waiting for an update that never arrived. days of replaying his last voicemail over and over, clinging to the sound of his voice because it was all you had left.

he doesn't know how to fix that.

he doesn't know if he can.

his throat is dry when he finally tries to speak, voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. "it's me."

it's stupid. you know that. you can see him, you can hear him, and yet—

you don't respond.

tim sways slightly, exhaustion clawing at him, vision still adjusting to the way the world feels too real, too sharp. too much. he barely registers the way your breath catches, the way your hands start to shake, the way you finally - finally - move.

and then, you're in front of him.

not gently. not cautiously. it's a forceful, stumbling motion, like your body doesn't quite trust what your mind is telling you. you grab at his jacket, tugging him closer, fingers curling into the fabric like you need something to hold onto.

and tim catches you.

he doesn't breathe, doesn't do anything but let you touch him, let you prove to yourself that he's real, that he's solid, that he's not slipping away.

then, just as suddenly you shove him.

it's not enough to hurt, but the message is clear. your breath is shaky, shoulders rising and falling too quickly, hands still clenched in his jacket like you don't know if you want to pull him closer or push him away again. your lips part, but no words come out, just a sharp exhale, an uneven attempt at keeping yourself together.

tim exhales slowly, his hands coming up cautiously, hovering, unsure. he has seen you in every state of being - happy, exhausted, furious, broken - but this? this is different.

this is grief. still fresh. still burning.

"you were gone." the words barely make it past your lips, raw and frayed at the edges, like you've been holding them inside your chest since the moment you thought he was dead.

tim swallows hard. he knows.

he knows because he left you with nothing but a voicemail; his voice shaking, his breath ragged, his words nothing but an apology and a plea.

he knows because, in his mind, he was already dead.

and now he's here.

and that means you had to go through all of it for nothing.

"i know." his voice is quiet, hesitant, because he knows there is no right thing to say. there is no apology big enough, no reassurance strong enough to undo what he put you through.

your hands tighten, knuckles white.

"you didn't tell me."

his stomach knots. "tell you what?"

"that you were going to die." your voice shakes, something sharp creeping in beneath it. not just pain. not just relief. something worse.

he knows what's coming before you even say it.

"you didn't let me say goodbye. you just-- you just said you're sorry.. you asked me not to forget you! but you didn't let me say goodbye.."

tim's breath catches.

he left you with only his words, only his voice, only the last pieces of him recorded in a message he never wanted you to hear.

your throat tightens, your eyes flickering away for a split second - just long enough for him to see it.

the exhaustion. the heartbreak. the look of someone who already lived through losing him.

the reality crashes into him like a cold wave. you aren't just reacting to his return—you're reacting to the loss that already settled into your bones.

for you, he's not just coming home. he's rising from the dead.

tim's hands finally move, cautious, careful, sliding over yours where they still grip his jacket. his forehead drops against yours, his breath unsteady, his pulse hammering under his skin.

"i'm here," he whispers, voice barely holding together. "i'm here, i'm alive."

it doesn't feel like enough. not after everything.

but then your grip tightens.

"you better be," you murmur, and for the first time in days, your voice holds something real, something warm, something that sounds like you.

tim exhales.

because you aren't letting go.

and neither is he.

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

damian wayne does not believe in miracles.

he does not put his faith in luck or fate, does not wait for the universe to show mercy. survival is not granted—it is earned. it is fought for with bloodied hands, with sharp steel, with a will so unbreakable that even death hesitates before taking its claim.

and yet, standing here now - bruised, bleeding, alive - he knows that his survival does not erase what he put you through.

the doorway feels smaller than it should. the space between you is too wide, too heavy, filled with a silence that he cannot read. your posture is rigid, your breathing shallow, your fingers curled at your sides as if the only thing holding you together is the sheer force of your own restraint.

he sees it instantly; the devastation that still lingers, the grief that had already settled into your bones. because for you, it has been days.

days of waiting. days of unanswered calls. days of replaying his voice, of clinging to words that should have never been his last.

and he did that to you.

the realization cuts deeper than any wound.

he is used to assessing damage, to reading the battlefield, to calculating the weaknesses of those who stand before him. but now, the battlefield is you. the damage is him.

his throat tightens, his body aching from injuries that feel insignificant in comparison to the weight pressing against his chest. his voice is quieter than he intends when he finally speaks. "beloved."

the sound of his voice is what breaks you.

a sharp inhale, your body jerking like he has struck you, like his words are something physical, something you weren't prepared to endure. your head tilts slightly, your lips parting, but nothing comes out. you are still processing, still trying to reconcile the damian in front of you with the one whose voice bled through your phone in the dead of night. the one who told you he was dying.

then, before he can say anything else - you move.

it is not a slow approach. it is not careful, not hesitant. it is a forceful, desperate motion, your body colliding into his with more strength than you likely realize. your hands grip at his shoulders, at his chest, pushing against him, pulling him closer, fingers curling into the fabric of his torn uniform.

damian does not react immediately; not because he does not want to. but because he does not deserve to.

he lets you press against him, lets you feel the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, lets you prove to yourself that he is real, that he is here. that he is not a ghost, not a voice frozen in time, not a memory.

and then your hands tighten.

your nails dig in, sharp and shaking, your breath uneven as it rushes against his collar. your body is trembling.

he hates it. he hates that he is the cause.

"you said- " your voice cracks, unsteady, but filled with something sharp. something close to anger. "you said you refused to say goodbye."

he exhales slowly, his head tilting forward, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his hands coming up but he stops himself from touching you. he doesn't deserve to hold you yet.

"and i meant it." his voice is quiet but firm, the words low, steady, unshaken. a vow. a truth.

your breath stutters, your grip tightening before you shove him.

it is not enough to move him, not enough to actually push him back, but the force behind it makes his chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with his injuries.

"i thought you were dead." the words are not just grief, they are betrayal.

his jaw tightens. he does not look away.

"i know." the admission is quiet, restrained, guilt threading through his words. because what else can he say?

you are shaking, your body locked between relief and fury, between the instinct to fall apart and the need to hold yourself together. "you left me with nothing but your voice."

he does not flinch, but he feels the weight of it settle deep in his ribs.

"i fought." the words are not a defense, they are a statement. a truth. "i fought my way back to you."

your breath is sharp, uneven, your hands still gripping at his uniform like you don't know how to let go.

"and if you hadn't?" the question is quiet, but there is a storm behind it.

he inhales, slow and deliberate, his fingers twitching at his sides, his control razor-thin. he does not lie to you.

"i would have died with your name on my lips."

the breath you let out is shattered. then, you do the only thing you can.

you grab him by the collar, yanking him down into a kiss that is not soft, not sweet, not delicate.

it is desperate. it is furious. it is relief and anger and love all wrapped into one broken, breathless moment.

and damian lets you take what you need.

because this is not forgiveness.

this is not an ending.

this is a beginning.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 —

stephanie brown never stops moving.

even when she's hurt, even when things go sideways, even when she's on the edge of disaster - she keeps going. that's who she is, that's who she's always been. she doesn't stop, doesn't falter, doesn't let the weight of the world keep her down.

until now. now, she stands in the doorway, bruised, aching, still running on the last fumes of adrenaline, watching the way you go completely still at the sight of her.

and suddenly, she doesn't know what to do.

because for her, it hasn't been that long - just hours, maybe less. hours of dragging herself out of the wreckage, of crawling her way to safety, of fighting to make it back to you. hours of holding onto the hope that if she could just keep moving, just keep breathing, then maybe she could fix this.

but for you? for you, it has been days.

days of silence. days of nothing but a voicemail that should have never been her last words. days of sitting with the weight of knowing that she had been dying somewhere out there, alone, leaving you with nothing but a shaky, panicked confession over the phone.

and now, she's just here. standing. alive.

like she didn't just rip your heart out and leave you to put it back together alone.

your hands twitch slightly at your sides, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something raw, something like fury, something that looks like you don't know whether to cry or scream.

stephanie shifts on her feet, tries to make a joke - that's what she always does, isn't it? just some dumb, sarcastic quip to break the tension, to make it easier. but nothing about this is easy. because she left you.

because you had to live through her death, and now you don't even know how to look at her.

her voice is rough, uneven, when she finally speaks. "heeey…"

your expression cracks. just slightly. just enough for her to see it.

but still, you move.

not carefully. not gently. it's a forceful, desperate motion, your body crashing into hers so hard it sends a sharp spike of pain through her ribs, but she doesn't care. she barely even notices because you are gripping her jacket so tight she can feel your fingers shaking through the fabric.

and then, you push her back.

not far, not enough to hurt, but enough that she has to look at you - really look.

"you-" your voice catches, throat tight, words barely making it past your lips. "you called me."

she knows where this is going.

you don't stop.

"you told me you weren't coming home." your breath is sharp, uneven, your whole body locked between wanting to break apart and forcing yourself to stay together.

stephanie's jaw tightens, her fingers twitching at her sides. she doesn't know what to say. what can she say?

that she thought she was dying? you already know that. that she was scared? you heard it in her voice. that she hadn't meant to leave you behind with nothing but a voicemail full of words that were supposed to be enough?

you inhale sharply, shaking your head. "i thought you were dead."

her stomach twists violently.

she should be better at this. she should have something to say - something to fix this, something to make it hurt less. but she doesn't.

all she has is this moment, standing in front of you, knowing she broke you.

"i'm sorry." the words feel weak, feel like they could never be enough.

your hands fist into her jacket again, knuckles white, like you're still waiting for her to disappear.

and then your breath shudders.

"you told me not to let it wreck me," you whisper. "but it did."

that. that is what breaks her.

her fingers come up, careful, hesitant, brushing against your cheek, against the dried tears left behind.

"you were the best thing that ever happened to me." she barely hears her own voice over the rush of blood in her ears, the way her heart won't slow down.

your fingers tremble. you pull her down into a kiss, deep and aching, something that tastes like grief and anger and love all wrapped into one desperate moment.

and she lets you.

because this isn't just about relief.

it's about coming back to each other after almost losing everything.

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 —

cassandra cain has always lived in silence.

she was raised in it, trained in it. she knew how to exist without words, how to communicate without speaking, how to say everything and nothing in a single movement. she never needed a voice to make herself understood.

until the moment she thought she was dying, and there was no one there to listen. until she called you and you didn't answer.

now, standing in front of you, she sees it all. the tension in your body, the breath caught in your chest, the way your hands twitch like they don't know whether to reach for her or hold yourself together. you are frozen.

she understands.

for her, it has been hours. for you, it has been days. days of emptiness. days of waiting. days of holding onto nothing but a voicemail that should have never been her last words. days of grief that already settled into your bones.

cass knows how to read people. she always has. but she has never needed to read you—not really. she always knew what you felt, always understood you in a way no one else did.

but right now, you are a storm she cannot predict.

and she hates it.

she should move. should say something. but she doesn't. because she doesn't know how. she doesn't know how to fix the way you're looking at her like she is a ghost, like she is a memory still playing tricks on you.

your lips part - a shaky inhale, like you want to speak, like you can't.

but you move.

it's not slow. not careful. it's desperate, frantic, raw, your body crashing into hers like impact is the only way to convince yourself she is real. your hands grip at her arms, shaking, your fingers tightening against her skin like you need to feel the solid weight of her beneath them.

and cass doesn't move.

she lets you pull at her, lets you press into her, lets you shake against her, lets you breathe her in, lets you hold onto her like she is the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

then, just as suddenly, you shove her back.

it's not enough to hurt. not really. but it's enough to force space between you, enough to make her see the way your body trembles, the way your breath shakes, the way you are barely keeping yourself upright.

"you called me."

your voice is wrecked. shaky. strained. barely holding together.

cass doesn't breathe.

you swallow hard, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

"you said you didn't have enough words." your voice cracks, but you don't stop. "you said you wished you had more time."

cass's throat is tight.

because she remembers.

the way her voice had broken, the way her fingers had been too weak to text, the way she had listened to your phone ring and ring - the way she thought she would never see you again.

your breath shudders, your hands shaking.

"i lived with that."

three words. three words that carry the weight of everything she put you through.

cass's jaw locks. she hates this. hates that she did this to you. hates that you had to sit in that silence alone, waiting for something that never came.

your shoulders rise and fall, unsteady, your body caught between grief and relief, between fury and something too fragile to name.

then your hands move.

fingers shaking, you reach for her again, gripping at her shirt, at her arms, at anything solid. and she lets you.

her hands come up, gentle, steady, slipping over yours, anchoring you there. she presses her forehead to yours, breath warm, pulse too fast.

"i'm here," she whispers, voice soft, barely above a breath. "i'm here."

your hands tighten and you kiss her.

it's not soft. it's not careful. it's aching, raw, desperate - your fingers curled into the fabric of her uniform, your breath shaky against her lips, like you need to steal the air from her lungs just to convince yourself she is real.

and cass lets you.

because this isn't just relief.

this is rebuilding.

this is coming back.

𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 —

duke thomas has always been the one who makes it through.

he survives. that's what he does. no matter how bad things get, no matter how dark, no matter how much the world tries to strip him down to nothing - he finds a way.

this time should've been no different.

except for the part where he had to leave you with nothing but a voicemail that should have never been his last words.

and now, as he stands in the doorway, bruised, aching, breath catching in his chest as he sees you freeze at the sight of him, he realizes - survival doesn't erase what he put you through.

for him, it's been hours. for you, it's been days.

days of waiting. days of staring at your phone, replaying his voice over and over because it was all you had left. days of grief settling into your bones, of thinking you lost him.

and now, just like that - he's here.

your breath catches, your hands twitch at your sides, and your eyes burn with something he can't quite name. not yet. not until-

"you said ‘never mind.'"

your voice is sharp. furious.

duke stills. that wasn't what he expected. he thought - relief, maybe. maybe even anger. but this? this is something deeper.

"you were dying, and you just-" you exhale, ragged, frayed at the edges, barely holding together. "you just said ‘never mind' like- like that was supposed to be okay?"

your breath shudders, your hands curling into fists, knuckles white. your entire body is vibrating with tension, like you are holding yourself back from either breaking apart or breaking him.

and duke gets it.

he left you with unfinished words, with a sentence that should have never ended like that.

he made you live with that.

"i-" he stops, his throat tight, his ribs aching with the weight of everything unspoken. there is nothing he can say to fix it. nothing that will undo what you went through.

so instead, he moves.

it's slow, cautious, like approaching something fragile, something dangerous. his hands reach for yours, not to pull, not to take - just to offer.

and for a second, you don't move. then you take it.

your fingers clutch at his like they're the only thing keeping you tethered. and duke lets you.

he pulls you in, arms wrapping around you, breath unsteady, body aching, but he doesn't care. because this? this is real.

and when your breath stutters against his collar, when your hands fist into his jacket, when your entire body shakes against him - he just holds on tighter.

because he made it back.

and now, he isn't letting go.

𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

you have done this before. you have lived through this exact moment; the grief, the silence, the weight of waiting for a confirmation that never comes soon enough. you have stood in this very place, body frozen, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation, staring at bruce wayne like he is something impossible.

like he is a ghost standing in your doorway, back from the dead.. again.

the first time nearly killed you.

the second time unraveled you.

the third time- you swore you wouldn't survive it.

and now? now, after all the pain, after all the nights spent gripping onto your phone like it was the last piece of him, listening to the sound of his voice tell you he was never coming bac, you don't know if you can do this anymore.

you don't know if you can keep coming back from this. from him.

bruce doesn't move. neither do you.

he watches you with careful, measured stillness, but you don't need to read his body language to know what he's thinking. he can see it in you. in the way your fingers twitch at your sides like you're restraining yourself from touching him. in the way your chest rises and falls too fast, breath sharp, like you're on the edge of something dangerous. like this moment is the one that might finally break you.

his lips part, a slow inhale filling the silence. preparing. bracing himself to speak.

but you break first.

your hands slam into his chest, shoving him back - not enough to move him, not really, but enough to make him feel it. enough to make him understand.

he lets you.

lets you shove him again, fingers curling into his jacket, barely restraining the urge to grab onto him instead of pushing him away.

"you said it wasn't my fault." the words are jagged, torn straight from the rawest part of you.

bruce doesn't react.

not outwardly. not in a way anyone else would see. but you know him. you know the slight twitch in his jaw, the flicker of something behind his eyes, the way his breath leaves him just a little too slow.

"i heard you," you continue, voice shaking, anger curling beneath the grief like something waiting to consume you whole. "i listened to every single fucking word. i memorized it. i let it sink into me, let it rip me apart, let it be the only thing left of you. and you-"

your voice catches, breaking under the weight of your own fury.

bruce waits. because he knows.

he knows what comes next.

you shake your head, fists tightening against the fabric of his uniform, eyes burning.

"i can't do this again."

his breath shudders just slightly.

it's the smallest thing, the most imperceptible crack in a man who has spent his entire life keeping himself untouchable. but you catch it. because you are the only person who ever does.

you inhale sharply, hands trembling now, the fight in you cracking under the unbearable weight of reality.

"i can't keep losing you."

bruce doesn't break easily. not in battle. not under threat. not when he's been pushed to the edge of death itself. but now - standing here, listening to you say those words - he feels something in himself shatter.

"i know." his voice is rough, low, carrying the weight of an apology he doesn't know how to say. "i know."

your breath catches, a sharp, broken sound.

your hands stop pushing; they pull.

desperate, aching, yanking him down, fists curled into his jacket, dragging him closer because you don't know how else to convince yourself that he is real. that this isn't just another cruel trick of your mind, another night spent dreaming of a reality where he made it home to you.

bruce moves then. finally.

his arms wrap around you, secure, unshakable, unwavering. his breath ghosts against your temple, his grip firm, like he needs to hold you together because he knows he is the one who keeps breaking you.

for a long moment, neither of you speak.

because there is nothing left to say.

he has already told you he loves you.

and you already know.

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suskz · 8 months ago

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no i.n. fics is crazy.. he's so pookie

well ill be the first then 😼 i.n. x reader where like, everyone in skz knows they like each other except them cause they're both stupid losers pining? make the fluff so sweet that I lose all my teeth from cavities (im mentally insane)

tyty love ya babes 💋

Just friends?

pairing: Jeongin x fem!Reader

w/c: 2,5k

t/w: fluff ; Jeongin is just a cute little baby bread ; friends can kiss ; innie is a sucker for physical touch (yours).

a/n: I’M BAAACK (I guess???) Y’ALL!! *awkward silence*. We all love soft clingy innie! I’m so, so sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy!

It’s so sudden that both of you jump slightly in place. The door opens, and the voice is heard in the room —if not throughout the entire apartment— before the figure can even be seen: “Stop fucking!” It’s Changbin’s voice, loud and clear, “And do something useful, it’s your turn to go grocery shopping today.” His tone lowers, becoming normal.

You’re half-lying on the bed while Jeongin has his head resting on your chest and one leg thrown over yours, as you both scroll through your phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos you find.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at his words and groans, “Do we really have to?” He complains.

You, on the other hand, have flushed cheeks and try to discreetly hide your ears.

“Actually,” the older one begins, thinking, “Y/n doesn’t have to because she did it last week. You get up and go now; there’s nothing in the fridge.”

At his words, Jeongin’s hands tighten around your sweatshirt into fists, and his face snaps in your direction, “No, you’re coming with me, right?” He asks so quickly it seems desperate. And it’s phrased as a question, but you don’t really have a choice; he would take you with him anyway.

You smirk, “Aw, is baby afraid to go to the supermarket alone?” You pout at him playfully and take his face in your hands.

He pouts like a child, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling at his cuteness, but you fail, and your lips curve upward.

“Since you’re teasing me, I’ll go ask Hyunjin hyung to come with me.” He holds back from calling you a ‘jerk’, but just as he gets up, you pull him back down and place an arm over his body to stop him from leaving.

“Is baby upset now?” You hold back a laugh that would only annoy him more.

“Let me go.” He demands, even though he could easily leave on his own since you’re not really putting much strength into your hold.

“Chill, I’ll come with you.”

He doesn’t change his expression and doesn’t say anything in response. You place your hand on his head and ruffle his hair energetically, messing it up, and he starts squirming under your touch.

His eyes squeeze shut, his lips form a thin line, and his nose scrunches up.

“Get a room.” Changbin teases, and although his voice sounds disgusted, you can clearly sense the little smile on his lips.

You stop moving your hand, “We’re already in a room.” you state.

“Ah, right, I’ll just leave then.” he says just before closing the door and walking away quickly, his footsteps clearly audible to the both of you.

“I hate you.” Jeongin mutters as he fixes his hair.

“You love me.” You smile, turning your eyes back to your phone screen.

His eyes linger on you for a few seconds, his movements stopping. A sparkle passes through them, and a thought, ‘Yes, I do’, runs through his mind, but he quickly hides it, afraid that you might read it in his eyes —even though you’re not even looking at him.

He quickly settles back next to you on the bed, this time lying a bit farther from you, turned in the opposite direction from where you’re sitting. You give him a confused look, even though he can’t see you.

“I think I’ll take a nap, I’m tired.” he mutters with his eyes closed.

You don’t comment on the fact that he didn’t seem so tired a little while ago; instead, you move closer to him and place your face in front of his.

His eyes open, “What?” he asks, sounding more annoyed than he meant to.

You pucker your lips, “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” you ask.

“Always so demanding.” he rolls his eyes with a smirk, lifting his head slightly to give you a quick peck on the lips before resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes again.

You smile with satisfaction. You really find it sweet that the two of you share this kind of intimacy in friendship. You don’t even remember how it started; you just know that by now, it’s not strange to see the two of you share a quick kiss on various occasions, even in simple moments like this one.

After all, what’s a quick peck between friends?

You sit back up with him facing away from you.

And you watch him, maybe for a moment too long because he speaks, “I can see that you’re staring,” he states, “What are you daydreaming about?” he asks you with a mischievous grin.

You feel a sense of embarrassment, and your cheeks heat up. “I just want to touch your hair, it’s so soft.” you admit.

“Heh, I know. Do you like my new haircut?” he asks you with a curious smile, turning to look at you.

“Too much.” you reply, feeding off his happiness and pride.

Then, eventually, you gently thread your fingers through his soft hair, feeling him relax and lean into your touch.

You know perfectly well how much he loves having his hair stroked —even though he claims otherwise— and how much it helps him fall asleep.

You smile and decide to join him, lying down behind him and wrapping your arms around his body.

Jeongin feels his body grow warmer and his stomach flip, but he remains still and relaxes when one of your hands intertwines with his fingers, soon falling asleep in your arms.

—

“Oh, shit.” Jeongin mutters, watching the heavy rain outside from inside the supermarket.

“We don’t have an umbrella, do we?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

That’s why you find yourselves running through the heavy rain, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

You’re soaked from head to toe, and the sidewalk is so slippery that it was inevitable you’d fall.

Jeongin stops and quickly reaches you to help, “Aish, you’re so clumsy!” He bends down to give you a hand, first moving his hair out of his face.

“I’m slowing you down,” you lift your head and extend an arm towards him in a gesture of surrender, “You go on ahead, soldier; I’ll carry on when I have the strength,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

His stunned expression makes you burst into the laughter you were holding back. He watches the way your face crinkles and hears your voice rise so loudly that it’s clearly audible over the sound of the rain, which has become just background noise.

And it’s as if a ray of sunshine has settled right above you, just the two of you, with your clear voice managing to brighten even the worst moments.

Your laughter causes him to laugh as well, and he collapses onto the ground in front of you, ending up on his knees.

And it’s so sudden that for a moment it frightened you, that warmth you felt in your chest upon hearing his vibrant voice and seeing his almost carefree, smiling expression.

“Come on, get up now, we can’t stay here.” He says gently, helping you to your feet.

You sigh in frustration, “I can’t, my shoes are hurting my feet.” You admit, letting a small plea show in your voice, hoping he might help you, giving him puppy eyes.

And so, for the rest of the way home, he runs and you ride on his back.

He was actually about to leave you there and continue on his own, but in the end, he took pity on you after your persistent pleading.

“You’re so exhausting!” He complains when you both cross the apartment door.

You giggle, sniffling, and thank him. “I owe you a favor.”

“You say that every time.” He gives you a look, “I’m going to take a shower, don’t bother me until I’m done.”

Seungmin appears just as Jeongin is leaving, “Woah.” He turns to you, “Did you walk in the rain?”

“We ran in the rain.” You correct him, emphasizing the word ‘ran’.

“I ran in the rain.” Jeongin states before turning the corner and heading into the bathroom.

At the thought of what happened only a little while ago, you feel your cheeks strangely warm up and a sense of embarrassment spread inside you. A peculiar embarrassment, especially for something like this.

Seungmin looks at you, and something flashes in his eyes, something you haven’t seen and wouldn’t have known how to interpret, “Do you like Jeongin?” he asks suddenly, so directly.

You should deny it, you know you should, but something inside you clicks with his words; hundreds of thoughts surrounded by a cloud of doubts.

You remain silent, perhaps for a second too long, and your answer seems to confuse you even more than you already are, “I don’t know.”

—

When Jeongin is sick, he’s always so dramatic. He always claims he’s dying from a headache, feeling faint, and lacking the strength to get out of bed.

All this for just a simple cold.

This time, you think back to all those times he’s said similar things, and you consider that he might not be entirely wrong. Maybe it’s the intense sensations he experiences that are making him seem delirious.

Why else would he wrap his arms around you, holding you from behind in such an intimate and affectionate way in front of others, if not unconsciously?

Anyone could walk into the kitchen and see you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Jeongin always claims he has a certain reputation to maintain and apparently, because of that, he can’t be too cuddly with you —though you don’t understand how that makes sense, you don’t complain about it. And Minho is even in the kitchen right now, but your sweet Jeongin doesn’t seem to care, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Jeongin? Shouldn’t you be in bed now?” you ask, pausing for a second from stirring the hot broth in the pot on the stove, then resuming.

“I want you to stay in bed with me.” he admits.

“You don’t need me, to rest.” you assert, secretly melting at his touch and snuggling into his embrace with heated cheeks.

“And what if I told you that I do?”

Your heart skips a beat, and if he notices you stiffen in his arms, he doesn’t say anything.

“Go on, pretend I’m not here.” Minho comments sarcastically, but he’s ignored by both of you.

Jeongin whines, “Oh, come on! Come to bed with me! What’s the harm?” He whimpers like a child.

“I’m cooking you something to make you feel better; I can’t just leave it here.” You explain to him.

“Can’t Minho hyung take care of it?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching the inviting warm broth, speaking of the older one as if he weren’t there with you.

“I’m still here.” Minho chimes in for the second time, perhaps a bit annoyed by his behavior, and you turn in his direction, giving him an apologetic smile on behalf of the younger one.

“Minho is teaching me the recipe. I want to cook it myself, and you’ll tell me what you think.” You place one of your hands on his, an affectionate gesture, though slightly hesitant, and he seems to lean more into you, relaxing even more.

“I want to rest my head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat relaxes me.” He admits, ending the sentence in a whisper, and moves one of his hands to your chest, over your heart, “Oh, it’s beating a bit fast right now, are you alright?” He asks in a clearly concerned voice, turning to look at your face, but you turn your head away so he won’t see your obvious blush.

“Yes! I-I’m fine.” you stutter, shrinking away and squirming in his hold while he tries in every way to get a look at your face.

You hate how insistent he can be at times like this.

“Alright, lovebirds, at least try not to kiss in front of me; have some mercy on my eyes.” Minho rolls his eyes but can’t hide the grin forming on his lips.

“We’ve already done it.” Jeongin reminds him, and you ponder on whether you should feel embarrassed or just treat it as the normal thing it is —at least for the two of you.

Jeongin thinks you need a reminder, so he cups your chin in his hand, gently placing his fingers on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours. It’s such a quick, chaste, simple gesture; so usual, yet you feel quivers in your stomach, a gentle flutter that whispers things you don’t feel ready to admit to yourself, voices you’re afraid to listen to.

When he pulls away, he has a proud grin on his lips, and you feel a strong urge to hit him in the face. But with your lips. Gently. Because you want more this time; more of him, his soft pink lips, the warmth his body gives you, that silly but beautiful face.

Shit.

“Wipe that dumb smile off your face.” you say playfully, pulling away and returning to that damn broth.

“But you love this dumb face, admit it.”

‘Yes, I do’ is what you want to say, but it’s maybe because of what you felt a moment ago that you avoid letting those words leave your lips. “You’d better go back to your room before you start feeling worse.” You warn him.

“Come to think of it, I’m feeling dizzy.” Jeongin says, cursing under his breath. He follows your advice and heads back to his room, but not before throwing you one last look, saving that cute, rare moment of concentration —now focused on the broth— in his mind, with a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Go to him,” you look up at Minho, who had already been watching you. A little smile forms on his lips, “I saw how you look at each other, and I’m never wrong,” he explains, “Now come on, go to him.” Minho gently but insistently pushes you out of the kitchen.

It was too indirect for you to be entirely convinced by what he said, but you hope it’s what you think. You don’t know when this started, why it happened, or if what you feel is real.

But every doubt seems to disappear from your mind when those words leave his glossy lips in the darkness of his room, his chest firmly pressed against your back, his warm breath on your neck, his arms wrapped around your body in a hold that whispers a fear of losing you.

And you don’t know if they are truly meant or if they came out in a moment of confusion and he actually meant something with a lesser meaning.

But what you know is that you feel exactly what was softly whispered into your ear —words said with a barely audible voice that you felt as a scream.

“I’m in love with you.”

#jeongin #i.n #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #jeongin fluff #i.n fluff #i.n fanfic #jeongin fanfic #stray kids i.n #stray kids jeongin #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader fluff #friends to lovers

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unnerving-presence · 1 year ago

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Hi, i just read the coochie unhooking and im in love omg 🥲💕 could we have another part with the huntress, pyra and a third one of your choice? Thank you, you're the best 👀💕

GAGAGAGGH YESSSS I LOVE THESE 😭 TARHOS HAS BEEN INFESTING MY BRAIN SO HE WILL BE THE LUCKY THIRD !!

ooc shit incoming this is literally abt them loving them thighs i do not gaf i tried to make them in character somewhat anyways hehe

could you tell i’m utterly obsessed w tarhos right now i wished i could’ve written more dear lord

i had already written this for huntress initially but i did want to revise it a bit to be more in character. still sort of experimenting with it all. enjoy though :)

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Anna:

Straight confusion and a.. little bit of panic? She’s never had her prey attempt something like what you did. It catches her so off guard she practically thrashes around as much as you do to get you off of her. She doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable and very much does not appreciate it when you manage to escape the hook and her alike. She can’t shake that ghostly feeling of your thighs around her. It’s like you’re still there. She can’t discern whether she likes the feeling or not.

You’re interesting prey, prey that she enjoys hunting. She mostly does it for necessity and to please the Entity, but she likes you. She likes that. She especially likes your drive to survive. It amuses her, makes her curious about you. Anna would be angry about the ordeal thinking about it, but it simply makes her intrigued now. She simply can’t brush aside the concept of your thighs around her. It was like a warm embrace she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She likes it.

She decides she will observe you more. Watch as you speak in a language she doesn’t understand and interact with those she sees as nothing more than human animals. You’re afraid, but you’re also determined. It’s cute. Perhaps she’ll conveniently place herself near the hook she puts you on next time, just to feel you fight to survive, just to feel those thighs around her again.

Pyramid Head:

Pyramid Head would have absolutely never expected this to happen.. ever? Considering his absolute fridge of a head he’s.. startled to say the least that you managed to both effectively wrap your thighs around him AND have enough leg strength to take him down AND unhook yourself. It doesn’t all come to mind at first but he’s definitely a bit aroused. Unfortunately, that is an emotion that fades quite quickly. He has a job to do, he would very much like to get back to that. If he could get back up from the ground from his big ass helmet holding him down 😭

Pyramid Head is simply indifferent about the situation. A tiny bit excited at the though, but would quickly move on. It would certainly stay in his mind if you had done it several times over though. Some part of him is glad he has this unbearable helmet over his head, he might have had a full system shutdown had your thighs gotten too close to his face, though your thighs being around him in the first place is more than enough to turn him on a bit, not that he acts on it of course. He prioritizes his role in this realm more than anything else.

Though he won’t pass up the opportunity to listen to your cries of pain if given the chance. They didn’t mean much to him before. But now he rather likes the sound. He’d even say he rather likes you more than anything else. Maybe he should stick extra close to you from now on. Perhaps you’ll try other suggestive methods of trying to escape him. Either way, it feeds into his desire to punish and his desire for you.

Tarhos Kovács:

Tarhos is trained for moments like this, when the enemy has the upper hand. He cut through hundreds of swordsmen far more experienced than you could ever wish to be. He wields his imposing claymore and knows he strikes fear into those that dare cross him. He is anything but one to be so easily defeated. It should’ve been impossible for him to be taken down by someone in such a pathetic position as yourself. It has to be the Entity’s assistance. It has to be. He can barely get himself together again before you dash up the stairs and out of his reach. He grumbles and pushes himself up off the ground, more determined than ever to put you in your place.

You don’t survive the trial, but it’s very clear you did something to him. He’s angry, but there’s some other emotion, like a smoldering fire that was once not even worth a passing glance had suddenly burst into a wildfire. It could be confused with bloodlust. He can barely tell the difference between the two until he sees you again by the campfire next to those worthless maggots. He watches only for a moment and in that moment he wants more. He wants more of whatever you did to him.

He will never come to terms with these feelings. He believes it’s your fault. Your existence shouldn’t even be welcomed in this place. You can so easily disrupt the balance of death, sacrifice, bloodshed. He wants nothing to do with you if you think you can deter him from his rightful privilege of endlessly butchering such peasants as yourself. He hates you more than he hates Vittorio, he thinks. Vittorio was an imbecile who thought he had the answers to peace. But you? God, you actually do something to him and you don’t even have to try.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #the huntress x reader #dbd anna x reader #pyramid head x reader #tarhos kovács x reader

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dark-night-hero · 6 months ago

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Hi. Hope you are well. Is your request open? Can I request a soft Kayden moment since he is not open to having any children (I don't know where I have read it, if it's on an interview or other au/ffs). What if his partner, a non-awakened woman got pregnant? Anxiety creeps her up, it's another weakness for him. A soft, reassuring moment please. Or however you like.

Thank you. Have a blessed day!

Five seconds. It took you five seconds of happiness only to be filled with nothing but pure anxiety and fear afterwards. Looking at the two lines that seems to stare right back at you, you felt your heart sink. It was supposed to be one of the joyful moments within your heart and it did, only for five seconds only to felt the weight that comes with it. What are you going to do? Your hand unconsciously reach out and grip on your stomach.

Four months. It took Kayden four months to find out where you are. With how things turned out after clashing with three of the world's top ten and his new found apprentice. It took him four months to track down where you are. All because you stopped communicating back at him. He was mad, sure, but he was also worried. It was normal for you to move out and went under the radar, that was natural. He knew how dangerous he was and the possible danger that he might put you through. Thats why in the first month of no contact, he thought it was only natural, but as months went by and there was still no reply, he started to grew anxious. Did something happened to you? Oh the way you make him feel the impossible.

Four months, it took him four months to find you hiding under the cover as you curl up on your bed. "Can you just-! Just talk to me?" He was getting impatient. He doesn't even know why you were ignoring him, why you seemed afraid to face him, why you won't talk to him. He was about to close the door of your bed room, giving you no room to escape just in case you- "Don't..." "???" "Don't close the door." Fuck. Were you crying?

When it comes to relationship, Kayden was more of a doer than a talker. His mouth... his foul mouthed, so instead of replying, he could only let out a huff and open the door that he was about to close and then proceeds to walk towards the bed where he sat down at the end of. "What now?"

You were thinking, hesitating. You knew Kayden never wanted a child. He always avoided talking about them. Right now, you were wondering what to do, what to say, what to feel, what he would feel. You knew how difficult, how different both of your worlds are. Still, if there is a little hope, was it so bad to hold on into it? "Kayden." Your heart was beating heavily on your chest, hand on your small baby bump. You're four months pregnant but it wasn't even noticeable. "I'm pregnant." He swore he heard you say Im sorry.

Kayden was more of a doer than a yapper when it comes to you. He knew how he could say something hurtful and taunting in the heat of the moment. He never did that with you, well, at least he doesn't to that to you now. So as his mouth was about to say something, he manage to control himself and shut the fuck up.

You're pregnant. It took him five seconds to process that, followed by seconds for him to feel anger filling up his chest, anxiety and fear. Lastly, he felt his sense of happiness within his chest. Kayden never wanted a child, it was never in his mind. He doesn't even know his parents, let alone his birthday. As far as he can recall he grew up all alone with no one but himself to depend on. He never wanted a child, in the world he grew up in, it was harsh, dangerous and restricted. A world where those who has the power stand on top. But ever since he met you... once in a while, he thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a child that looks like you.

Nevertheless, he was scared. He was anxious. And so he starts to look around, noticing your shaking figure under the cover, realizing he has been long silent because lets face it. He truly never wanted a child. But it was also true that a child that looks like you wasn't bad. But he doesn't know what to say. He was contemplating on what to say. And then his eyes fell upon the open door, once again, he had the urge to close it, knowing how you don't like to leave it open, why was it even open- ah. It was never about you leaving, it was about him leaving. Giving him the choice to walk out of the door without you hearing the painful sound of the door slaming behind him.

You turned stiff upon the upon lightness of the end of the bed where Kayden once was sitting at. And so you felt your heart break in title pieces. You did not even bother to remove the bed sheet that was covering you to look at him, you did not want to see nor hear him leave, that was the reason why you asked him to keep the door open. And although you did see that coming, it still hurts. It hurts so much- meow.

Kayden is more of a doer than a talker when it comes to you. So instead of saying things that might end up upsetting and hurting you. He transformed into his cat form and went under the covers with you, and before you could even react, he went under the covers and started nuzzling close to you. "Ka-kayden?" You utter, was about to sit up when he started licking your tears, and even though it hurts, you are more shocked at the fact that he was here. He did not left, that he in fact have stayed. And as if saying everything will be okay, he just nuzzled on your neck.

You are confused, why. Why is here? How could he be here? This would be just another weakness for him. He already was having a hard time keeping you away from the world, what more could it possibly be now that you're having a child-

"It's okay." You open your eyes only to find a pair of blue ones already looking at you. "You're okay." You felt him caress your cheek before he gently pressed his forehead upon yours as you close your eyes. "We'll be okay." As soon as he said that, a tears escaped from your eyes. "It'll be okay." You felt him caress your baby bump.

: why does it feel like I made Kayden so OOC, then again, I think I did my best portraying what could he possibly done in that scenario 🤔

#dark night hero #eleceed fanfic #eleceed x reader #eleceed kayden #eleceed #eleceed imagine #eleceed angst #eleceed imagines #eleceed fluff #kayden x reader #kayden break #kayden imagine #kayden break x reader #eleceed kayden break #kayden break imagines #kayden imagines

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love-byers · 2 months ago

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You can tell that some Milkvan’s have never had someone they’re close to come out to them before because Mike’s whole storyline is exactly like watching someone in your friend group or your family slowly figure out their sexuality. We don’t have the full picture and we’re not going to until he allows it. I think Milkvan’s expect him to be more obvious or something if he was queer but those people seem to forget that he’s a gay kid in the 80’s. This isn’t some Love, Simon-esque film where the whole school is going to clap for him when he finally comes out and gets the guy. It’s gonna be more like pitchforks and torches all “hunt the freak” like they did to Eddie. It was scary when I came out in 2018. It’s still nerve racking to come out now in 2025. In the 80’s, I can imagine it would feel absolutely terrifying just to think that you might be different than those around you. You have no one to turn to or confide in. Any library article or newspaper would be filled with horrifying details, slurs, death, or just spewing some religious bullshit. Nothing helpful or positive. Theres no GSA at school. There’s no nice queer corner of the internet with a helpful “Am I gay quiz?” like in Heartstopper. Just a kid with confusing feelings in a homophobic town with no one to guide him. Mike’s story is the most genuine depiction of internalized homophobia I’ve ever seen in a character. Mike and Will’s love story is beautiful and honest and I wish more people would open their eyes and see it instead of blindly believing in a story that has already been told time and time again. Representation matters. Good representation matters more. Calling us delusional just fuels the problem.

yes yes yes

most of the toxic milevens i encounter are extremely ignorant to the queer experience and queer history. they don't understand just how dangerous it was for gay men in the 80s, and they have no sensitivity towards it. i saw one in a tiktok comment section say "if mike is gay why would he date a girl instead of will??" ...........................

they don't understand that will is representing a very significant aspect of the 80s, that ofc being queerness during the aids epidemic. they've acknowledged that will has been called slurs TO HIS FACE since he was a small child. the whole town assumed he had been HATE CRIMED. they've reinforced it to the point that it would be DIABOLICAL to give will a sad or bitter sweet ending. because they didn't just make him gay, he had to be in love with mike too. they've shown that will has been called queer his entire life, before he even met mike. his love for mike wasn't used to reveal his sexuality, they did that through the bullying and moments like the girl playing footsie with him in s4. his feelings for mike were not necessary. will's arc could've simply been about him being afraid that his friends won't accept him and masking it to them and mike for that reason. but no, on top of everything else, he had to be in love with mike. like im sorry but getting rejected would contribute absolutely nothing to his arc

also, will and mike are interesting as queer characters (assuming mike is queer ofc) because they are representing the different kind of experiences. will is queer, and the world assumed he was queer too. mike is queer, but the world assumed he was straight. it is unfortunately easier to realize your sexuality when you've had it spouted in your face since you were a small child. we haven't really been shown that will struggled to realize or accept his sexuality at any point. the only person with that coding is mike wheeler. who, like i said, the world (for the most part) assumed was straight. it is a different experience when you have no one pointing it out like will did, mike realizing his sexuality has to come completely from his own internal battle. and it's really difficult, especially given that mike was deep into a relationship when he realized, or at least started suspecting it. mike was the one being weird at the airport and rink o mania because he's in crisis mode internally. will isn't, will knows who he is and has probably known it in some way for a while. that just isn't mike's experience, so of course it will be different for him. milevens think that because he wasn't portrayed exactly how will was queer coding wise means that he's not gay. like i said, they have little understanding of the queer experience it seems

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #anti mileven

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arllyyweenie · 6 months ago

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Okay so this is my first ever stiles S/Void smut hope you guys enjoy!

Warning:name calling, fingering, pussy licking

word count :1,358

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Ever since you noticed stiles was acting weirder per usual, you have been worried for him. Ever since the pack has told you about the supernatural world and about the Nogitsune it hasn’t left your mind..

Stiles hasn’t left your mind, you’re his best friend and it gives you rights to worry about him. You were walking over to stiles house to check up on him obviously you were on his porch knocking on the door it was night time. At first he didn’t answer. You knock again and he opens the door. “Y/n What are you doing here?” He asked as he stepped aside for you can come inside his house. “You need to tell me what’s going on. I know that your possessed by a fucking 1,000 year old spirt” you said in a worried voice. He softly smiled at you, watching you worried but then his smile dropped when void told him something in his thoughts.

“Can I just. Spend the night here stiles please I need to know your okay.” You said looking at him with your doe eyes that always had him weak to his stomach everytime he looked at you. He started to look at you like he wanted to fuck the shit out of you. Obviously you could tell

But yet didn’t say anything and just ignored it. “Yeah Y/n you can stay” he said smirking at you thinking of all the stuff you guys can do before going to sleep. “Good cause.. I wasn’t gonna take a no for an answer” you said and then walked up stairs to his room. Stiles behind you closing the door and locking it. Then walking up the stairs to his room with you. you guys get inside stiles room he takes off his shirt putting on one of his more comfortable outfits.

you just look at while trying to find what to say to him. "So how are you feeling right now?" you said slowly and quietly. " Im amazing." he said in a raspy tone of voice imaging so many ways of fucking you. "That's good," you said breathing out heavy stiles then passes an oversized shirt to you and pants when he gave you them, you notice something different about him. his eyes they're darker than usual and he looks more tired than he was before. "what's wrong, dove" he said in a low voice you shook your

head "nothing just.. thinking- um we should sleep y'know we got school and a test too..." you said messing up your words a bit. He then just nodded agreeing with you.

Later on around 5am you woke up to stiles standing up above you "stiles what's wrong-" you said before you got interrupted "oh y/n, you know what's happening don't act dumb around me love." he said you then noticed it was stiles who you were talking to but expect it was void.. you gulped you were trying not to make any sudden of movements to make him see your afraid or scared. since you were still laying down he hovered over you, you being on bottom and him on top you can't lie you liked it, in fact it made you feel stuff you haven't felt. "you want to get fucked? huh you little slut" void said as he was teasing you taking off your pants. you breathe out heavily and whine, rocking your hips for any touch you can get from him.

you moaned out since you got a little of his touch "fuck void.." you said moving your hand to his shirt gripping on it. He then starts to move your panties to the side as he spits in his ring and middle finger. He moved his Two fingers close to your mouth. “Spit on them.” He commanded. So you did.. you do it. You spit on his finger and he just smirks at you. He takes his Two fingers and inserts it into your tight wet pussy you moaned softly, his eyes then drift to yours. All you can see is lust in his eyes, craving every inch of your body aswell. "f-fuck.. void" you said in a moan, you softly bit your lip. "You like that don't you? you liked being my little slut..?" he said, thrusting his fingers in and out of you fast. you wanted to say something but couldn't you just moan in response, "Shit am I really that powerful Dove?" He said he leaned into your neck kissing while leaving love bites. you had your eyes closed enjoying each moment you had with him, sure it was wrong but you couldn't help it.

void then started too finger your clit with his thumb and you moaned out loud "fucking shit!" you moaned out loud he then starts thrusting in faster and faster his thumb still circling around your clit as you were chasing your own climax. He starts kissing you everywhere and all over your neck leaving multiple hickeys. "V-void.." you said whining "I know you're close, cum for me let me taste your sweet, sweet cum love" he said as you cum on his fingers you scratch his back obviously he didn't care.. All he wanted was for you to be satisfied with his touch. After that he slips out your fingers and licked you cum "you taste good dove." he said. he then bent down on you to your wet pussy. he kisses your thigh near your pussy then kisses your pussy you moaned again. he starts licking your pussy, near your clit and then slides his tongue inside your pussy. you moan loud "Fuck!" you moaned out loud void then smirks, "you like that dove" he said in a raspy voice. you felt the vibrations by him talking. you start getting close again and grip on his fluffy hair. "fuck void!" you moaned out loud your legs started to shake. without a warning you came on his tongue he licks up your cum and backs up he drifts his eyes up to yours you can see his eyes dark and full of fucking lust. he then takes off his pants you can see a little of precum leaking through his underwear. You can see he was hard.. really hard. He then takes out his underwear and you can see his rock hard 9.6 inches.

you gasped softly at the size, how can all of that fucking fit in your pussy? "Don't worry, dove. it'll fit I'll make sure of it" he said clearing up your thoughts that you were thinking you just nodded.

he jerks himself off near your pussy you wanted his dick so fucking bad. "fuck me please..void" you begged him “ y’know stiles is fighting to take control right now. He wants to be the one fucking you instead of me.. so what do you want dove?” He asked.. you stay quiet for a second “I want you fucking me.” He smirked then pounds into your tight pussy he moaned out. “ fuck y/n I didn’t realize you’ll be this fucking tight” he breathed out.

You ignored what he said and you were a hot moaning mess with him. He loved that he had that much control over you.

He keeps thrusting in and out of you, he almost takes out his length, his tip nearly slipped out your entrance. With that, he rammed back into you roughly not giving a damn if it hurts or not. He placed his hands on your hips pinching the skin there as he continued to thrust into you. “Holy shit!” You screamed out, your legs fully shaking and feeling a tight knot in your stomach void groaning at your walls clenching him. You can feel his cock throb inside of your walls, “go ahead and cum dove” he muttered his voice deep and raspy from having sex.

You obeyed his order and cum around his dick, he then cums in you, making you feel his warm cum.“Don’t think I’m over with you yet love.” Void said as he disappeared in thin air leaving you a mess.

#teen wolf #imagine #smut #dylan obrien #stiles stilinski #18+ rp #x reader #x yn #void stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

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blood-grove · 1 year ago

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HOLY HELL? JEEZ GUYS I just saw all the notifs im glad you guys like the second part! <3 i wanted to drop some personally headcanons for the au

also if your seeing this my fic is here ! its about retired dads!soapghost and there newly adopted gn!reader

->Soap is hard of hearing! Being a demolitions expert was gonna catch up with him eventually. He used to try and hide it and avoid it altogether but nowadays he's a bit more open about too close family.

His siblings lighthearted tease him about it now since he's comfortable. It isn't totally hearing loss in his ear but its enough to need a hearing aid.

-> Ghost has a bit of a limp in his step now, There not that old but of course after years of fighting something was bound to give ad it did he broke his leg a few months into retirement while working on the roof that he of so stubbornly said he'd fix.

He wasn't comfortable with some stranger visiting there home and or multiple strangers coming to there home he felt like he could do it.

While he could admittedly despite it all he picked up a bit of interest in home fixing mainly the basics he learned even more as they came close to their retirement.

He wanted to be self-sufficient and wanted to be Johnnys' helpful husband.

But he had to fuck it up, Now that he's healed his leg gives him issues here and there but on some days he can get around just fine on others especially during the rain his joints act up.

-> Soap and Ghost have been happily married for 2 years now! Do you know who proposed first? Ghost!. He totally didn't want to pass out and throw up at the same time as he got one shaky knee and palms sweaty as he barely managed to make his words heard under his mask. Soap nearly barreled him down with how much of a mix of emotions he was trying to process as he said 'Yes'.

Ghost had been nervous through the weeks leading up to it, Asking Soap's Mother for her permission, Finding the perfect spot to pop the question.

There wedding was small stuck to Soap's immediate family even so it was pretty big (saving 2 chairs empty) , Of course they invited the rest of the 141 Laswell included inviting them months ahead.

They were able to stay for a while got caught up with each, drank, and just had fun. Simon had never felt so care free.

-> Simon and John of course went through a lot of therapy after retirement, Both of them having their own lucky little bottles of medicine in their shared bathroom. They had thought about adopting or having a kid through surogate.

They decided on adoption because it'd be cheaper plus they weren't sure if they were up to taking care of an infant, They went with adopting a pre-teen just around the age that they wouldn't do something like stick there finger or forks in outlets or burn themselves on the stove.

Soap still put outlet caps on them though.

-> Simon was nervous to be a parent he was just down right terrified that you would dislike him, think hes weird , or worse be afraid of him.

He's not a all a short or slender guy and that hasn't changed after retirement. His resting bitch face and his mask he'd traded his balaclava with a year back. He was sure he didn't look friendly to approach (which he appreciates sometimes) He wanted to look approachable to you.

But it seemed all that worrying was for nothing the first time you both met you asked about Riley albeit hesitantly, He guessed Soap told you about her.

He was open to talking bout her and you were open to listening.

(dsjvahhdadskaj sorry if there ooc </3)

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon #simon riley #dad john mactavish #dad john soap mactavish #dad simon riley #soap #soapghost #headcanons #drabble #:3 #gn #gn reader #child reader

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fereldanwench · 27 days ago

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you know that witcher meme that's like 'i've lived through 42 supposed ends of time ends of tumblr..."

having been on this site since 2010, that is true. each time something was supposedly the death of tumblr, we still came out through the other side. but each time that's happened, especially in the past couple of years, it has felt like we're getting that much closer to it actually happening. like for realsies this time.

honestly i am surprised it hasn't already happened. each time i see some new update about staff being laid off or matt acting like a clown, i'm anticipating the 'welp, time to close up shop' follow-up. i can't not think about his little temper tantrum during the harassing-a-trans-user era when he was basically like (paraphrased ofc) "if people are gonna be this mean to me, idk if i want to keep running this site." this entirely speculative on my part, but i just cant help but go HMMMMM right now.

a couple of months ago i lost one of my sideblogs randomly--i think based on what i've seen from other people reporting similar inexplicable blog deletions (that absolutely have nothing to do with TOS violations or anything of the like), it probably was a bug that had something to do with my editing my theme. that was the last thing i did before it just went poof, and i've seen a few other people share the same experience

i ofc sent in a report when it happened, back in february, and idk about tumblr's priorities, but i would think a user's account getting wrongfully deleted would be up there. but it's been just about 2 full months and it's been radio silence. i haven't even seen it mentioned on the known issues of the @changes blog even though i know it's happened with some frequency. now knowing that it's basically a skeleton crew running the site, that all makes a lot more sense.

and i was really hyped for the communities when that launched--i felt like it was a feature 10 years overdue, lmao, but i like the communities set up over on pillowfort and thought something similar here would be nice. and i've enjoyed aspects of it, but i think it was launched way too early. there were (and still are) so many basic features that any sort of community system should have that weren't (and still aren't) in place, and so many bugs, omg.

idk, i've just been feeling very disillusioned with tumblr for a while now. like one of my favorite things about tumblr is custom themes, and now i'm afraid to touch them lest i accidentally nuke another blog, lmao. i'm very reluctant now to invest too heavily in the communities feature bc who tf is even monitoring this now.

i've always said i'll go down with the ship if it comes to that, and that is still true, especially since this is the only place i can find just about all my favorite people, but im really running out of steam for this shit.

#t: wench.txt

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catholic-academia-aesthetic · 7 months ago

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hello! i resort to this since I don't have access to a catholic church/guide to ask this type of things. So, here's whats happening: since i was little i always had this admiration towards the Virgin Mary, i always thought that she was beautiful and kind and nowdays i still do, she's like a mother figure for me. But, in the other hand, im extremely scared of God and Jesus. i dont know why, and i feel ashamed to confess it, but I don't feel the same safe and loved with the idea of them like i do with Mary.

Also, im a lesbian, and im even more afraid because of that since i know that religion usually has something against it.

Am I a sinner? Is there a way for me to be less scared of God and Jesus? only beliving in Mary is an actual religion?

Im sorry for bothering, but i really need to start beliving in something because my life is falling apart and i don't want to lose it all. Anyways, I hope this isn't uncomfortable, and i wiah you have a lovely day, afternoon or night! 🩷

hi, thank you for reaching out and sharing all this! I'm sad to hear your life is falling apart, that must be an awful feeling. I'm here for you for whatever it's worth.

There's a lot here so my anwer will obviously be a CliffsNotes version, full of shortcuts and simplifications.

First of all, of course you are a sinner. We all are. Every human in history apart from Mary and Jesus was a sinner. Every saint was a sinner.

I see that you feel close to the Virgin Mary, that her beauty and kindness speaks to you, you admire her. But it doesn't lead you to God, on the contary, you're very afraid of Him.

This makes me wonder where did you learn about Mary? How have you come to know the things that make you admire her? How did you learn she is kind and motherly? What were your sources? Was it genuine Catholic teaching, or maybe some private ideas passed on by someone you know?

Is the person you admire actually Mary, the Mother of God, or is it some vague idea of her built in your or someone else's imagination?

We Catholics admire Mary because of her devotion to God. We admire her courage in agreeing to be the Mother of God and her humility in raising her Son who was God. We admire her because Salvation was made possible through her response and sacrifice.

If you take God out of the picture, what is there left to admire about Mary? Without God there is no Salvation and all of her life choices look rather sad and uninspiring. She's a young woman who had a baby in weird circumstances, then watched him grow into a preacher to be mercilessly tortured and killed for nothing. What's admirable about that? Many women's children were unjustly persecuted but that doesn't make these women worth our admiration. Compassion, yes. But not admiration.

So if you don't want to know God and Jesus, if you're not interested in God's plan for your salvation and in Jesus' sacrifice to bring your salvation about - what do you admire about Mary? If you don't think she did all that for God - what was the point?

Obviously you can't answer me so I'm just leaving all these questions here for you to think about.

The answer to have these things sorted out is good Catholic teaching. It'll take some time, but to really love someone you need to first get to really know them. If you want to love Mary, you need to learn who she is. And if you learn she will eventually point you towards her Son, because that's what she always does. Start with Bishop Barron's videos on Mary on youtube. Word on Fire channel and website has tons of videos and articles to explore. Take a peak at the Catechism. Whatever you do, look for legitimate Catholic teaching, stick to the mainstream. If you learn enough about Mary you'll see Jesus in a new light. Let her lead you to Him.

On a completely different note, this can be a psychological issue. When you say you're 'extremely scared of God and Jesus' it makes me worried. These are very strong words and very strong feelings to be had about this. What makes you feel this? Did someone tell you God is scary and you should be afraid of Him when you were young? Is there something in your life that makes you afraid and distrustful of men in general? Is this a case of bad, fear-based religious teaching you were subjected to? Or is it a case of independent mental issues bleeding into your religious life? Sadly, both happen often and many people share these feelings with you.

If I was your friend, I would advise you to have that looked at by a psychologist-type person. If you're clear on that front you can move to learing and Marian theology with a peace of mind. Whether you decide to do the psychological consultation or not, I would also advise you to find a spiritual guide. It can be a priest but it can also be nun, I imagine that could make you feel more comfortable. If there aren't any where you live you can literally find 5 or 10 female religious orders online and just shoot them an email. Just copy what you wrote to me if you don't feel like writing an new message. Ask for help, guidance. Maybe you can go visit them for a few days. See what they say.

You can always message me, but in your difficult situation you need more support, you need irl people to help you through this. You need them to be smarter and better at this than I am. Again, thank you for sharing all this vulnerable stuff. I hope my answer was helpful. I will be praying for you through Mary's intercession!

#besties pray with me #blessed virgin mary

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bpdconfessions · 18 hours ago

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my boyfriend (fp & long distance relationship) has started getting close with his ex (comparing themselves to romantic art/characters, matching as romantic characters, having “I love you (exes name)” as their statuses, & flirting “jokingly”,) & he got mad at me for not bringing it up sooner , called my feelings/worries about him cheating 'bullshit', & then tried to shift the conversation so that he’s the victim because I “left him in the dark” about my feelings and it hurts him that I didn’t communicate sooner.

he also has bpd so I thought he’d understand, but no. i get where he’s coming from but also I need time to process my thoughts while he says it all up front. Im splitting against him now I think because he said that if im such a terrible communicator im not ready for a relationship . I get where hes coming from, maybe I should’ve said something sooner since it took me 3 days to speak up about it (I was mostly just saying vague things that could be seen as directed towards the situation but really were not), but I like to process my feelings before speaking up so I don’t say something I don’t mean.

we’re on a break now and I kind of want to end the relationship but I can’t tell if that’s just the split talking or if I genuinely want to . this has made me lose. A lot of feelings for him because of the way he worded things & victimized himself and then said I was using my disorders (almost all of which he also has) to justify myself which I know I didn’t do.

I only took 3 days to actually speak up because for the first day when the feelings started materializing I thought it was just period anxiety or something, 2nd day I talked to our friend on if it was a childish matter or if I should bring it up to him, & then the third day I was going to bring it up since I was in a decent mood to talk finally but then he sent me a message (before I could send mine) saying that he’s pissed for having to take the initiative for me to tell him what’s wrong & that if I can’t communicate then it won’t work out

sorry for the long ass thing im just tired 🥀 idek if this makes sense . I do communicate, but it just takes me a little to actually do so, because I have to be in the right headspace & mood for it and if it’s something bad (ex. thinking he might be cheating) then obviously im gonna be anxious and unable to bring it up for a while

did I mention he said that him and his ex being exes was entirely irrelevant then mentioned that he’s afraid of catching feelings for them again.

I have geniunely nothing to say oh god. Anybody else?

#actually bpd #bpd #bpdconfessions #actually borderline #bpd feels #bpd problems #bpd blog #bpd thoughts #bpd vent #bpdfpconfessions

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augustghosts · 2 years ago

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I’ve become awful at naming my writing so this just doesn’t have a title lol.

Idk if i like this im a lil rusty. Some more QZ!tommy because I kinda love him. I went overboard. In my head this was kinda the same characters/universe as this. So this is like, pre candles lmao. But if you don’t like that, this can just be a random stand alone thing lol. I also have some fluff ideas in my head that i just need to convince myself to write hehe. Hope u like <3

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ smut, not proofread as usual. No plot tbh, just some impractical kitchen table sex lmao. Tommy being soft at the beginning and the end but not during the smut 🤪

Fuck, don’t get emotional Tommy. This isn’t like you. He had found himself talking to himself like that more often recently. He never thought of himself as the type to catch feelings. Recently he had found himself addressing his own insecurities, ones he’d pushed as far down as possible years ago. Being afraid, being unfamiliar, getting emotional. He shook his head as he unlocked the door to his dreary apartment. This is what stood for an apartment these days, a small room with a kitchen and a bathroom. He was grateful, of course. He was alive and safe. Well, kind of safe. But the first thing on his mind every morning was how depressing this life was. He tried not to think about the before, but it's hard when this is the after. He often finds himself being nostalgic. His feelings and circumstances echoing in his head like water dripping from a roof. He needed a drink, something to make the dripping stop.

He turned to stare at his closed front door, she was just across the hall. He wanted to walk over there so badly. That’s nothing new, his longing. She is new, their relationship. But the longing he feels for her has always been there since they met. The dull and drab QZ streets lit up when their eyes met and he found himself addicted to her light. He promised himself he’d leave her alone today, he doesn’t know why he promised himself that. She is always happy to see him but his own insecurities are eating him up.

In her own way, she is expecting him. She’s across the hall also staring at her front door. Waiting for a knock, praying that it’s him. Tommy has a heavy heart, a lot of baggage, and she knows it. She hates to admit that she likes coddling him. She likes comforting him, she likes that he needs her. She needed him too. He protects her - running around the QZ with a Miller brother can bring attention to you. Sometimes not great attention. The QZ is difficult, and she feels safest when Tommy strolls into her apartment at the end of the day and kisses her. The outside world and the QZ disappear and it’s just them, when all they need is each other.

Just as she stands to cross the room and head to his apartment, a knock at the door stops her. She usually doesn’t go to his apartment, he prefers to come here - incase someone unsavory showed up. She paused, what if it wasn’t him? Tommy smiled for the first time today on the other side of the door when he watched her do her usual routine. As always, he hears the locks click and sees her peek through the gap the door allows as she keeps the chain on. She’s cautious and he loves that about her. Her eyes mirror his and light up as she sees him, the door closes again momentarily and he hears the chain drop before she appears again.

“Hey!” She smiles up at him and he pushes the thoughts that flood his mind away. What did he do to deserve someone smiling at him like that? He hadn’t really opened up to her about his journey to Boston, and he didn’t plan on it any time soon. But all of that left his mind when he was here, walking through her front door was the best part of his day.

“Hi.” He says - He doesn’t quite match her energy and he knows she’s noticed it. She always does. She knows him so well and he's still deciding if he likes it or not. When they first met, he always thought she was a person who wore rose coloured glasses, always seeing things so positively. Tommy took off his rose coloured glasses a long time ago, revealing the negative aspects of his life. Now, it’s all he sees. He soon realized that she encouraged him to start viewing things through a positive lens, and now he can’t stay away.

“Rough day?” Her sweet voice distracts him.

“Something like that.” He knows that if he doesn’t give her a full answer, she won’t pry. Before she can say anything else, Tommy’s lips press to hers in a deep, hungry kiss.

“You’re tense.” She mumbled against his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing new.” He forced a smile, his tense jaw muscles relaxing as her hands came up to cup his cheeks. She hummed, not believing him. She pulled him down to kiss her again, feeling the way his hands on her waist pulled her closer, held her tighter.

“You could talk to me, you know.” She pulled away again, much to his dismay. “You could tell me what’s going on in your silly mind.”

“Silly?” He laughed with her for a moment. “Seriously, nothings wrong. I just want you,” He said quietly, moving his hands to her back. Her eyes softened at his words and her hands moved to his shoulders, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders. He maneuvered his arms to help her slip it off, but his hands immediately took back their rightful place on her hips. Squeezing a little as he said, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

A classic line, but it always affected her. He watched her as her eyes drifted downwards - watched the way her eyes traced the bruises on his collar bones, bruises she had previously left. She knew what he was doing, trying to distract her from the questions she’d asked. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for him it always worked.

“Yeah?” She asked, pulling him down to her mouth again. His tongue slid into her mouth before she had the chance to react. He pulled her tightly to him and her response was just as eager, lips moving with his to make the kiss even more intense - her arms tight around his neck. They both needed this, they both needed each other. Tommy groaned into her mouth, his hips pushing forward against hers- backing her up against the table behind her. She could already feel his cock stirring in his jeans. Tommy hummed softly as his hand came up to cup one of her breasts, his thumb pressing over her nipple. She sighed as a flood of heat rushed straight to her core.

“Tommy,” She whimpered, leaning into his touch. Fuck, he loved that sound. He pulled away from her just enough to grab a hold of her wrists, holding both of them in one hand. He knew she loved it when he did stuff like that, reminding her of how strong and capable he was. The whimper that left her lips boosted his ego and he smirked down at her. Keeping a tight hold on her wrists, he gently bent her backwards onto the creaky kitchen table. She took advantage of the position they were in,Tommy leaning over her like this, and she threw her legs around his waist, trapping him against her.

“Are you gonna keep asking me what's wrong?” He teased, a grin on his lips as he looked down at her.

“No.” She breathed, biting her lip as she looked so lovingly up at him.

“Good girl,” He smiled, eyes on her chest - watching it rise and fall.

“Now come here.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss her. He let go of her wrists and she fisted her hands in his shirt, tugging him forward as their lips met. His hand traveled up her body, grazing her chest again and locking gently around her throat.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, baby.” He said. He squeezed his hand a bit tighter, but still being as gentle as ever, relishing in the gasp she let out.

“You like this?” He asked, his mouth was now beside her ear, pressing a kiss underneath it. She nodded quickly, her hands running through his hair. Keeping eye contact with her, his hand still squeezing her throat, he slowly started working the buttons of her jeans open. Impressive, considering he was doing it with one hand. She felt his hand slide into the front, fingers caressing the fabric of her underwear.

“Please, Tommy.” She whimpered, practically rutting against his palm.

“I got you, baby.” He smirked, his finger finally dipping into her. “Fuck, always so wet for me.”

His fingers obviously met no resistance, her pussy easily letting him in. Since she had been worked up since he walked through the damn door, he didn’t need to put much effort into making her feel good. Everything he did was effortless, she always marveled at that. He watched her face, watching as her eyes closed, watching her mouth fall open in a moan. He leaned down when her head tilted back to give him access to the soft skin of her neck. His lips coming down to start kissing the exposed skin.

“Come around my fingers, baby girl,” He said against her skin, his lips brushing a particularly sensitive spot . “You look so beautiful like this.”

“O-oh, my god.” She moaned, followed by his name. Her back arching off the table making it creak below her, her pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as she came.

“I need to be inside you. Can i fuck you, baby?” He asked, already stripping off his jeans before she could answer. She sat up, slipping off of the table as she realised that they were both still practically fully dressed. She finally pulled her jeans all the way off before making her way to her mattress in the corner of the room. Stripping her shirt off on the way. Tommy watched her hungrily, following after her and making sure his own shirt joined hers in the pile. When they were both on the mattress he wasted no time in flipping her over, stomach now pressed against the mattress and her ass in the air. He stood behind her running his hand over her smooth skin.

“Please fuck me, Tommy.” She whined, looking over her shoulder at him. Tommy never had to be told twice. He took a hold of his hard cock and tapped it against her clit, smirking at the whine she let out. Just as she was about to beg him some more, he finally slid in. Immediately and easily bottoming out. The feeling caused her head to dip forward, a moan to leave her lips -almost muffled the pillows.

“I want to hear those pretty noises, baby girl.” Tommy hummed, reaching forward to grasp her hair in a ponytail and pull her head back up. His other hand smacking her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“You feel so good.” She moaned, grinding her hips back against him. He pulled all the way out until his tip was the only thing still inside of her before slamming back in. The burn was deep and it stung so good. She bit her lip as she got accustomed to him, as each slide of his cock sent chills up her spine.

“Is this my pussy?” He growled, his fingers still tugging at her scalp.

“Yes!” She all but screamed, he often wondered if anyone could hear them. They had never heard anyone else, but he wasn’t sure if anyone else was as loud as them. Wasn’t sure if anyone else was able to have as much fun as they manage to have together during the goddamn apocalypse.

“It’s yours, Tommy. Always yours.” She whimpered, his cock hitting spots she was sure hadn’t been hit before.

“That’s it, honey,” He cooed. “You look beautiful like this. Take me so well. You like that?”

She loved when he got like this, when he would start rambling. The things he came out with never failed to push her closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She gasped when his arm snaked around her body to find her aching clit.

“Come on then, baby. Give it to me,” He growled, his deep voice sending a shiver up her spine. He groaned as her whole body convulsed under him. Moans of his name bounced off of the walls as she came around his cock; a silent scream leaving her - her knuckles turned white as her fingers gripped the sheets underneath her.

“Fuck,” She sounded so breathless and he fucking loved it. “I wish I could feel you come inside of me Tommy.”

“Shit, don’t say stuff like that.” He groaned at her words. They had already had this conversation multiple times. He always pulled out, she was obviously scared of getting pregnant during their current situation. QZ’s weren’t known for their outstanding medical care. They knew they risked it by fucking anyway, but they always tried to take any precautions they could. Expired condoms still existed, but what good would they do anyway? Even if they could get their hands on them.

He dreamt about it as well, filling her up and watching it drip back out. Being able to push it back inside of her and tease her about it. Just the thought of it had him regrettably pulling out of her heat and spilling over his hand and her ass with a gasp of her name. She grimaced as he used his shirt to clean it up, after giving himself a moment to catch his breath. She giggled as she collapsed down onto the bed, crawling under the covers as she suddenly realized how cold the room actually was.

She reached for another one of his shirts that lay beside her bed and slipped it on, a clean one that had been discarded during another escapade. He lay down beside her, both of them still panting.

“You good?” He asked. She nodded and cuddled into him, pressing soft kisses to his jaw. His hand stroked down her back. He kissed the top of her head a few times, she always basked in this side of him that no one else got to see. This softness and love that was reserved for her, reserved for this room. Tommy loved it too, he loved being able to be himself after shutting it off for so long. All he could do now was sleep in her arms and prepare himself to put his walls back up again when he left her apartment tomorrow. Preparing to do it all again the next day. But the thought of being able to crawl back into her arms at the end of every day made his lips turn up into a soft, content smile as he drifted off to sleep.

#posting this even though the hbo tommy fandom is DEAD #or maybe im posting this BECAUSE the fandom is dead?#u guys deserve better but I promise i have other stuff in the works mwah #this isn’t the one i said was gonna revive the fandom that ones still in the works #tommy miller #gabriel luna #hbo tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fic #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x you #tlou #smut

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