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#i know a lot of other cool stuff will happen but let me be sad about chadwick boseman some more

macfrog · 1 month

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san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

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Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #san angelo

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pray4byron · 3 months

Note

hey! i love your stuff and think its pretty cool

just wondering if i could get a lucifer fic where the reader is like, adams sister? (lets ignore the lore for a sec) and shes like him but toned down a tad and less straight up bad. and they kinda date in heaven a bit before he falls and then shes sad and ends up falling aswell eventually and he gets all blushy flustered when he sees her again in charlies hotel and charlies just really confused

also maybe a quick flash to him mocking adam abt how he not only stole both his wives but also his sister

sorry if this is written badly i never send requests :>

this is actually rlly cute wtf

anyway, yes ofc i can write it for you, here you go!!

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sexual References (No Smut)

“Mr. Took-Yo-Sis!”

Lucifer x Adam’s Sister!Reader

Lucifer had his fair share of significant others in his life, but there was only one that he truly loved, Y/N.

They had a relationship during his time in Heaven, which was eventually cut short as he fell not long after.

Y/N’s brother, Adam, didn’t like Lucifer, in the slightest. Lucifer had been with two of Adam’s wives, and he was not happy about that.

Unbeknownst to Lucifer, his beloved, had fallen not long after he did. But that was about to change.

Charlie, your first friend in Hell, was getting her rehabilitation hotel set up for her fathers arrival, various decor was hung, and (burnt) cookies were baked.

Charlie stood next to the door before taking a deep breath, “Okay everyone.” She said, getting ready to open the door, “It’s showtime!”

“Charlie!” A man’s voice says, you couldn’t see him, but his voice rings a bell.

“Hey da-” The blonde man runs up to his daughter, and squeezes her tightly, you finally got a good look at his face and… holy shit, it’s Lucifer.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” He exclaimed in a babyish tone, yep, Lucifer. “It’s uh, good to see you too, dad!”

Luci let’s go of his daughter after a moment, Charlie steps to the side, presenting to her father “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” She says, as confetti pops out of two of Pentious’ non working canons.

“Wait…” Lucifer murmurs, before his eyes widen.

“Y/N?!”

You grin, ‘Fuck yes, he remembers me!’ You think to yourself.

“Hi again, Luci.” You say, a wide smile present on your face, as you approach him.

You both smile at eachother, before some incoherent, awkward mumbles are exchanged, ‘Shit, I did not think this through.’ You thought. Then both just settle on giving eachother an awkward but friendly hug.

“Uh… Dad?” Charlie said, focusing both of your attentions to her, “You know eachother?”

“Oh, me and dear Y/N here go way back, we used to fling around if ya know what I mean!” Luci said, pointing finger guns at his daughter awkwardly, as she gave an awkward yet also disturbed smile, as your face flushes a bright red.

Vaggie steps forward. “Wait. Y/N? Like the Adam’s sister Y/N?” She asks, eyeing you in shock, “Heh. Yeah. A lot has happened since I fell.” You say bashfully.

Everyone kinda stares for a moment, sort of in shock, they had no idea you had a relationship, let alone you fell from Heaven, let alone you were Adam’s sister.

“So uh…” Lucifer starts awkwardly. “Who’s up for pancakes?”

Bonus Scene -

“So this is what you’ve been up to since Eden? Gotta say, you’ve let yourself go.” Lucifer jokes, as Adam attempted to toss him around. “You judging me? You’re the most hated being in all of creation!” Adam says, flying after him.

“Well you’re first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer her.” He said, putting a ‘V’ to his lips with his fingers. “Or the second.” He spoke, continuing to fly. “Or Hell, even your sister!” He said laughing, thrusting his hips back and forth, referring to what they’ve done in bed. “Bicka-chow-cho!”

“I will fucking end you!” You heard your brother scream to your (ex)boyfriend.

#hazbin hotel #x reader #mio’s writing ! ☆#fanfiction #x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x you #lucifer magne #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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velocesainz · 19 days

Text

Pining turned jealousy

Percy Jackson masterlist | Main masterlist| Taglist |

Summary: Leo likes you and has liked you ever since he came to camp. He hasn’t had the guts to say anything but an incident with a close friend of yours changes everything

Warnings: smut, degradation, characters are 18-19

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Poseidon!fem!reader; Luke Castellan x reader (platonic)

Leo pov:

I had just finished a project I was working on for a whole week.

I felt accomplished and went out for a walk and to get some fresh air

As I walked along I saw y/n with Luke

They seemed to be having a lot of fun laughing and talking

I’ve like y/n ever since I joined camp but I’ve never even been able to talk to her

I’m sure she doesn’t even know I exist

She’s the daughter of the big three and an absolute hero

She’s so cool and popular and I’m just me.

Both of them sat down by the lake and I sat down a little far away from them Sk they wouldn’t notice me

Luke pov:

I could see Leo watching and following me and y/n to our usual hangout spot next to the lake. Y/n and Leo have liked each other for so long yet they are oblivious of the others feeling for them.

I came up with a plan to finally get these two idiots together at last. The whole camp has been waiting for this moment to come.

I scooted closer to y/n and placed my hand on her waist pulling her close to me. Making sure Leo could see everything

I saw rage fill his eyes as I whispered dumb stuff about her brother to her and watched her laugh her lungs out

Noticing he still hadn’t made any moves yet I decided to go for my last resort.

I pecked her on the cheek and she stopped talking and stared at me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Leo stomping his way over grabbing u/n who was now completely red and dragged her away.

My mission was complete and now they would finally stop looking like sad little idiotic puppies in love

Leo pov:

I don’t know what happened to me but when I saw Luke kiss y/n I saw red.

Rage consumed me and I walked over to both of them grabbing y/n and dragging her with me to her cabin

When we got there I threw her onto her bed, climbing over her and pinning her down “You’re such a bad little whore you know that? Spending intimate moments and time with other men when you clearly belong with me” I whispered into her ear

“You know if this weren’t the circumstance I would’ve taken my time with you. But you’ve been a very bad girl so don’t expect me to be gentle” I warned her as I started to take her clothing as well as mine off

I slowly shoved my cock inside her tight wet little pussy earning a loud moan from y/n

I started thrusting in and out almost immediately not giving her time to adjust

“Yea you like that you cock slut? Like when I’m fucking you’re like this baby? All hard and Roth with no mercy” I asked

She responded with a loud moan which told me she couldn’t be more happy

We both approached our climax as I could feel her walls clenching around me

“Cum whore, cum for me”

After we both caught our breaths I cleaned her up and we both went to sleep cuddling not caring about what anyone had to say

Grateful to be in each others arms at last

A/n: Sorry if it was short hope you all enjoyed this fic, as always leave me feedback and recommendations. I’m sorry for being so slow with writing fics but uni has been kicking my ass, I’ll try and update more let’s see kissies ✨

#percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson smut #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy pjo #percy series #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan

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blitzxiiru · 1 year

Note

U talked about people giving u scar ideas (in my case even more scar ideas).

P.S.: I LOVED the picture of Leo you drew with electricity scars! They looked very cool! I like how you did, at least with that picture, made them glow, just to make them stand out a bit more; looked awesome. Also, Leo looked hella feral in that picture, and I am ALWAYS here for feral Leo, lol.

And I just saw some clips and amvs (one of those clips being from TMNT clips tumblr) where Shredder almost crushed Leo to death and also threw him very far, hitting a car. I would link it, but tumblr hates me, and doesn't let me (at least currently) link stuff anymore in asks (maybe the Tumblr Gods will let me do so again someday...).

And then later on, in a different scene, he started trying to crush Leo's throat with his clawed hands (man, Shredder, haven't you already done enough damage to Leo's throat and/or windpipe, like sheesh, man!).

Also, since someone mentioned April (you drew her so pretty! And I liked the scars you gave her), Casey defin. would have SOME scars too. Like, for sure some head ones, pretty sure that dude got some and/or a lot of head injuries in that show and/or just scars from being such a brawler.

Also, Raph and Karai are brain worm/brain worms scars buddies! I say that, but that is sad as hell, poor Raph and Karai. I could see them bonding over it though. And Leo and Mikey just worrying about them when they talk about it (Donnie would too, but like, Leo is very much an overprotective sibling and would worry about and/or dote on his siblings/family/close friends, and Mikey worries about his big bros a lot, and knows when they are upset) sometimes.

we fr giving these boys more scars as if they don’t have enough of it already HHAHAHHAHA

thank you!!! i had a hell of a time time drawing that piece btw, it was super fun to draw feral leo. he really deserves to let off some steam.

i think i remember that scene, there was actually a recreation of it during that halloween episode in season 5 if i recall correctly?? poor boy got his arms crushed twice, by the SAME damn person..

shdgsjbdjsbd thank you again <33 april and casey was great to draw too, dude you have no idea how much i needed to touch up on drawing actual people since being hooked on tmnt bc i went literal weeks drawing turtles instead of humans LMAO thank god for muscle memory or else i would’ve forgotten completely. and, yes, absolutely! casey would def have some head injuries, and more centring around his arms and hands too. he’s buddies with mikey, since they both get head injuries so frequently.

karai and raph would tease each other about their brainworm scars lmao, they’d compare which one is nastier and neither would back down until the others have to mediate the two idiots into a draw. this happens everytime they meet btw

hope you enjoy my little doodles about these senarios :)

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tink27 · 1 year

Text

I am dying for an Au where the party left Eddie's body in the upside down and he (for whatever reason) is not dead, and comes back but with significant memory loss.

He ends up in Steve's back yard, covered in his own blood and the muck of the upside down. He's faced with the absolute relief and sadness on Steve's face, as he tried to rush towards Eddie only to see him flinch away, eyes wide and confused.

It takes a while but Eddie begins to trust Steve, he gets re-introduced to the party and slowly but surely his memories are coming back, sometimes in flashes of memory but sometimes without Eddie even realising himself. Like when he calls Dustin "Henderson" without anyone ever reminding him of Dustin's last name, or when he started humming Dio in the kitchen while he drank his coffee (Eddie had no idea what he was even humming and it took Steve about an hour of sifting through Eddie's old tapes to figure out it was Dio's Rainbow in the Dark).

But the memories are also confusing sometimes, particularly when it comes to Steve Harrington. Eddie knows Steve, he's the person Eddie came to rely on the most since he came back. Steve lets him stay in his house, he makes sure Eddie eats enough proper meals and he can tell when things are getting too much and keeps the others out of the house for a while.

But Eddie has memories.

Steve looking a bit younger, but so much harsher. Indifferent and cool as a freckled boy spits mean words at his side. Steve with his arm around some pretty girls waist, smiling at her and sneering at Eddie.

None of it seems right. Because when Eddie looks at Steve, the Steve in front of him, he cannot accept these memories. Steve has only ever looked at him with the utmost gentleness, but still Eddie can't shake them.

So one day, in Steve's kitchen he tests it out with a phrase that's been rattling around in his head "King Steve" he says it softly, and he isn't sure what to expect. Confusion maybe, something to confirm that it was all some insecure figment of Eddie's overactive imagination.

But what he got was a look of pure hurt. Eddie had never seen Steve look so hurt. He immediately had the urge to take it back, to pull the words back into his mouth and take away whatever pain he had given Steve but he knew he couldn't, so he tried again "Steve?"

"you remember, huh?" His voice sounded defeated, like some awful thing he was waiting for had finally happened, like the other shoe had finally dropped.

"some things..." Eddie felt wrong footed but he knew he needed to consolidate these memories in his head with the broken boy in front of him "but they don't really make sense"

He waited to see if Steve would talk, fill in some gaps but he doesn't, so Eddie continues "it seems like" He was hesitant to even say it "you used to be mean... to me?"

Steve scoffed, seemingly more at himself than at Eddie "I used to be mean to a lot of people Eds. I've been trying to get better, to be better, for the past couple of years but, that sorta stuff follows you around"

He wasn't sure how to respond, even though he knew the memories were real, it still didn't feel right, those memories weren't his Steve. "But, you're not like that anymore." He left it like that, staying it like fact.

"no. I'm not like that anymore, I hope so at least" he seems sheepish, and still so uncomfortable

"you're not." Eddie took a step closer, and placed his hand on Steve's arm "you're good, Steve."

Eddie's language hadn't been what it used to be, and Dustin and the others were doing a Lord of the Rings book club to help Eddie regain some of his past vocabulary, but he hoped for now that even simple words could get across how he felt about Steve.

"you helped me, I was alone and scared and you did everything you could do" he tilted his head, trying to get Steve to meet his eyes "You saved me, Steve Harrington."

And that seemed to be more than enough, because in a sudden rush of movement Steve pulled Eddie into a tight hug, and as they stayed their, tangled up in Steve's kitchen, neither of them mentioned when Steve's shoulders began to shake and Eddie's shoulder dampened.

Instead Eddie just placed his hand in Steve's hair, and held him for as long as he needed. No matter what memories he regained of that young indifferent version of Steve, he knew all that matters was this boy in his arms right now. The kind and selfless Steve Harrington.

The Steve Harrington who saved him, in all the ways that mattered.

#i dont know where this came from #I just had an idea #and then i couldnt stop writing #Dialogue is really out of my comfort zone when it comes to writing #hope it isnt terrible!!#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #gay steve harrington #steve x eddie #stranger things s4 #steddie fics #stranger things au #gay eddie munson #ficlet #memory loss #eddie lives #steve harrington is a good person

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cyberpunkaddict · 4 months

Text

2023 Letter.

Here we are again. It’s been a year since my last letter. This is my last post for 2023. I included a bunch of unreleased VP again.

Read the letter below:

This year has been a rollercoaster in many ways. It’s really easy to focus on the negative because it seems to take up so much space. But it’s important to take some time and think about the positive in life too to get some perspective.

Life is made up of tiny moments of happiness after all. ❤️

The Cyberpunk 2077 community is very important to me. "Stuff" we may or may not agree with is bound to happen no matter where we are, IRL or online. But no matter who you are, in the end we all want the same things; feel like we belong, make connections with people, escape real life for a while, have fun and feel safe.

I'm a broken record lol, but... Without you there wouldn't even be a community whatsoever. Thank you for being part of it and making it fun! ❤️

So, back to reminiscing on 2023...

If you know me, you know I'm a stubborn perfectionist. With that comes pessimism, but I’ve grown and gained a more positive outlook on life, which is something I’m proud of. It's not often I'm proud of something, striving for perfectionism and all, so admitting this is a huge achievement for me. I know I'm always gonna be a perfectionist when it comes to my art though, but that just forces me to be a better artist, so it's not all bad... As long as I don't overdo it, which is something I'm working on. My goal for 2024 is to stop being so hard on myself and upload more to Tumblr. ❤️

I started doing OC gif giveaways this year, and I definitely wanna do more, and not just gifs but VP too. I do these because I want to spread, excuse the cringe lol, happiness and positivity. I love to give back. It gives me purpose in life.

I started modding as well, which I wanted to do for months, but I was too scared because it seemed so complicated... But I did it. I'm proud I went out of my comfort zone for once.

So, Dear Everyone ❤️, once again...

Thank you for sharing your incredible art, writing, cosplay, mods, and the list goes on. I hope 2023 treated you well, if not, let's make 2024 beyond amazing! I want you to know that you make my day better no matter what is happening in my life. The simplest joke in a tag or a simple hi in a DM make me smile and laugh. And if this is how I feel, just know you make other people you've never met before feel this way too. I think that's pretty cool.

One day I might have to leave Cyberpunk 2077 behind, because that's how life goes sometimes. And that’s sad to think about... I’m not ready to put it behind me yet. At the same time it means that this community, and my OCs and yours will always have a place in my heart.

I will never forget you.

Here's to another year filled with lots of happy moments. ❤️

Bye 2023! Hello 2024!

Vicky

To everyone who made it this far, I have a little surprise... I’d like to do VP with one of your OCs. Comment on this post and tell me what you’re proud of in 2023. In a week-ish I’ll pick a random person (from the comments). :3

❤️❤️❤️

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Part One

Part Two: Sensory Processing

Josh Futturman was actually excited to go to work. This rarely happened, but the prospect of Brynne Johansson made it happen. All day, he had done all of his work as a janitor and Kronish Labs as quickly as possible, hoping to see her by the time he got to her office.

Of course, his closest work friend, Ray, had noticed this upon seeing Josh pass Brynne Johansson’s office as slowly as possible.

“Aw, come on! Not you, too!” Ray exclaimed.

“What?!” Josh said defensively.

“Man… I’ve been trying to woo Dr. Scarlett Johansson with my security guard charm fiancé I started here! I swear, I’ve seen half of the other security guards pretend to hear about ‘situations’ near her office,” he frowned.

“I’m not spying on her!” he promised, going about his work. “And she does kinda resemble Scarlett Johansson…”

Ray just shook his head, leaving him to whatever he was doing. Josh quickly took care of cleaning the floors, anxious to peer into Brynne Johansson’a office. Luckily, she appeared to be in at the moment, peacefully filling out paperwork as she listened to music on her headphones.

Josh remembered the first time he ever came near her office, surprised to see that she was a music person.

“Hey,” Josh spoke up nervously.

Brynne took off her headphones as she looked up, surprised to see him. “Hi,” she said.

“What are you listening to?” he asked her out of curiosity.

“Depeche Mode,” she replied, before her one-track mind kicked in, “What’s going on, did something happen in the lab?” she asked automatically.

“What? Oh. No,” he responded quickly, “Sorry. I just… had something to give you,” he said sheepishly.

The young woman looked up curiously, not understanding.

“I, uh… Got stuff for a couple people around the office. Christmas, you know?” he asked awkwardly.

“Oh. That’s thoughtful of you,” she replied.

“Yeah, it’s just small stuff, you know? I got Ray a gift card for that sandwich place he likes, and I got Kronish one of those candles he likes. Mostly because Dr. Camillo hates that he burns them in the office,” he admitted.

Brynne smiled. “I got him one too.”

“Really?” Josh laughed as she just nodded.

He nervously reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box of chocolates, with a small note attached.

“Anyways. Kronish said you liked these, so I thought I’d wish you an early… whatever you may or may not celebrate,” he concluded.

“Oh, wow. Thank you,” Brynne said kindly. “I appreciate it, a lot. And as for celebrating, you could say Christmas, but I honestly don’t really celebrate apart from doing stuff for other people,” she confessed.

Josh nodded understandingly.

“But thank you, wow, this is perfect,” she told him, opening the note in front of him.

Josh watched her in fear, hoping she wouldn’t think he was weird and hate him.

“‘To Dr. Johansson. Thanks for letting me take out your Redbull cans and chicken Caesar salads. From, Josh’,” she read in amusement. “Wow, my garbage sounds sad.”

“Personally, I think it’s pretty cool garbage,” Josh joked.

“Well. Thanks, Josh,” she remarked. “You can just call me ‘Brynne’, by the way.”

“Right. Brynne. Sorry,” he nodded quickly.

“Thanks again, for the chocolates,” she said softly. “That’ll probably be my lunch.”

Josh stopped for a moment, remembering what Kronish had told him the day before.

“It—It doesn’t have to be!” he offered without thinking.

“Hmm?” she questioned.

“Uh… I was actually just about to head to that Indian place across the street for my break… if you’d rather do that,” he stumbled over his words, praying she wouldn’t think he was creepy.

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds fucking great, actually,” she nodded, looking down at her designer watch. “Ten on the dot. Let’s do it,” she nodded.

“Great,” Josh blurted out, holding in his screams of excitement.

He was shocked she actually said yes, following her as she walked out of the office.

“I haven’t actually gone out for lunch in months,” Brynne sighed as she took off her lab coat.

As the two of them left the building, Josh felt as if his going to lunch with the Dr. Johansson should’ve been illegal. He saw Ray’s suspicious glance at him as they left together. Josh walked out of the building feeling like he had just committed some sort of heist.

“Have you ever been here?” Josh Futturman asked her as they reached the restaurant.

“Yeah, it’s kind of my go-to whenever I leave the office for lunch,” she explained. “Have you?”

“No,” Josh said truthfully, “I’ve actually just been meaning to try it out.”

They entered the restaurant, a couple of the men in the room naturally turning to look at Brynne. Josh felt incredibly out of place, standing next to her in his janitor’s uniform. He silently cursed her perfectly fitted black dress.

“What do you want?” Brynne asked as they approached the cashier.

“What should I get?” he asked her, never actually having had Indian food before.

“Most people tend to get the butter chicken,” she explained, “With the garlic naan.”

“Sounds great,” Josh nodded, turning to the guy at the counter. “I’ll have the butter chicken with the garlic naan. What about you?” he asked her.

“I’m getting the same,” she responded.

“Two of the butter chicken with garlic naan, then, please,” Josh said as he handed over his card.

“Are you sure?” Brynne asked him, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said kindly, “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh, just a Coke,” she told the cashier, “Thanks.”

“Two Cokes, please,” Josh smiled as the guy took his card.

“Thank you,” Brynne said, pleasantly surprised.

“No problem. My treat,” he said nonchalantly, “You haven’t eaten out of the office in a while.”

“True,” she nodded as they sat down at a table with their drinks. “So,” she began, making him nervous.

He panicked, and couldn’t stop staring into her pretty brown eyes. Josh couldn’t think around Brynne Johansson, mostly because being around her heightened and engaged his senses entirely. The perfection of her face, and the beauty of her body, and the distinct smell of her perfume captivated him.

She was like no woman he’d ever met before. She commanded respect from people in a way that explained why she was the head of her department. Something about Brynne made the hair on Josh’s arms stand up, and something told him it really had nothing to with her job title.

And many other male employees at Kronish Labs, including Ray, would’ve said she also made something else stand up.

“What do you do in your free time, Futturman?” Brynne asked as she sipped on her soda.

Josh had no idea how to answer that question. He had no real hobbies; all he really did was wake up, go to work, play video games, and then sleep to do the exact same thing all over again.

“Uh… I don’t know, I like playing video games,” he shrugged nonchalantly, hoping he wasn’t coming off as too pathetic.

“Oh, that’s cool. I wish I could’ve gotten into that sort of thing,” she admitted. “I don’t really do much outside of work.”

“At least you’re a scientist,” Josh provided kindly, “That’s pretty impressive.”

“In a way,” Brynne shrugged nonchalantly.

“What’s that like, in the dating world?” Josh wondered, although simultaneously trying to seduce for himself whether or not she was in a relationship. “I’m sure that’s definitely a talking point.”

“You’d think so, but saying that you work for an STD treatment center isn’t exactly as sexy as you think,” she pointed out.

“Hmm,” Josh nodded, frowning as he realized he wasn’t exactly being flattering.

He figured at least he knew she was probably single. He watched as she thanked the servers for placing their food on the table in front of them. Josh realized that no matter what she did, no matter how simple or mundane it was, Brynne always looked beautiful doing it.

It was something about the way her lips moved when she smiled, and the way her eyes moved in her head. Josh couldn’t quite explain it, but he was taken with her.

“What do you do outside of work?” he asked curiously. “I mean… I know you probably don’t, like, rescue pandas, or anything, but… I don’t know, do you have any interests?” he rephrased.

“Mmm…” she considered the question, her face appealing to look at even as she thought. “I used to do photography,” she told him.

“Oh, that’s so cool,” Josh commented in surprise. “What did you take pictures of?” he asked as he ate.

The food was spicier than he’d expected, but he held in his reactions as best as he could so as not to seem like a child in front of Brynne.

“I picked up photography from my uncle,” she explained. “He was a big car guy; belonged to a car club and everything. I mostly did cars, and motorcycles.”

“That’s awesome,” Josh said in awe, not expecting that from her.

He knew he should’ve realized she was a huge car person. He’d seen her get out of her car in the building’s parking lot before. It was a beautiful classic car, some kind of black Impala or something from the 60’s. It was in perfect condition, and always seemed to shine, not unlike its driver.

“I wish I got into cars,” he confessed. “As a guy, I kinda feel like that’s something I’m supposed to know about.”

“It’s never too late,” Brynne pointed out. “It’s good to know about cars.”

“Your car, it’s that black one I always see in the parking lot, right?” he asked. “The classic car?”

“Yup,” she nodded.

“It’s nice,” he complimented her, “Really nice. What is it?”

“It’s a ‘66 Impala,” she responded. “It was my dad’s.”

“Cool,” he remarked.

He didn’t mean to, but he watched her as she ate. He’d been talking to her for at least ten minutes now, but he still couldn’t get over her; he couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually having a conversation with Dr. Johansson, let alone having an early lunch with her.

Then, she said the worst thing possible.

“Are you staring at me, Futturman?”

Josh froze in disbelief. “I— Uh…”

“It’s okay,” she said coolly, her eyes dark with mischief. “I don’t mind.”

Josh felt himself falling apart as he struggled to explain himself. But ultimately, he realized he couldn’t.

“You make me nervous,” he smiled awkwardly, embarrassed at himself.

“How do you think I became the head of my department at twenty-four?” she raised an eyebrow playfully.

Josh watched her as she just continued on as if everything was perfectly normal, realizing she hardly considered the effect she had.

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #future man 2017 #future man x reader #futureman #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader

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badchoicesworld · 9 months

Note

Hello hello :)

I hope you're having a good day!

May I request Hobie and Spider-Noir with a s/o who cries a lot?

Not only out of sadness, but out of everything. They're happy? They cry. They're frustrated? They cry. It's just their body's natural reaction to any intense emotion. Even like, if they're listening to a song that itches their brain just right, boom, tears (talking of personal experience, me? Absolutely.)

I'm just kinda insecure about my crying habits lol, I need reassurance. (I cried to System Of A Down and Slipknot, send help)

Thank you and sending lotsa love :)

hobie brown and spider-noir with an s/o that cries a lot !

ok, first i wanna stress that you should never feel insecure about your natural bodily functions- ever. crying is completely natural and a normal way to express any type of feeling, so i hope you gain a little confidence in your ability to feel so strongly :] it’s a beautiful thing

second, you should check out demon slayer in you haven’t, there’s this character that always cries at everything and he’s the strongest ! gyomei my love

third, these are kinda short and i’m very sorry, i struggled w noir

separate scenarios

warnings: crying ?? insecurity ?

pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader, spider-noir x gn!reader

requests: refer to this bad boy

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i bet hobie’s one of them guys that gives out great advice about mental health or just in general and doesn’t take his own advice

he’s too cool to cry, he claims

but suddenly it’s not cool for everyone else to NOT cry

also uses common sense and figures that crying is a completely natural reaction when you feel any type of emotion, won’t be embarrassed by you if you start bawling your eyes out in public if you happen to feel happy to be spending time together

he just smiles and rubs your back, shaking his head but in a playful way since this is a common occurrence

does one of those side hug things where he hooks his arm around your neck and squeezes you to his side a few times, talking about “let it out”

it’s nice in a way, he knows that you’re crying cause you’re happy to be spending time with him

he’s close buddies with pav who i can also see crying at a lot of things, man’s not judgemental

and he can of course understand crying at sad things ! if you two are kicked back one day and you’re violently bawling at a movie that’s meant to be a tear jerker, he’s not gonna shame you

he’s probably thinking about how accomplished the movie directors must be/feel while simultaneously shaming the big company who produced it

it’s nothing new and he’d rather not address it directly by asking you each time if you’re okay when you cry, he imagined it would get irritating and make you feel like it’s wrong

so he probably does something to show he’s there, an arm around your shoulder, maybe he ruffles your hair or something if you’re excited crying (i do this w my special interests, there’s no shame)

overall, hobie just wants you to feel comfortable enough to cry at all- this stuff should be normalised after all, no reason to even justify it to begin with

he may even encourage you to cry, get it out your system

he definitely understands frustrated crying, i imagine he’s a man who’s had his fair share of frustrations and sometimes crying is the only way to cope

if it bothers you so much, he might try introducing you to other coping mechanisms that he personally does

encourages you to get into music, play an instrument, do something spontaneous with your appearance

if he ever catches you crying over one of his own creations, the man’s floored with this appreciation

the last fucking thing he’ll do is ever make you feel guilty for crying, he’s having none of that and he’ll silently scowl in such disgust at the people that do

it’s not cool to shame peoples emotions, no invalidation here

if he’s in the right mood and you’re crying for something, happily he might just hype you up honestly

go bestie go, cry your eyes out

noir

someone else who sees nothing wrong with crying- he admittedly associates it most with grief so definitively panics the first few times he sees you crying at anything

but explain how crying is your response to everything and he’ll relax

he’s probably envious of your ability to feel so strongly about everything, since he struggles to feel a thing

the man literally lets matches burn to his fingertips out of hopes of feeling anything

that being said, he doesn’t want you to think like you now get to feel ungrateful for your tendencies to cry at everything since he envies it- crying is still taxing as fuck and you’re entitled to your own functions, he just wished he could take a page or two from your book

nine times outta ten he will probably assume each time that you’re crying out of sadness, he’s horrible at reading the room

it’s a pretty instant reaction from him to ask what’s wrong and assume the worst, man’s is instantly ready to start a fight if you’re crying for something bad that’s happened

makes a really big deal out of hugging you and dramatically wrapping his coat around you before suspiciously listing all of your enemies

he’s more of a “cheer up, sport” kinda guy and is a lot more insistent about talking to him about your feelings

partly because he want to understand the feelings, mostly because he wants to help you

probably cites some old 30’s techniques on how to make your face less puffy after crying if it bothers you- a really bizarre remedy

he’s also heard some more modern techniques, like chewing gum when cutting onions

he assumes that works for crying as a whole

happy crying takes him some time to wrap around his head, but he’ll get it

it’s a little surprising to him at first that you cry at every little thing, but that’s okay

he cant imagine that he’ll ever get over that initial surprise, seeing you cry at all immediately catches his attention - he’ll eventually stop assuming it’s bad, but he does attempt to comfort you each time without fail

you could be crying in such joy and he’ll fail to read the room, strokes your head while talking to you like you’re a dog that’s just had their paw stepped on

thinks he’s helping an incredible amount, has a small ego boost when he does successfully comfort you

he really does embrace it instead of trying to avoid it, which he imagined would be arrogant anyway

he’s envious, overall

good for you for being so in touch with your emotions

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

IM SORRY THIS KINDA SUCKS IM BAD AT CRYING

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #imagine #oneshot #headcanon #ask #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie x gn!reader #gn reader #spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x gn!reader

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lauralot89 · 1 year

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Loveless

I'm late on this because the book was published in 2020, but I only heard about it in the last month when I was reading an article about asexuality in fiction but in case anyone is out of the loop like me let me tell you about this glory

Loveless is a YA novel by Alice Oseman, author of Heartstopper and Solitaire. It tells the story of Georgia Warr, freshman at Durham University, and her realization that while she's in love with the idea of romance, the actuality of a romantic/sexual relationship repulses her.

Alice Oseman herself is aroace, which makes perfect sense because throughout the novel I kept asking myself, "How does she know? How does she know?! How did she get these thoughts out of my head?"

for my fellow ace and/or aro people, let me quote some of the lines that just got me straight in the soul:

"I had a theory that a lot of people's "celebrity crushes" were just faked to fit in."

"I was disgusted by the thought of him near me. Wanting things from me. That wasn't normal, was it?"

"Oh, God, this thing is actually real, it's not just in fanfics and movies. And I'm supposed to be doing it too."

"Did I even know what romantic feelings felt like?"

"He was clearly the sort of person who I should like romantically. Who I could like romantically. He looked like a boyfriend. I loved his personality. I'd loved his personality for years. So I could fall in love with him. With a little bit of effort. Definitely."

"I thought I'd understood what all these romantic things would feel like--butterflies and the spark and just knowing when you liked someone. I'd read about these feelings hundreds of times in books and fanfic. I'd watched way more romcoms than was probably normal for an eighteen-year-old. But now I was starting to wonder whether these things were just made up."

"Straight people don't think shit like that."

"Just because I'd never liked anyone didn't mean I never would. Did it?"

"I thought all the movies were exaggerating, but you're all really out there just craving genitals and embarrassment. This has to be some kind of huge joke."

"How could I feel so sad about giving up these things that I did not actually want?"

"I felt like I was grieving. I was grieving this fake life, a fantasy future that I was never going to live."

"How was it fair that everyone got to feel that except me?"

"I never had any crushes when I was a child. Not any real ones, anyway. Sometimes I confused friendships for them, or just thinking a guy was really cool."

"For a long time, I was just dating and having sex because that's what people did. And I wanted to feel like those people."

"You've been so confused about stuff. You really thought we could be together, because you do love me. Not in a romantic way, but just as strongly."

"Oh. This is an asexual thing. I forgot other people are obsessed with having sex."

seriously the entire time I spent with this book I just kept asking "was this written for me specifically?" because that's exactly how it felt.

It is a gorgeous book that explores that bizarre feeling of not knowing the word for what you are, not even knowing that you are something out of the ordinary because we don't define ourselves by what we lack and we just expect that one day, it'll happen and we'll be like everyone else. That struggle of trying to differentiate between loving someone and being in love with them, and trying to make the former into the latter and hurting everything in the process.

It is so good. 10/10, no complaints

also there's an asshole in the university's queer pride group who doesn't think aces belong and everyone hates him so that's fantastic, aphobes fuck off

in conclusion I highly recommend it

#Laura reads Loveless #Loveless #Loveless novel #Alice Oseman #Loveless book #aroace #actuallyasexual #actuallyaromantic #asexuality #aromanticism #ace representation #aro representation #asexuality in fiction #aromanticism in fiction

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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WIBTA if I asked my friend to stop joke-insulting me?

I (20X) am a part of a few friend groups, the newest one being a trio of me, Jamie (20M) and Tessa (21F) (not real names for privacy reasons).

I only met them about a year ago more or less through college but we got along fairly quickly. I'm usually more quiet and reserved with new people so for the first few months of me knowing them I was just this kind, polite and quiet kid who barely talked to them (maybe like once a week and even that was about classes since Jamie and I are the same major so we ended up with a lot of shared classes). I'd make sure to always be the ideal friend and be pleasant to make them happy.

But the thing is I am very different when I feel comfortable with people. And over time I got more and more comfortable and felt like I belong with my college friends (I even asked to change my schedule to take almost all of my classes with Jamie). So one day me and Jamie were going to my dorm when I realized my keys are not on my person and I have no idea where they were. Naturally, I panicked and me and him went looking through all of the places I've been to try to find the keys. After about half an hour of running around college he went to grab his phone from his jacket and lo and behold, my keys were there (apparently I asked him to keep them for me while I went to the bathroom). I was so relieved but I don't know what came over me so I just punched him and called him a whore and he looked really shocked for a second but then he just laughed and said I'm a dickhead. And since then it's been pretty much a joking insult war between the two of us, when once we used to call each other smart or cool now it's just saying mean stuff (while not meaning it obviously)

And as much as I have fun joking around with him sometimes I get sad about it because I worry he actually thinks those things (even though he clarified most of the things he says about me are not ment to be taken seriously) and he does still say nice things about me sometimes and we still have serious conversations and take each other seriously but I miss when it was just that because I have plenty of jokes with my non college friends and I was so happy to get new ones because I missed having people to actually talk about stuff with and not just say nonsense all the time.

So I thought about asking him to lay off the insults a little even though I'm the one who basically started it and I still do it a lot myself but every time I just end up feeling bad and wishing I'd just been serious for once. But I feel like an ass because again, I started it and it's unfair to let myself laugh at him and then get upset when he does the same to me. But again I don't really want to laugh at him it just comes out naturally because when I'm comfortable with someone it just happens.

Tessa keeps saying we fight non stop and I know she knows and we all know it's not serious but I just hate that idea even as a joke, fighting. I don't wanna fight I just want a comfortable space to be myself and have people like me and have fun with them.

So would I be the asshole if I told Jamie I don't really like the play fighting anymore even though it all started with me?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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the-s1lly-corner · 7 months

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Seeing Kinger stuff is so nice gosh! Would it be cool to get the rest of the fluff alphabet with him please? Or if that's too much the ones you'd like to write about most

Kinger fluff alphabet! the whole thing!

two things one is more so one of my personal woe things unrelated to you but i deleted my masterlist immediately after finishing it because i didnt like the layout of it; 3 hours down the drain SOBS other thing! imma go ahead and link the other fluff alphabet stuff so its a complete list! actually third surprise thing, WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I ACCIDENTALLY FORGOT TO PUT P IN THE FLUFF ALPHABET/lh/nm i fixed it now but i cant believe i skipped a letter i feel so dumb

ABSTRACT- if you were to ever abstract he would probably abstract himself. i mean if the things about queener/queenie are true and they were close, then that would mean this guy would lose a loved one TWICE. that would most definitely break someone, and kinger is already on the edge as it is. if he somehow doesnt abstract, he probably becomes even more paranoid; kind of shutting everyone out almost because he sure as hell knows he cant take a third heartbreak. rarely ever leaves his pillow fort, unless hes physically dragged out? sometimes he forgets you're gone, because he just refuses to believe the truth. sad stuff

BONDING- will rattle on and on about cool bug facts, if he has his own collection in his room he will show you it! maybe, if you want, he will let you hold some of the critters! tells a lot of stories, nicer ones from when things in the circus arent so... bad.. usually when hes in a good headspace! you get the feeling he embellishes his stories... not too different from a grandfather trying to make his experiences seem more glamorous and action packed than they really were

CUDDLING- he is very hard, due to him being a chess piece, but his clothes do a really good job at softening him! no arms :(... usually rests his hands on your back, or maybe has one on your shoulder and the other on your hip. switches between being big and little spoon, sometimes he wants to hold and sometimes he wants to be held

DATES- you can find them here!

EMOTION- kinger is... odd... im not sure where he lies, because i think sometimes he does have moments where he remembers thing and it overwhelms him, so that may be the main time hes the emotional one. however, i guess this entire time for emotional ive been focusing on more.. 'bad' emotions, but i think kinger would gush about how much he loves you, like WOAH! he is just overflowing with feelings right now

FAMILY- honestly he gives me dad vibes, if this dude doesnt already have kids in the real world (wow thats a sad thought... dude is like MIA probably and his kids are left to wonder where he went. double owie if queener/queenie was his real life wife before things happened) so if you guys make it back to the real world and unite, you're gonna be a step parent! would he like to have more kids with you? i think it depends, he would want it, though!

GIFT- you know how some people put bugs in like, cases to preserve them or something? i feel like he would give you those with some of his prettier bugs! loves anything you give him, he always keeps them stored safe in his room!

HARSH- you guys dont really get into arguments, i dont think! kinger doesnt like hiding things from you unless its something deeply personal, but otherwise hes an open book to you

IN HOUSE ADVENTURE- here!

JEALOUSY- its not so much as him being jealous as it is him being paranoid that something is going to happen to him or you, so! even if he wasnt worrying himself half to death he doesnt exactly seem like the jealous type to me, tbh

KISS- its time for my favorite thing for characters with no mouth!!! he boinks his face into yours, i actually wrote something for this! not gonna link it since its so short and i can easily relay the idea: but he would internally hype himself up (usually does this if this is the beginning of the relationship, he gets more confident as time goes on!), and just lightly 'pecks' your cheek before pulling away. loves kissing your cheeks as well as the back of your hands. loves being kisses where his mouth would be as well as his cheeks

LOVE LANGUAGE- quality time!! this man follows you around like a love sick puppy, because he loves you so much but also because again, he worries.. he also likes doing acts of service for you, makes him feel like hes capable of doing things on his own (which he is!). loves it when you return the favor via words of affirmation

MENDED- is he dreaming? is he imagining things again?

nope, its really you. somehow, you've recovered from abstracting, and you're now out of the cellar. he wants to hold you and never ever ever let you go, out of fear that hes going to come to his senses any second and youll be gone. wants to keep you in the pillow fort with him, or at least within his line of sight

NO- its less of an active dealbreaker and more of a "hey this is going to stress him out and probably hurt his mental health" but like, i dont think he would pair well with a really really intense person. like sure caien is pretty intense, but its not like caine is going to be spending a significant amount of time with him everyday, but like. you know? like i talk about some characters enjoying being on their toes and left guessing in regards to their partner, but kinger is NOT one of those people. he needs stability

PDA- less of a case where he actively and knowingly indulges in PDA and more so a case where he subconsciously holds onto your hand to keep you at arms length and to feel you. due to his lack of arms he has probably wandered off without you (and his hand) at least once. is not opposed to PDA, though, so long as its not like. insane

QUIET TIME- quiet time between the two of you is very rare. sure kinger can be very quiet when hes alone, but when hes alone with someone else, someone he cares so much about.. he cant help but fill the silence with words, to keep the ringing in his ears at bay .. so really quiet time is talking time

ROSES- ill mention it again in V (i wrote v before this section), he loves giving you roses especially on special occations! loves receiving flowers as well, he seems like a rose kind of guy as well

SHH- the one thing he doesnt like talking about is queener/queenie, well, more so the last few days leading up to her abstraction. it brings up. well, memories. on one hand he doesnt want to forget her, but on the other hand he doesnt want to bare the pain of those terrible memories

TUNES- THIS THIS THIS THIS ONE ALWAYS COME TO MY HEAD WHEN I THINK OF ROMANTIC HCS FOR SWEETIDEAS FOR OLDER GUYS IDK WHY

youtube

UPSET- im going back and forth with a lot of these as i fill in the list so! tying this in with E, i mention one of the only times he gets emotional is when he remembers some unfortunate events that took place in the circus. you're going to need to console him and bring him back to the present moment :(. when you're upset he tries to distract you, takes you to his fort, and tells you stories

VALENTINE- on the chance that he remembers what day it is, hes going to give you the most sterotypical date he can give to you. i think it might be because i can kind of see kinger as like, a classic/stereotypical romantic when it comes to you. flowers, he cant take you out to dinner so he takes you out to the digital lake to gaze at the clouds and watch the bugs pass

WANT- he wants a companion, he wants stability, and thats something he needs. he wants someone to be compassionate about him, his wellbeing, and his interests

XOXO- here! as well as Yearn!

ZZZ- if you guys go to sleep together its always in his room, where hes more comfortable. he also has a thing where he insists on being the one closer to the door; almost as if hes offering himself as protection to you should someone unwanted to come in. huh. always sleep holding onto you, snores like a dad

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #kinger imagine #kinger x you #kinger x reader

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dragonotaku-justineverything · 2 months

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My goodbye to Rooster Teeth.

I know this isn’t exactly recent news anymore, but yeah. Rooster Teeth is closing. It hit me hard when I heard that. I’m not going to lie, I haven’t watched much of their content at all in the past 6-7 years. Not since I was just starting college back in like 2018/2019.

I was also late to the party in the first place. I didn’t start watching Rooster Teeth until like 2013-2015? I believe it was the Minecraft let’s plays with Achievement City or the Rage Quit Series that got me started. RWBY, one of my all time favorite shows, came later. And after that, it was the podcasts, and Red vs. Blue. I only got to about season 15 I think, but it was definitely awe inspiring.

But despite that, RT was a huge part of my teenage years. I would come home from school and just watch countless videos from them. Sometimes stuff all the way back to their first years of creating things.

Now, it's all kind of just... over. I kind of feel like I've known some of them for so long, it hurts hearing this happen to them. Geoff especially hurt me... I cried as soon as I heard him on their response video thing. That man put his life, mind, heart, body, and soul into that company and now it's just gone. That feels so wrong to me. I hope all the employees will find great ways to keep following their passions and express all the creativity that they have shown over the last two decades. I know that no company can really last forever, but that doesn't make this any easier.

Obviously, I don't know what's going to happen to their intellectual properties, but I hope they don't end, RWBY in particular. It's been such a long journey for its creators and fans, this just can't be the end. I really do hope that it's continued. If not by Kerry or its other current writers and animators, then someone else. I heard that dillongoo, a former animator from RWBY (who makes really cool animations on youtube too), was interested in possibly buying the rights to RWBY which would be fitting in my opinion. We will all just have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I went and downloaded as much RWBY content as I could find and also some RT Animated Adventures because I don’t know what’s going to happen when the official shutdown comes. If the website and youtube channel gets shut down too then I don't want those to be lost for good. I wish I could download a lot more to save it all, but I just don't have that kind of time or storage space

I don't know what will happen in a few months after they're officially shut down, but regardless...

ROOSTER TEETH!

Thank you for the 21 years of joy, sadness, laughs, tears, comfort, suspense, adventure, inspiration, and family you gave us.

I wish you all the absolute best in your futures!

#rooster teeth #rwby #red vs blue #rvb #original post #personal rant #personal #goodbye rooster teeth #thank you #sfw

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quitealotofsodapop · 11 days

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Post-JTTW Stone Egged Au asks: Bad Ichor

Amassing some Post-Jttw egg asks with similar vibes of "reject gods. stay monke".

Hehehe many questions - main ref post here. Btw in future try sending one sentence questions/comment as replies to the specfic posts. sometimes I find asks referencing a post and I can't remember which one they're talking about.

Wukong in the au makes a concious effort to inform his cubs and his people of what his mother sacrificed to bring him into the world. Her statue and the paintings on the walls of Waterfall Curtain a tapestry of a ruler more fair and far grander that any celestial in the monkeys minds.

And when their little chaotic Eclipse twins found the Consort's resting place, more of Wukong's parent's sacrifice was uncovered. Along with the King's delayed twin brother Luzhen. The little prince grows up being taught how him and the "larger him" share parents, but they aren't here in person anymore but they love him very much. Luzhen has met his and Wukong's parents during the holidays that allow it and gladly runs up to Yē Lín and Shíhuā calling them "Baba" and "Mama" let he's known them all his life. He misses them a lot. But older Brother/Mama and Bama/Baba are really good to him so he isn't sad for long.

Wukong never lets Heaven realise that Luzhen isn't his biological child, as he fears the Emperor or Queen Mother attempting to sieze custody of Luzhen out of spite. The few higher up that know agree that baby monkeys need to be with monkeys.

Pigsy is still uber confused when Luzhen refers to Wukong as "mama" and "gege" in the same sentence tho.

Mac and Wukong are still super petty tho. They call upon their ancestors during the cubs' naming ceremonies to give their little one's blessings. And along with Shíhuā, Yē Lín and Guanyin making an appearance, the royal couple are invoked to send divine blessings of protection down onto earth. They know who's calling them. They aren't happy about it but they won't hurt the little ones.

MK is still a huge JTTW fan, even more so since to him it's like learning about all this cool stuff his family did back in the Before times! And he was there for a lot it! (even if he wasn't born yet). Him and his childhood besties deduced early on that they have *some* kind of family in the Celestial realm, just not sure who.

As for the Dragons:

Going by Ao Guang still being upset by the theft (barely, in Jttw his wife let Wukong have it), of the Staff, I imagine that dragon can be super petty. Ao Guang doesn't like Sun Wukong at all for the theft and the havoc in heaven, even if he was cordial to him during the Journey.

When the youngest son of the Ao Run/Ji is fatally wounded by the Samadhi Fire, basically every royal dragon had an attack of pstd to when they lost Ao Bing. They started to hate Sun Wukong for his recklessness.

Then DBK, Wukong's older sworn brother and godfather to his young twins, suddenly goes on a rampage forcing Heaven's hands.

The royal dragons basically took DBK's imprisionment as an excuse to bail out. Dragons don't like the gods, and they don't like Sun Wukong.

Mei's parents hadn't wanted to cut ties with the monkeys, but Mei was a super sickly dragon pup and Ao Yi simply couldn't emotionally deal with cutting off her family with that happening... her and Long Chen continue to send Wukong's family birthday presents, card, and the occasional letter - all covert like a spy mission. Other dragons who disagreed with the royals continue this practice as well.

And ofc S4:

Nezha: "Jade Emperor, there's a message for you from Sun Qi Xiaotian." Jade Emperor & Queen Mother: (*super intrigued! Did he find out about their connection?*) JE: "Send him in." Nezha, peaks head out of window: "Yeah he's in." MK: (*busts through wall like a Looney tunes character, shaking with anxiety*) MK, like he's on fast-forward: "Mister Jade Emperor sir I'm so sorry but Azure Lion's got this memory scroll and he trapped my family in it. He tricked me and my friends into freeing his old buddies from the Brotherhood but he wont let my mom loose and NOW he has my baby sister and little bro (it's complicated) and they're on their way here right now to kill you and my powers are glitching out and I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!" JE: "Uhhh..." Queen Mother, rolls her eyes and turns to her entourage: "Prepare the safehouse. Contact all the bodhisattvas and the Kings of Hell, and tell our armies to be ready for a big game hunt. And get this child some peaches." MK: (*heavily breathing/mid-panic attack. gives thumbs up*) Mei, peaking her head in: "Wow. Girl bossing!" Nezha: "And Sun Wukong my lady?" Queen Mother: (*looks over MK like he's the most precious thing in the universe. like she doesn't want to let him leave*) Queen Mother: "For the sake of my daughter... find Sun Wukong's mate the Six Eared Macaque. He knows those Brotherhood brutes well. It's the least he can do for giving my grandson such distress with that disappearing act." Rumble & Savage, appear from the Queen Mother's shadow: "Do we gets peaches too?" "I like melon better." Queen Mother: "Who are these?" MK, calming down: "My older little siblings. They're twins. Azure didn't take them. Probably because he couldn't catch them." Rumble & Savage, proudly flexing: "We're too fast!" "And we got our bama's powers!" Queen Mother: (*notices little red tiger-stripe-like markings on the twins' bodies*) "OH!!!! He had twins! My love! More wàizēngsūnérnǚ! Twins too!!" JE: (*frozen stiff on his throne, completely shocked*) "Can the brown one repeat what he said about celestial beasts coming to kill me?" MK, blanking at QM's use of chinese: "Did the Queen just say-" Orchard Maidens, quickly shuffling the Noodle Gang out of the Throne Room: "SO! How about those peaches?" "You'll learn soon enough." "Sorry, but we're going into lockdown." "He's taller than didi!" "Must be mother's genes that did that."

Basically MK is calling in the big guns early cus he's panicking, abd accidentally uncovers the fact that he's somehow the great-grandchild (by reincarnation nonsense) of the two rulers of Heaven!?

All he wanted when all this Scroll nonsense happened was a day off!

#post jttw stone egged au #jttw stone egged au #stone matriarch au #sun wukong #lmk sun luzhen #lmk xiwangmu #lmk queen mother of the west #lmk eclipse twins #lmk rumble and savage #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk mei's parents #lmk nezha #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid #long post

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artemistalkstoomuch · 4 months

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All of My Opinions on the Mean Girls Musical Movie

Firstly, loved all the original film references. Of course the obvious ones like having the same lines, the thing about fetch being slang from an old movie, but also!!

. Janis' suit being purple for spring fling!! and omg let's not even talk about how pretty Aul'il Cravalho was throughout the entire film. Her eye make-up was so impressive

. that part in Sexy where they're cycling through potential outfits and one of them is the white shirt with the purple bra holes cut out !!

Slightly upset about the fact they cut out Meet the Plastics and it ended up being more like, Meet Regina, but I get that. On the topic of songs, I understand a lot of them were cut out because they were "too theatrical" but I can still miss em!! Truthfully when I heard the new Stupid With Love I was devastated because it's one of my favourite songs and they fucking tiktokified it, but I actually think it works really well in the film- it gets the "cringy first proper love" aspect across, which is its purpose, so I'm happy.

THEY GOT RID OF "WHO HERE HAS EVER FELT PERSONALLY VICTIMISED BY REGINA GEORGE" which was absolutely criminal

AND THE PRINCIPAL AND MS NORBURY ARE TOGETHER which was actually adorable, and I didn't think about the fact that could be something that happened, but I'm very happy it did.

The bus at the end of Rather Be Me was such a jumpscare but also so funny. THEY MISSED OUT THE DIALOGUE TO DO IT THOUGH SADD. Plus she was so goofy that entire song?? Why was she running in and out of all of those random rooms.

The rumours spreading via phones looked half cool, but it's dated the film imo, which is what Tina Fey originally set out to avoid! Like "fetch" was made up slang so in years to come the film wouldn't seem cringy for having slang teens actually used to use at the time.

Big drum-roll: We did not see enough of Regina's meanness to actually justify her being a mean girl. A lot of it got filtered out through songs, and the majority of stuff was just her, like, responding badly to sexism?? Also tell me how I'm gonna villanise Renee Rapp she fucking SLAYED what a queen.

Also WHERE IS COACH CARR'S SEXUAL ASSAULT. THAT'S THE WHOLE REASON MS NORBURY GETS ARRESTED!!?? That, to me, is one of the biggest indicators in the original film of just how powerful the "Mean Girls" are, they know about this, and the other teachers don't. Not only that, but it highlights just how immature they are, because they don't do anything about it. They're girls who run the school, without having any sympathy or context to do something about bad stuff they know happens. It's just "a funny thing to write". Not having that made me sad tbh.

Changing the line to "you wrote this" in World Burn was clever but I wish we got to see more of the girls turning on each other, rather than direct fighting.

KEVIN G BEST SONG IN THE MUSICAL

Where was the 4 way phone call, DEVASTATING. We literally did not see the plastics actually interact with each other. There was no meanness, no impact, all we got were the "events" when OTHER THINGS HAPPEN. You could say it lost a lot of filler, but the filler was actually context! And part of what makes the film so good!

Devastated she doesn't say "damn you're mine" in Someone Gets Hurt. I do think it's hilarious they just didn't make the actor guy for Aaron sing at all lol

"That filter you use looks just like me" WHY. I appreciate the change from the line about weight but like, this DOES NOT MAKE SENSE. at least say "that filter you use has nothing on me" THE WHOLE POINT IS SHE'S ABOVE IT

I didn't like the extended version of Revenge Party, sorry, too used to the old version

And I did not like the girlbossification of Sexy. I get it's supposed to be powerful like "watch me as I run the world in shoes I cannot walk in" but I feel like the whole point of "I expect to run the world in shoes I cannot walk in" is supposed to point out the irony, like, being slightly critical of "modern feminism". I will say though that the wobble from avantika as she says that is superb.

Overall I thought the film was enjoyable and a nice blend of the original film and the musical, but I think both ended up losing individual meaning because of how much they intersect. You don't have time to appreciate the lyrics and power of the musical because you don't hear them all, and some of them get cut, and you can't follow the plot in a meaningful way because the songs are happening, and they skip a lot of context to fit them in.

Would totally watch it again though, if only to see Renee Rapp say "get in loser" cos she actually nailed that

#mean girls #mean girls musical #regina george #renee rapp #angourie rice #auli'i cravalho #tina fey #bebe wood #avantika #mean girls 2024 #musicals #long post

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butchsunbear · 15 days

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Full Moon Heat (Butch4Butch sub Werewolfx dom human)

Slight tw: Pretty graphic descriptions of a werewolf transformation

Kinks: Monsterfucking (obviously), Furry stuff (Also obvious), slight petplay? (Idk the werewolf gets talked to like a dog), dumbification, transformation.

Sylvia scrolled aimlessly on her phone, sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office while she waited for her girlfriend, Hannah, to be done with her checkup. Every month, at least a day before the full Moon, Hannah had to have exams done to check that her lycanthropy is mostly under control. They were cutting it close though, the full moon is tonight. Eventually, Hannah came out of the room. She looked uncomfortable, like way more uncomfortable than normal after one of these appointments. Sylvia stood up from her seat, placing an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders.

"Hey...what's up? You look upset." She asked softly, pushing some of Hannah's long, black hair from her face. Her girlfriend was pale, with pronounced eye bags, and big brown eyes that always looked kind of sad. Hannah looked down at her nails, and her voice went barely above a whisper.

"I'll tell you in the car. It's embarrassing." Hannah gripped her partner's hand, and Sylvia felt her stomach turn. Embarrassing how? Is she gonna be like a xoloitzcuintli dog and lose all her hair? Does she have rabies? No, she had her rabies shot last month...

It's not like Hannah hadn't been transformed in front of her. They'd been living together for three months. Her mind ran a mile a second as the two walked across the parking lot. Once they were in the car, Hannah gripped the steering wheel and looked at her feet for a moment with a giant sigh.

"Alright, so there's this thing that can happen with my transformations and stuff. If you know like how a lot of mammals go into heat? That kinda happens to me..." Hannah laid her head on the steering wheel, and Sylvia could hear the click of her eyebrow piercing as she made contact with the wheel.

Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. She was worried it was something huge. Hannah continued,

"It's likely gonna happen tonight. I'll transform, and even though I basically lose all my IQ points, I'll still know you're my partner. The thing with this is that I'll be pretty convinced we're gonna have pups. I might be a lot more clingy, try and make a 'den' for us out of like blankets and stuff, and...well, you can kinda pick up on other stuff." The poor butch was pink in the face and looked like she wanted to be sucked into the ground, "Look, I don't expect you to do anything different. If you wanna go stay with your parents or something for tonight, I get it. Just make sure the door is locked so I don't run out and get ran over by a car or something." She sounded almost sad, she had that quality to her voice but Sylvia could tell she was embarrassed.

Sylvia smiled a little at Hannah, "That's it? I don't mind staying at all. Why didn't you tell me about this, though? We've been together for nearly four years." She tried her best not to upset Hannah, but she did feel a little hurt that she was never told. Hannah had seen her in much worse states, and she didn't even get a cool wolf form!

Hannah sighed, sitting back up and playing with her hoodie strings. "It hasn't happened since we moved in together, and usually I'd be at home and just make a little den in my closet. My mom said I'd get really antsy after we'd gotten together and tried looking for you. It's just really embarrassing."

Sylvia placed a little kiss on her cheek, tipping up Hannah's head so she'd look at her. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about babe, and I'm staying with you tonight." She gave her girlfriend a hug, letting Hannah start the car and drive them home. "Also, that bit about you looking for me is really fucking cute."

Long after they arrived home, the two were hanging out in their bedroom. Sylvia had Hannah laying on her lap but noticed her squirming. She looked up from her fanfiction and found Hannah pulling at the hoodie she was wearing.

"You okay darling?" She asked, running a hand over Hannah's hair, and she looked up at her with an uneasy expression.

"I-I need to get up. Is it getting dark out?" Hannah stood up, pulling off her hoodie. Sylvia looked at the scarred, pale, gangly butch in front of her.

Hannah's ribs easily poked from her skin, the lycanthropy burns off fat fast, and the constant shift in muscle mass didn't help. She had massive scars down her sides, Sylvia remembered the day Hannah got them. She had been trapped in her clothes mid transformation and ended up clawing off her shirt. Hannah's jagged top surgery scars were on display too, a transformation had burst the stitches, causing them to heal strangely. Her legs were covered in bruises, but those could barely be seen past her body hair.

"It is, fuck!" She saw the moon coming into view out of the window. She pulled off her shorts, afraid of her clothes being destroyed or trapped on her. The first patches of black fur coming in up her spine. Sylvia got up, placing a hand on Hannah's back.

"Baby, baby it's okay. I've got you." She said quietly, her lover's mouth and nose elongating and her teeth growing large and sharp. Hannah's muscles thickened as she keeled over onto the floor, Sylvia getting down to her level. There were groans that escaped her mouth like a wounded animal as her muscles tore and replaced themselves. Hannah's nails grew large, turning thick, black, and sharp. Her height increased to around seven feet, her now pointed ears would brush the ceiling if she stood at her full height, each new inch accompanied by pops from her joints as nearly two feet were added. "That's it, good girl, you're doing so good." Sylvia kept cuddling her love, Hannah groaning and howling as her legs stretched out, knees twisting and popping as her hands and feet grew paw pads as they morphed into paws.

"H-hurts..." She groaned, hiding her face in her girlfriend's shoulder. A tail inched itself out of her back, covering itself in black fur. Her back hunched and cracked, the rest of her body covered in thick fur. It was done, and Hannah looked like she was on the verge of fainting. She looked up at her girlfriend with big brown eyes, her tongue poking from her mouth.

"There we go, it's all done. You did so good Hannah." Sylvia cooed at the wolfified Hannah. The wolf butch started pressing her snout to Sylvia's lips, as if trying to kiss her. "Aww, you want kisses pup?"

"K-kiss..kiss!" Hannah's voice was scratchy and groaning, and her words were unnatural sounding. Sylvia kissed her deeply, Hannah's tail wagged like crazy, her nails scraping down Sylvia's back and tearing her shirt.

"Ahh, careful with those claws baby~" She cooed, gently pushing the werewolf back a little. Hannah looked at her with big puppy eyes, clinging onto Sylvia and licking at her torn shirt and the exposed skin. She then rubbed her big ol head on the shaved parts of Sylvia's head. Sylvia chuckled a little, petting her head and standing up out of her girlfriend's grasp, "Now, I'm gonna grab a new shirt from the laundry room okay, can you be good for me?" She explained in a soft voice, scratching behind Hannah's ears. Hannah nodded, climbing up on the bed and stretching out. "Oooh biig stretch!" Sylvia praised as she stepped out of the room.

Sylvia sorted through some clean laundry, grabbing and putting on a new thick shirt, then pulling on a leather jacket. "That should stay in one piece!" She thought out loud, though she may be thinking of leather armor from minecraft. Upon returning to the bedroom, one thing was wrong, she couldn't see Hannah. "Shit! Hannah?!" She called out, the blanket was off the bed, along with a few stuffed animals and a pillow. She turned to the closet, and there was a big ol wolf head poking out.

"Made...made nest!" Hannah grabbed Sylvia's sleeve with her teeth, pulling her in the closet, "Keep Syl-Sylvia safe!" Sylvia went inside, sitting between her girlfriend's legs. Hannah sat with her back against the wall, her tail thumping against it.

"Thank you sweetie, you're such a good girl." Sylvia gave Hannah a little kiss on her neck, which caused her to grab Sylvia tightly. "Oh my, someone got a bit excited from that~ Do you need me baby?" She asked teasingly, Hannah grabbed Sylvia's arm and put it between her thighs. "Someone's forward~ Poor baby, can't take care of yourself huh? Big sharp claws~" She cooed, petting her lover's head. Hannah hid her face with one of her big handpaws.

Hannah whined, trying to rub herself on Sylvia's hand. "Need Sylvia.." Sylvia's heart nearly melted at that, and how could she say no to that sweet little face? She slowly starting running her fingers up Hannah's warm slit. Hannah's maw opened, revealing two rows of impossibly sharp teeth and a long, dripping tongue. A small yip and whines coming out of her as she was rubbed. "Rrrgh~ Need. Need~"

"Shhh, it's okay. Just let me take care of you darling." Sylvia whispered, her fingers tracing circles around Hannah's clit, feeling her shake and twitch in her arms. "Good girl, such a good girl for me~" She slowly moved her middle finger down, pushing it inside. Hannah gripped her tighter, luckily she wasn't shredded due to the jacket and big shirt. "Oh dear, you really need me bad huh?"

Hannah's tail was wagging up a storm, and she shoved her snout into Sylvia's neck, her nose cold and wet against her skin. "Love...you, love Sylvia!~" She started licking her neck, her sharp teeth rubbing against Sylvia's skin.

Sylvia slowly curled her finger inside, focusing on her girlfriend's special spot. Hannah let out a loud whine when she found the right spot. Using her free hand, Sylvia scratched behind her ears. "Oh, you're such a sweet puppy, taking me so well~ You're so cute~" She couldn't help but praise her.

Hannah whined louder, as though she was trying to speak, but her transformed state and Sylvia's fingers inside her made it hard to say words.

"It's okay baby, no more thoughts~ You're just a cute, dumb puppy♡" Sylvia slowly slipped in a second finger, laying kisses on her girlfriend's snout. "Poor baby, you just want me in you forever, huh? Just full of my fingers like the dumb puppy you are?" She teased, scratching just the right spot behind Hannah's ears to cause her jaw to drop open and any thoughts to drain from her head.

"Haah~" Hannah could only make noises at this point. Her brain turned to mush as she got closer and closer to orgasm. She kept wagging her tail, tongue hanging from her mouth as she was talked at, barely processing a thing said to her.

"You close baby? You gonna make a mess of yourself?" Sylvia teased her. The big, strong werewolf a whining mess in her arms. "You gonna cum for me darling?"

Hannah tensed up, her tail going stiff and straight as she came all over Sylvia's hand, howling and moaning as her claws nearly pierced her girlfriend's jacket. She started drooling a little, letting out a low growl. "Haah~ Feel good~" She groaned, her tail wagging weakly.

Sylvia laid a little kiss on Hannah's nose, then spread her fingers to show how wet they are. "How about you clean up your mess sweetie?" She cooed, Hannah leaning forward and licking Sylvia's fingers clean. "Good puppy, thank you baby." She cooed, scratching under Hannah's chin.

Hannah pulled Sylvia in, holding her to her chest. Sylvia snuggled into her fur, sighing contently. "You're so soft honey." She could hear Hannah's heartbeat, she nearly fell asleep it was so relaxing.

Hannah hugged Sylvia tightly, her tail beating off the floor. "Happy..." she cooed, licking her girlfriend's neck and head.

"I love you baby~" Sylvia said, and Hannah's tail could bore a hole in the wall with the speed it was hitting.

I'm copying this and later another story from my wattpad, if you got monster requests let me know.