#so why do they have personal grudges
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Loki didn't even do anything to the other Asgardians personally, unsure why they didn't like him so much and thought he was so suspicious
#i was thinking about what crimes loki did do and like. lying to thor/hurting his feelings was IT??#like he didnt spit in hogun's face or kill sif's mother#so why do they have personal grudges#is it because loki argued when they said to makw odin take thor's punishment back? unlikely#they didnt like loki before that either!!!!#and we're never told why!!!!!#if it was justified by their noble characters then it would have come up#fandral wouldve been like no we cant suspect loki and someone else wouldve said but remember when he killed a guy!!#or 'but he has done such before...' etc.#but no!!#apparently it just IS#he hasnt done anything personal towards them which is actually a wild decision to make#loki with a squeaky clean record gets the throne bc thor was banished and they jump him#:/ ?????????#did he at least poison fandral once or something#that's so mean#thor is the only one who can hold a grudge because of the lying thing#everyone else was going off hearsay and as the prophecy foretold. APPARENTLY!!!#once again asking if they simply do not know how the line of inheritance works#even loki understood that much and he was of the opinion that the family was pulling shenanigans with him
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who is your favorite AA character? đïžđïž
ziska⊠I hope capcom brings her back someday
#shes cool as fuck to me bc when I first played jfa I found her really frustrating to deal with#not just as Phoenix but I mean like on a personal level she is challenging because sheâs so thorough#and yet I also find it fascinating that she breaks the character sheâs built for herself once in a while#i 100% believe that I donât think she would have caught on to what Phoenix was trying to do while stalling for time with engardes trial#so itâs probably a good thing edgeworth subbed in but she literally busts her ass to bring evidence to court#almost right after having a bullet extracted from her WHICH SHE ALSO PRESENTS AS EVIDENCE. thats metal as fuck ok#especially since she would technically have nothing to do with the case after edgeworth fills in and she still decided to do that anyway#maybe it was blind faith to use that evidence to win since she wasnât there for most of the trial but still#and even if canon doesnât give it to me I still firmly believe thereâs be at least some chemistry between her and Maya#like especially if you hold it next to wrightworth that works bc thereâs already a history there and majority of Phoenix and miles trying#to relearn their relationship is Phoenix coaxing out that side of Miles that he remembers from fourth grade#but with Franmaya itâs something new and theyâre basically strangers to each other and one of them almost got the other convicted#and I still think thatâs fascinating and itâs a damn shame thay half of the fics I find for them on ao3 is background in wrightworth fic#i did find a good one that touched on Franziska trying to win pearls approval because Pearl does hold a grudge against her#and seeing that trying to live up to perfecting even her personal relationships without getting to know Pearl to even know#why it wasnât working feels believable when I think abt her as a character yk#myart#my art#doodles#aa#ace attorney#franziska von karma
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she just wanted him to say that it was fucked up for scabs to make her head into a giant dobermann to bite her arm!! shes got ptsd!! and instead she was met not only by him telling her to suck it up and ignore her bodys natural response, but him revealing he TOLD her about it. bc it would make her a better fighter
#its so fucked up it drives me insane#paranatural#listen. imma be real w yall right now. fransisco is a terrible person and telling scabs about whats essentially a trigger is downright evil#but i do find him to be a compelling character like. why are you like that. was that something you had to teach yourself? do you have ptsd?#i still want her to either 1.kick his ass w a spirit companion bc its a real partnership where theyre equals + thats stronger than he think#or 2. prove to be a true prodigy and capable of working w spirits outside her color. calming grudges. bringing out the most of the spirits#powers. etc etc. and stick it to him that way. i also want her to be able to tell if a spirit is playing her unlike her dad.#be everything he THINKS he is or WANTS to be
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iâm obviously incredibly biased but i do think itâs kinda more interesting if the courier isnât mad that benny shot them. for whatever reason! but especially if they come from similar backgrounds where itâs like âwell it was respectful. he clearly didnât want to kill me specifically it was business. and he basically threw me a funeral while i was still aliveâ and then their bigger issue is figuring out what to do now that theyâre not dead. do they get revenge out of principle, do they try to solve the mystery of it all, do they hunt him down just to ask him to apologize, do they get roped into it by victor, or just general events? idk i obviously understand the revenge angle is very motivating, i just think a courier who doesnât hate benny is really interesting and fun to play with. and not just because heâs my favorite guy and i could never hold it against him
#like iâve really changed kittyâs whole thing to be more of a âi donât hold a grudge because this is the fist person iâve met in a decade who#operates within the societal framework i grew up in and getting shot twice execution style is the best way i was gonna go out. why did you#bring me back to life though because now i donât remember who i am and iâm simply forced to become a detective and a small time con woman.#*six months later* oh hey itâs the guy who shot me! hey do you have my diary. btw. also do you wanna fuck because i feel a really weird#kinship with you and if we fuck iâll either get over it or itâll be your problemâ#but iâve made other couriers who donât hold it against him for other reasons (not always romantic. sometimes just âyknow i should be mad but#iâm anti violenceâ or âwell iâm fine now so really why would i kill to when i can be a pain in your ass forever which is a way funnier#punishment for attempted murderâ#benny gecko#kitty grave#thatâs just for my tagging system lol#courier six#too i suppose
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maybe there should have also been a âdo you know anything about halo loreâ part to it because i have no idea what the insurrectionists even are in halo so i just. assumed charon was an insurrectionist thing and had no reason to question it.
#god especially with ct being in the desert. why was ct in the desert.#i have no idea what insurrectionist do. if you told me they have huge bases and complexes then. okay. i guess this is what insurrectionists#like them not being insurrectionists wasnât even really that much of a twist to me because i. donât know what the fuck that means.#like oh okay⊠i guess that makes ctâs arc both a little stupider and a little smarter then?#like. she isnât going against the unsc sheâs going to go work with them. which i guess is smarter if you think theyâre actually going to#listen to you. but pretty stupid from the standpoint of⊠knowing anything about the military.#girl i donât think they care that he tortured an ai. hargrove only cared cause he had a personal grudge#which. i GUESS she WAS going to hargrove. so. yeah okay. i guess itâs smarter.#but i question whether that was the original intent at the time of writing 10. i really doubt it honestly#THOUGH i guess we also didnât know that hargrove was only doing it for the grudge#soooooooo#i think weâre just breaking even here.
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Man, knowing that I'm less than two weeks from my last final is really shaking me because I have so many things I said I'd do after I graduate and they're very close now!!!
One of them is going to be leaving all the discord servers I don't talk in and also pruning following / friends lists like hell and back. This will allow me to finally come off invisible on discord, and it'll be nice to have discord statuses available to me again ;~;
#sg.txt#for context I do not currently feel safe coming off invisible on discord#because there's this one guy in the one uni club i was in for a while#who has some fucking grudge against me for NO REASON#and since i would like to not be accused of seriously abusing them again#(they have me mistaken for SOMEONE ELSE ENTIRELY)#i have not spoken in that server or come off invisible in months#graduating means i can leave all those servers and then the fucker can't track me down anymore#it's also why i started looking for and then changed my url#and i'll also be updating my website domain as well!#then the only thing i have left to change is my email which i can't atm#because i need gdocs still#but ugh it'll be nice. that club was a great idea until they refused to kick that person out after they levied false accusations against me#i hate not standing my ground but it was so not fucking worth it#getting rid of all that shit will be nice#like bye university friends it was fun for a bit but i'm movin on now#(boston's foreplay long time starts blasting)#actually yeah lmao my graduation playlist consists of#boston's foreplay / long time; alice cooper's school's out; piko's the glorious unseen; and megurine luka's no logic#don't need any other songs just those four#wild#in other news i got wacup working
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*When asked about Sonic*
Chaos Sonic: Hah. So we're still talking about that blue pitstain? Whatever. He can be fun to toy with, sure, but he's old news. Last year's model. A failure of a friend and a passable hero. Nine wants him alive for "some reason"âthat involves his "intense attachment"âso I won't kill him or anything. I'll leave him alone in a room with Nine over my dead bodyâor my best friend's wishes, since I cannot bear to refuse him. If I could, though, I'd love the chance to "play" with him some, "rough him up" a little as payback for how he treated my best friend.
Alpha Grim Sonic (answering via writing it down, sign language, transmission, whatever because he's mute): You refer to the blue hedgehog. Once upon a time, my master, Nine, seemed to be troubled when thinking of him. There was a time when Sonic brought a fight to our doorstep, but no matter how Sonic may have hurt him in the past, he has chosen to preserve my master's life. Nine seems to trust him, and Sonic has not threatened his life. So, as I do not have the capacity to experience such things as "emotions", and they would not matter even if I did have the ability, I do not mind if my master associates with Sonic the Hedgehog. If Nine is happy, and the hedgehog does not intend harm upon him, then all is well.
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*When asked about Shadow*
Chaos Sonic: Oh, he's that black hedgehog, right?! Seems cool! I'd love to race him sometime. Of course, I'll fight him too if he intends to lay a finger on my best buddy, but all is well if he plays nice.
Alpha Grim Sonic (answering not by speaking, because he is mute): Shadow the Hedgehog. You do refer to the black hedgehog, do you not? If he intends to bring harm upon my master again, I will not hesitate in removing him. He has not received forgiveness for trying to kill my master during the war. Nine surely allows him to live because he is gracious, but if he so commanded me to I would rip the hedgehog him limb from limb. It is my duty to do what my master commands, and I will be ready should the hedgehog try anything or should my master finally revoke his trust in him.
#sonic prime#sonic the hedgehog#crystalbondshipping#crystalbond#chanine#miles nine prower#nine sonic prime#nine the fox#chaos sonic#alpha grim sonic#i just be ramblin#If you're reading this ignore how they speak. I was intending to write this in meme format and not worry about the dialogue#and then I ended up worrying a bit about the dialogue but not too much#In case it isn't clear both of them actually dislike leaving Nine alone#They create an understanding with each other at some point#But even when Nine trusts someone they won't leave him unless commanded to do so#They're funny because Chaos Sonic has a vendetta against Sonic. Sure he's the new Sonic and wants to replace himâ but after being revived h#*really* wants to replace him and also really dislikes him for how he thinks Sonic treated Nine (and because of Sonicâs place in Nine's#heart). Meanwhileâ while Alpha Grim Sonic understands why Chaos Sonic would be hung up on how he treats Nine (and eventually understands#wanting to be held to a similar place as Sonic in Nine's heart)â he just doesn't get Chaos Sonic's vendetta and obsession#Howeverâ Alpha Grim Sonic's fist is magnetized to Shadow's face. He is on high alert when Shadow is around Nineâ and although he is not#supposed to have a personality or feelingsâ he is compelled to fight Shadow and tear him apart. He still harbors a grudge over Shadow's#trying to kill/stop Nine. Meanwhileâ while Chaos Sonic can understand disliking Shadow for how he treated Nineâ he doesn't really get the#obsession either. He thinks Shadow could be fun to play and toy withđ And those are like the only two that these two have incredibly strong#feelings towards when it comes to the people Nine associates with#au musings#crystalshattershipping and chilitonic if you squint tbh
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yea we are never making progress ever the more people I talk to about unions and striking the more I keep hearing the same excuse of "they're selfish, they should just find another job if it's not paying them well/the conditions are bad" because last night my cousin called the people that work for national rail and other train services doing a walk off/striking are selfish for doing so and when I tried to explain to her that no act of striking the workplace is selfish when this is done to change the workplace for EVERYBODY not just those striking she started saying I'm doing too much over a "fake scenario" because she said would never strike when I wasn't even addressing that I felt like I was in a twitter arguement but in real life because at this point it's willful ignorance if you try to flip over the tables and say what I'm fighting for isn't even real when you just said people that strike are selfish....
#shes one of those ppl that nobody can ever tell them they're wrong so when the one time everybody else was like#you're wrong striking isnt a personal thing ppl do it so they can eat and not be at risk of losing their homes due greedy ceos#she got mad as fuck at me and shes now holding a grudge against me like đ you can stay ignorant if you want#but just know the rights you have now at your job were there because people unionised. those '#'selfish' people are the reason why you are able to even have breaks at work#this happened when a film and tv union came to my uni and somebody said it felt like a cult.... fighting for better#environments in the film industry is cultish? we are DOOMED.
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Having both adhd and chronic fatigue is a trip cause it's like what do you mean I have too much energy and not enough energy at the same time. God strike me dead
#im laying in bed too exhausted to actually do anything but also stimming at the same time??#feeling the need to stim means i have excess energy right? so why cant i actually like. feel that energy??#if i believed in god then id be convinced that he has a personal grudge against me and this is my punishment#also this makes it so drinking caffeine is a gamble every time#for whether itll give me energy or make me more tired#how am i meant to live laugh love in these conditions......#drew-jupiter is typing#adhd#chronic fatigue
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Heavy on izuku's feeling being dictated by the author bc how the hell can I trust Horikoshi's writing when he clearly had a Bakugou bias throughout the whole damn series? It's to the point where while i love izuku DOWN, i know that he doesn't matter at the cost of Bakugou's "ChArAcTer" as piss poor as that is. Hori clearly doesn't care about Izuku's feelings as a victim or how other characters would realistically approach a bully who wants to be a hero.
No one knows how Bakugou treated izuku for YEARS by the start of the manga and Hori didn't give enough of a shit to write it but I'll be damned if y'all just hand-wave it as some bullshit forgiveness or "let bygones be bygones" bc Hori doesn't deserve to have his shit writing be excused and have a victims story be ignored bc of favoritism and shipping.
God forbid you ever criticize the lack of consequences Bakugou experiences in MHA, or suddenly youâll find dozens of Bakugou stans pouring into your mentions to make a speech about how cruel you are for forcing him to eat cement. Theyâll act as though âconsequencesâ inherently involves throwing him into the dungeon or putting him in detention for 100 years and then moan about how him facing consequences would only perpetuate a cycle of abuse/discrimination.
Listen, itâs not really that much of a consequence if the âconsequenceâ in question isnât directly connected to his current or past bad behaviour. âOh but his scars!â âWhen he died that one time!â âHis guilt for getting kidnappedâ None of those are related to his bullying, and in my opinion, that makes them insufficient as consequences in an arc about changing for the better.
The consequences I would actually like to see could be as simple as: Izuku feels sad/mad because of what he went through, or certain characters reflect on how Bakugouâs past impacts their perception of him. More introspection on the victimâs end is needed, Bakugou doesnât necessarily need to be pilloried for the arc to be satisfying.
#op tags#Also donât you dare try to *But Izuku doesnât hold a grudge!!! why do you want him to pray on Bakuchanâs downfall?#Izuku isnât a real person and his feelings on the matter are dictated by an author who clearly prioritizes Bakugouâs emotional development#and introspective over Izukuâs (who is reduced to the awful position of constantly approaching his for#bully with: *Youâre doing great sweetie!* as opposed to actually reflecting on how the bullying affected him for the worse#anti bakugou#anti bakugo katsuki#anti horikoshi#anti bakudeku#mha critical#mha fandom critical#fandom discourse#MHA salt#anti mha fandom#my tags#plus he doesnt even change on page#He's the same loud mouthed foul temperd jerk he was at the beginning#even if he is âquieterâ that's the least he could do given how much he got his ass beat and was irrelevant to the main story#todoroki and izuku are plot important characters but somehow became 2nd and 3rd fiddle to someone who didn't even have a parallel antagonist#and my girl ochaco had a parallel antagonist for godssake but hori hates women and can't write them#so she was shafted obvi
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When ppl misunderstand gentle parenting it makes me wanna put my HEAD THRU A WALL
#NO! NO! UR THINKING PERMISSIVE PARENTING!#WHICH I HAVE INSANE PERSONAL GRUDGES ABOUT!#please.#gentle parenting makes it sound different than it is#it's just treating your child as a person and working WITH them and letting them be in charge of what is reasonable for them to beâ#âin charge of#u dont just go 'oh u dont wanna go? ok!' you work w them and let them know WHY ur going to do smth#instead of also just being like 'well we're going cos i say so'#can u imagine if someone did that to u. bro.#UUGHHHHHHH SOME PEOPLE ARE SO STUPIDDDDDD PLEEEASSEEEEE
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im so shit at comprehending my thoughts so ill try my best to explain this but:
i think the main thing i started to pick up on recently, sometime during my main blogâs lifespan but before this one was made, i learned that âannoying is goodâ
viewing it as bad, something that needs to be treated, or silenced is a really unhealthy and toxic mindset. atleast adjusting your perspective of it to make it bearable is enough that needs to be done, but i dont think it should require any amount of intervention. at all
i dont think i wouldve been active in a lot of places if i wasnt âannoyedâ; not on disc, not on tumblrâŠ. like, i dont mean it in a way with any negativity - it would be best to redefine âannoyingâ in this post as âa result which stems from you having fun/doing anything that reaches other peopleâ - but i do genuinely mean that, if i hadnt stumbled into people who bumped into me and the other blogs they had because of avid sharing of interests/sharing of work/etc then i mightve been stayed a really quiet blog that felt like i needed to be selective and loyal to my interests
i probably wouldntve ended up making this blog either and been as confident to vent out some of my personal issues as i have not too long ago (even though they were quite harsh and i still look back on some of it with a bit of guilt) if i hadnt come to this conclusion at all soâŠ. yeah
âannoyingâ is good imo. so long as youre having fun with it, whatever it is, you deserve to be âannoyingâ - and the negative stigma that comes with being that comes from people who dont even matter to you anywayâŠ. so like. sparkle on ig?? lmfao
#summary: why i think ââannoyingââ is good and why im in support of it#i came to these conclusions somewhat on my own but i did have some help from my friends who saw through my blind bullshit and got me on the#right trackâŠ. so like. its kinda like a personal anecdote??#since ive been on both sides and realized its just a negative feedback loop everywhere so. yeah dont do this#being a grudge-holding judgmental type of person made me fundamentally worse in all aspects i think. and im certain#mostly because i started to realize i was practically a living contradiction at that point and i still did want to spread around that#generosity but with how toxic things seemed back then - i dont think i was ever going to have the opportunity to show that unless i changed#oh thats not a summary. uh oops#cataclysmic ranting
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well, all right iâm bad, but then youâre no prize eitherâŠ
pair: joel miller x fem!reader
wc: 8.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.
natâs note: well, i finally caved yâall. babyâs first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if itâs shit and heâs ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what iâm doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!
dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!
joel found a lodge houseâŠ
You donât know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.
He's never outright said it, but you know itâs thereâin every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.
Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.
You tell yourself it doesnât matter, that you donât care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.
You do careâmore than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize youâll never win.
And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.
It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.
What did you do to make him look at you like youâre some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.
But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.
So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself itâs better this way.
You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.
Youâre sure thatâs part of it. That thatâs how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child whoâs more of a hassle than anything else.
Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.
You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.
In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.
You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.
All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.
After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.
It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.
It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.
A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.
You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.
Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.
Itâs been years and youâve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.
You canât count the amount of times youâve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.
The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.
You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.
Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to youâjust needing to escape.
There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And thatâs what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.
You learned how to be ruthless because of it.
How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.
The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss.Â
And then you found yourself with Joel.
You hadnât exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.
A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.
But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.
He wasnât like any of the others youâd met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.
As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasnât concerned with you. He didnât need you. And, more than that, he didnât want you around.Â
You didnât know what to do with that.
Itâs a bitter kind of irony. Youâve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.
Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.
He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.
It's not muchâjust another run-down place in the middle of nowhereâbut for the first time in what feels like forever, itâs a roof over your head for the night.
The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.
You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.
Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.
The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.
The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.
Joel. Of course.
He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house. Â
âFireâs low,â he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.
You donât turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.
âOkay,â you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. âIâll grab some more wood later.â
Another beat of silence. Then, âItâs gettinâ cold out, Iâll go.â
Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.
âSuit yourself,â you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.
Joel doesnât leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway.Â
You wonder what heâs waiting for, or if heâs waiting at all.
Finally, he speaks. âDonât touch anything.â
With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you canât hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.
You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. âAsshole.â
Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.
You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.
You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.
You tell yourself not to worry. Heâs probably fine, heâs been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, itâs annoyingly competent.
Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.
Youâre just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.
Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fineâno more haggard than usual.Â
But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.
Youâre on your feet in an instant.
âFuck,â you say, voice sharper than you expected. âWhat the hell happened?â
âRaiders.â Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like itâs nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. âSâjust a scratch.â
âBullshit,â you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. âSit. Now.â
He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares youâve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw setâdefiant.Â
His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own.Â
Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. âHappy now?â
"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.
âIâm fine,â he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.
âSure you are,â you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. âAnd Iâm the fucking Queen of England.â
"Said Iâm fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but youâre already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.
"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."
Joel surprisingly doesnât argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.
You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.
The smell of blood hits you immediately.
The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. Itâs deepâbut not fatalâjust an angry red and oozing blood.
Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.
Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.
âJesus, Joel,â you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. âYou really know how to underplay a situation, huh?â
He doesnât respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.
Itâs unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.
âThis is gonna hurt,â you warn, though thereâs a part of you that doesnât mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.
A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn heâs thrown your way.
âJust get it over with,â Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.
You donât give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesnât pull away.
You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.
You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.
You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. âYou need to take your shirt off.â
Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. âThat really necessary?â
âYes, itâs necessary, Joel,â you huff, already losing patience. âUnless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all meansââ
He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.
You roll your eyes at how slow heâs moving, and your patienceâalready worn thin by the day's eventsâsnaps.
âJesus Christ, let me help,â you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.
Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. âI got it,â he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.
You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly.Â
For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.
Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.
You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.
Joelâs broad, solid frame isnât new to you. Youâve seen him shirtless beforeâbrief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.
But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.
Youâre staring, and you know it.
The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.
You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.
Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. âYou gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?â
You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. âYeah, yeah. Donât get your panties in a twist.â
You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.
âThisâll hurt worse than the alcohol,â you say, threading the needle easily.
Joel snorts, a rare sound. âFigures.â
The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesnât make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.
His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesnât tell you to stop or slow down.
Heâs too damn proud for that.
You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.
âYouâve done this before,â Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. Itâs not quite a question, more of an observation.
You shrug, keeping your hands steady. âOf course I have.â
âWho taught you?â
The question catches you off guard, Joelâs never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. Thereâs no malice there, no judgmentâjust curiosity.
You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. âMy sister.â
You donât elaborate and Joel doesnât push.
Maybe itâs the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.
You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before youâre leaning away again.
âGood as new,â you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. âTry not to tear these open anytime soon.â
Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side.Â
âCouldâve done it myself,â he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned.Â
You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. âSure you couldâve, right before you passed out. Youâre welcome by the way.â
You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joelâs voice stops you in your tracks.
âYouâre always like this, yâknow,â he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but thereâs something new thereâsomething heavier.
You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. âLike what?â
âPushy. Stubborn,â he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. âLike youâve got somethinâ to prove all the damn time.â
You whip around, your patience officially gone. âYou think Iâm stubborn?â you shoot back, your voice rising. âComing from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?â
Joelâs jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you donât stop. Not now. Not after months of this.
âIâve been busting my ass since day one to prove that Iâm not dead weight to you. Iâve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?â
âYou donât know what the hell youâre talkinâ about,â Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. âYou donât know a goddamn thing about me.â
âBecause you wonât let me!â you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. âAll you do is look at me like Iâm some burden you canât wait to get rid of.â
Joelâs glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.
You really canât stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid youâve kept on your emotions.
âIf Iâm such a hassle, why didnât you just leave me back there, huh? Why didnât you just walk away like I know you wanted to?â
Joelâs breathing is heavier now, his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.
For a moment, he doesnât say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.
âYou think I wanted this, kid?â he growls, his voice low and strained, like heâs barely holding himself together. âYou think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone elseâs fuckinâ life on me?â
âDonât call me kid,â you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. âIâm not a fucking kid.â
He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. âCouldâve fooled me.â
âFuck you, Joel,â you growl, fists clenching at your side. âIf you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didnât you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?â
âBecause I couldnât!â Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.
The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.
Youâve never been scared of Joel, even though youâve seen first hand just how scary he can be.
Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, itâs the closest to scared youâve felt.
âIâve seen you out there,â he continues, tone low and dark. âYouâve got a fuckinâ death wish. Youâre too damn stubborn to just stop, and Iâm not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckinâ killed.â
Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.
âIâm just trying to survive, Joel,â you snap, your voice shaking. âThatâs what we do, isnât it? Survive.â
âSurvive,â Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. âThat what you call it? Throwinâ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettinâ stabbed and shot right fuckinâ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?â
You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. âYes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because thatâs what you always do.âÂ
âWell I canât,â he grates out, taking a step closer. âI canât âcause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I donât hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.â
That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.
Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. âThat what you wanted to hear?â
Itâs in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.
Youâre quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isnât just about you.Â
It never was.
âThen show me,â you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. âShow me that you donât hate me.â
Joelâs eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You donât say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.
âI want you to prove it.â
The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far.Â
You shouldnâtâthis shouldnâtâhappen. Not like this. Not after everything thatâs been said.
But when Joelâs lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing.Â
Itâs not gentle, not softâthis is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. Itâs messy, frantic, like a fight thatâs been brewing for too long.
He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like itâs everything youâve both been avoiding.
His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like heâs trying to pour everything he canât say into this single moment.
You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion thatâs been simmering beneath the surface.
The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.
Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.
You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.
âGoddamn it,â Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you canât place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. âWhat the hell are we doing?â
You donât have an answer. Youâre not sure if you even want one.
You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.
This kiss is nothing like the first, it isnât a clash of frustrationâitâs filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence.Â
Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.
He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like heâs trying to claim every inch of you.
The taste of himâsalt and iron and something distinctly Joelâmakes your head spin.Â
Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he canât decide where he wants to touch you most.
âJoelââ His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.
Youâre moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength heâs built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.
âJoel,â you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. âYour stitchesââ
He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. âCan hardly feel âem.â
You make a displeased sound, but itâs undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach.Â
His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and youâre suddenly rearing back.Â
âWait,â you say, your voice barely a whisper.
Joelâs hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. âYou okay?â
You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. âI just...I need to tell you something.â
His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.
You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.
âIâve never...â You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. âIâve never done this before. I mean, Iâve never been with anyone like this.â
Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.
âChrist,â he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. âYouâre tellinâ me this now?â
âI didnât exactly plan for this to happen,â you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. âItâs not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.â
Joelâs gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. âHey, hey, I didnât mean it like that.â
You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. âI just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.â
His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adamâs apple bobbing as he considers your words.
âI donât...â He pauses, the most hesitant youâve ever heard him. âI donât want to hurt you.â
Itâs the most vulnerable heâs been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest.Â
âYou wonât,â you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. âI trust you.â
Joelâs jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like heâs going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.
âAt least let me do this right,â he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost donât hear it. âNot here. Not on some goddamn couch.â
You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. âWhat?â
âUpstairs,â he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. âThereâs a bed up there. It ainât much, but itâs better than this.â
You canât do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.
âOkay,â you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. âUpstairs.â
Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind.Â
The bed isnât muchâan old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanketâbut it doesnât matter.
Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.
âLast chance,â he says, his voice a low rumble. âYou say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.â
Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way heâs giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.
But you donât hesitate.
You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch.Â
âJesus, Miller,â you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. âHow long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?â
"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. âLike I fuckinâ said,â he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. âPushy.â
Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.
He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. âIâll take care of you,â he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. âIâll make it good for you, I swear.â
His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.
âPretty girl,â he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.
You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need.Â
You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you canât stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.
Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that heâs as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency.Â
As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like heâs memorizing every inch of you.
âYouâre fuckin' perfect,â he mutters, his voice thick with desire.
Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours.Â
The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.
âJesus, sheâs drippinâ for me already,â he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.
Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesnât relent.
âYou touch yourself down here, baby?â he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.
"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. âAsked you a question, honey.â
You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. âYes, I touch myself.â
Joelâs lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.
âGood girl,â he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. âWhenâs the last time you touched yourself?â
Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. âAâa few nights ago.â
Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.
Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.
âJoel,â you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.
He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. âI know, honey,â he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. âBut I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.â
The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.
âI am ready.â Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. âPlease, Joelâfuckâplease, I needââ
âNeed what?â His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. âTell me, baby. What do you need?â
âI need you,â you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. âI need you inside me.â
Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.Â
The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness.Â
Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.
Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk.Â
âYeah?â he asks, his voice thick with lust. âYou want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?â
âGod, yes,â you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. âWant it so bad.â
He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.
Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.
The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.
Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.
His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth.Â
The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.
âFuck, baby,â Joel mutters against your lips. âYouâre so tight, so fuckinâ perfect for me.â
As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.
Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you.Â
The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."
You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.Â
Every stroke feels like itâs hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.
"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."
"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Donât stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.
Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.
Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.
âFeel that?â he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. âYou feel how deep I am?â
His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.
Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.
You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can'tâI'm gonnaâ"
He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."
With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure.Â
Youâre lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joelâs body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.
Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until heâs bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.
His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.
He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.
For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts.Â
Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything thatâs happened between you both settling into something newâsomething different, but still there.
Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.
âChrist, quit that,â Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.
âWhy?â you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. âCan you even get it up again?â
Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.
âWatch it,â he warns, though thereâs no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.
The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.
Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.
A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.
âIâmâŠâ he starts, trailing off softly. âIâm sorry. Iâve been a real fuckinâ prick, and you didnât deserve it. You never did.â
You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.
All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.
âItâs okay,â you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. âI understand now.â
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits.Â
Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO
#â đŻđąđ”đąđđȘđą đžđłđȘđ”đŠđŽ âĄ#áŻâ
đ§đđ'đŹ đ©đđ«đŹđšđ§đđ„ đŁđšđđ„ đŠđąđ„đ„đđ«!#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#pls be sweet to me#i'm so nervous to post this lmao#love you!#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#tlou x reader#tlou x you#tlou fic#tlou smut#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#the last of us smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal smut
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moar of them
(guy who has never played cotl) haha au time
#ughhh my pen is fucking bugging on me so i csnt draw with tilts. these things really werent built to last#im using an old spare bevcause my current one just decided to stop working for no reason UGH. UGGHHH HATE AND DEATH ON PLANET EARTH#i wonder if its because i press down a little firmly when i draw.. i havent dropped it or placed it down carelessly so it could just be#my grip wearing down the sensor.. replacing the nib helps a little when it wears out but i cant do anything when it just stops responding#to the pencils touch on the ipad surface. why does god hate me#i got some questions in my mailbox for this au and im happy ppl have taken an interest in it!! its really loose in my head so please#dont expect any solid answers.. itll probably be very wishy washy bc i dont have anything planned out. although do feel free to take it#and riff off of it however u want if you want to try smth with it idm at all ^_^ im just here doing my own thing really#personally i dont think the lamb and narinder have any real reason to hate each other..? lamb got roped into the bishop family drama#and i think they wld have more of a grudge against the other 4 for yknow. killing them#even if they know narinder sees them as a means to an end its not a personal thing. although they do want to keep their life so i kinda#see them defying narinder at the end as an act of self preservation. maybe they dont want to keep the cycle of violence going#lamb i think will commit acts of violence out of necessity like following orders but will hold back if its smth that perpetuates violence#as for nari.. i think he probably wouldve half expected the lamb to fight back the way any caged animal would when theyre cornered#who knows!! haha#my art#myart#doodles#false prophet! au#cotl au#cotl#cult of the lamb#cotl narinder#cotl the one who waits#the one who waits#cotl lamb#narilamb
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It's as if they're saying... "Why... why did you and Imbibitor Lunae commit such an unforgivable sin?"
I know that you have no interest in my answer.
...which is why I asked the question as you looked me straight in the eye. I've asked myself that same question infinite times... but was never able to find the answer...
Why... why is it that only the abominations can return time and time again...?
Why does someone like her have to be buried, burned to ash, and eventually forgotten...? Why!?
This play on questions that await no answer, yet are in their way a response to what was asked, is so good
#The way they manauver around silences and how they don't say straight away what they mean and meant and felt and thought#yet know and understand even in their not sharing the other's position#I love how it works with Jin.gliu's understanding of Blade seeking B.ailu but not taking her medicationâ#hoping for a different kind of treatmentâ just as she had#They stood in opposite sides of a boardâ with totally contrary opinions on the same matterâ yet ended on the other side of each other#So similar both in storiesâ influencesâ relations and personality in some ways. So similar in movements in the end#So similar in drive to live beyond their death at the end of it all. Unable to let go and move on#Holding on to grudges and hatred and their sword if only to keep the pain and the memory alive if it's all that rests#I love them so much#I talk too much#Traces#Fragments and scraps#Why did you do it? Why is it that only monstrosities come back? Why did you do it? Why does she stay dead while my flesh restores itself?#Why did you do it? But seeing Bail.u is the best medicine she could have hoped for. And he did itâ but is full of regrets#The absolute reproach and yet the mutual understanding is so good. It feels so natural and coherent. So human#I truly love them and their dynamic a lot#Alsoâ obsessed with the fact that Blade says she stabbed him through his heart in the final blowâ and how the image reflects it#'In the endâ you stabbed me through the heart and left me and the sword in that withered grave'#'æćâ äœ ćșćș穿ćżäžć»â ææććäžè”·çćšäșéŁçæŻćą'#I can't tell just how moved this whole quest makes me and how satisfactory it was to me haha#The Gongshu reference makes me want to scream every time#The weight of 'you left me and the sword' with how Blade and that sword are linked in life and death and change of being and name#Avfkabfkkd I couldn't love him more
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Howâd they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationshipâŠ(platonic/romantic)
Dick: heâs insulted.
Gutted.
He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.
âDo you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?â Heâd say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. âIf itâs the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and donât call me dude or bro anymore.â
Heâd rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him youâre not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames thatâd make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasnât his name.
Heâs go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasnât. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.
Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She canât do her abcâs guys itâs a real tragedy.)
Jason: âI just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.â - Jason at some point.
Itâs a whole mood killer for him to be honest.
Heâs calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that heâs well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit youâve done together isnât platonic in any sort of way.
Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasnât)
Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as âjust a really good friendâ, âbuddy oâ mineâ or even worse than both of those; âchum.â đ
When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see whoâd call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.
Youâll probs get punishedâŠIâm just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that âpunishmentâ was exactly.
Damian:
As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if thatâs even possible.
Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. Heâs not your dude or bro, heâs your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.
So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.
âUntil you learn that I am your partner, I wonât want to be anywhere near you if youâre going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.â He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.
Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.
So itâs bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didnât, youâd still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.
He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.
He can take a joke but not when itâs aimed at his relationship. Heâs well and truly devoted to his relationship -if weâre to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagines#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff#dc fluff#nightwing x y/n#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagines#nightwing x reader
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