#i'm gonna sound like one of Those people but i SWEAR TO GOD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shellshocklove · 8 days

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

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The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It��s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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bi-writes · 3 months

Text

mercenary!ghost is dead inside. he wonders what it leaves behind on his pretty little bunny.

notes about reader: as always, reader is curvy and ghost knows exactly what he wants to do with all that ass

more mercenary!ghost (part 2/?)

word count: 5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, pet names (luv, pet, bunny + rabbit, puppy), dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, ghost is thicc, mentions of violence and gore + murder and extortion, mw3 spoilers, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, tw smoking, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader described as much smaller, manhandled easily), suggestive touching and oral (fem!receiving), cumplay, mentions of dubcon but relationship/dynamics are consensual, simon "i eat pussy like a god" riley

his phone is ringing. it surprises him, the sound of it. it's not familiar, to hear it ring, to see a name on the screen of it and recognize it.

there was no one left to call. not until now.

he adjusts his hold on his rifle, slipping an earbud into his ear.

"'ello?"

"almost back yet?" it's you. rattling your cage.

"'m busy."

"i know--" he clicks his tongue when you say this, annoyed. "but you're not back yet."

"i'll be back when i'm back."

"yeah, but when is that?"

brat.

"'s this how it's gonna be? botherin' me when 'm out?"

"uh huh. so when are you gonna be back?"

"when 'm back."

you huff at that, and ghost snarls a bit under the mask, adjusting the scope and peering through it. there is movement, and he focuses. then your soft voice sounds again, "are you with someone else?"

there's a grunt, and then a firm, "no." and it is the truth, and you know it is, because he doesn't care enough to lie to you. you sigh on the other end, staring up at the ceiling with a wobbly bottom lip.

"we done 'ere?" he asks after a long pause. you sniffle, closing your eyes.

"take me with you next time."

he hangs up before he answers. needy little puppy he has, he knows this. he isn't unfamiliar with this kind of dynamic. it wasn't unlike the job he used to have--a lieutenant, a man in charge, in command of other needy puppies that needed to be put in their place. he wonders often if johnny would have liked you, but you are enough trouble as it is on your own.

a pet dies and another is bought; whatever ghost is, he outlives them.

he attracts them, he thinks. the ones who ache to belong. from the first moment he met you, he knows that is why he felt his blood run a little warmer at the sight of you--it is something in your eyes, something he recognizes, something that he knows tastes so fucking good. there is predator, and there is prey, and then there is the in-between. the purgatory of those who have no idea who they are. they must be shown. they have to be taught, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they are mangled and chewed through.

he wonders for a moment if maybe his mother was one of them. then he remembers that it doesn't matter what she was, because his father had black running through his veins. the same black that simon thinks he sees in the mirror--and sometimes it bleeds onto his face, he swears it's there, hiding underneath the eye-black he paints on himself.

when he was younger, he used to hide from his reflection because of it. the rot of the other half that he was made of, it terrified him. he feared being consumed by it. he was afraid of letting it show, he was afraid of scaring other people.

but when he crawled himself out of his early grave and buried the good half of himself, he didn't flinch in the mirror any longer. he let himself linger there, and when he swiped the black against his pale skin for the first time, he remembers thinking that maybe it had always been there. that he doesn't recognize himself without it because this is what i am, something made of ash, something that shouldn't be here, the remnants of something that touched a flame too hot and swallowed something foul. rancid.

and maybe that is what he's been doing since then--maybe that is what the hollow place is that he feels inside, maybe it's the half that he buried that he wishes so fucking badly to hold onto because it's the only thing that distracted him from feeling like the thing that he truly is. and maybe that is why he died again when johnny did; it was too late to realize that the hollowness is back, and it is deeper, and it hurts now, fuck, take it back, take it away--

and maybe that is why he hates you in some way. because the space is gone. it is filled again; and you fit so perfectly there, and it will happen again, and he has no idea how many more times he can lose the redeemable half of him until there is nothing left to redeem.

but black still runs in his veins, and he is selfish, and he will hold onto it until it's gone. he doesn't care. he is a thing, he is not real, and it doesn't matter to him if he will die again when you do, because while he has you, he will drink what you give him. salvation, redemption, painting his blood red, whatever the fuck it is that you are meant to give him, he will take it, and he will devour it, and he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

he wants it. it's selfish, it's cruel, but he wants it. everything he touches fades away; if he was something real, he would cut you off. but he isn't, and he doesn't care, and he's curious to know what the stain of himself will look like on you.

beautiful you. such a pretty girl. soft like a bunny, glittering eyes--if he was a poet, he might say they are filled with starlight. but ghost is a predator; the shine of you only makes his mouth water.

you were his the moment he saw you for the very first time. he was not inclined to ask your permission, but it wouldn't have mattered--he knew as soon as your eyes met, really met, that he had you. hook, line, and sinker--there it is, there she is, what she really is inside. there is a light there inside of you, he could see it.

he is going to snuff it out. he doesn't know why, but he will, because he wants to. he has an urge to kill something, and he thinks whatever it is that swims in you will do just fine. he knows, somehow, that you will look beautiful covered in it--in the tears when he breaks, when he tears, when he destroys, you will look beautiful, and he won't stop until he takes all of it. he knows, too, he doesn't know how he knows but he knows, that you will let him.

he crossed another name off his list today. he watched them on a lonely rooftop all morning, and it rained. he watched them move back and forth, between doorways, answering phone calls. he doesn't ask questions, so he wonders occasionally what it is they did to warrant a visit from him.

they could've stolen. maybe they betrayed; that is a popular motivation. lovers' quarrels--he knows what it is to die for love, but dying for love at the wrong end of his rifle isn't in marriage vows. maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; maybe they saw what they shouldn't have, and it was enough for a visit from their guardian angel.

sometimes he thinks that what he does is at their mercy; because if he didn't do it, if he didn't make it so quick, so easy, they would suffer. at least this way, by his hand, they would never know. he brings comfort. ease.

it is the same with you, it has to be. he closes his fist and bangs on the outside of your door. the wood rattles under the force, and when you open the door, the look that you give him only solidifies his assumption. if it wasn't him keeping you, then it would be someone else. someone else would look into those eyes, and they would take from you, but they wouldn't be like him. he takes, and he will take, but you won't know that you are empty until it's too late.

that is merciful, isn't it? this kind of love is forgiving, right? the kind that shields, the white lies that protect, that blindfold that hides--this is humane. he is a thing, a predator, yes, but he isn't like the others.

right?

you step aside, and he has to maneuver his shoulders to make it past the narrow doorway. as you close the door, your eyes linger. he wears a dark rain jacket over a long sleeve, dark cargo pants tucked into heavy boots. he wears a holster on one meaty thigh, but it only holds a small pack there. his balaclava is plain, hiding all but his dark eyes, and the hood of his jacket casts a long shadow over him. the gloves he wears are of a utility variety--he worked today. if you ask him, he will say yes, but he will not tell you anything else.

sometimes, you aren't sure if he just doesn't care or if he is trying to protect you from some ugly truth. but then you remember that there are no ugly truths with ghost; the truth is as it is, nothing more and nothing less, and if he hides it from you, it is because you simply don't need to know.

you lock the door behind you, leaning against it. he moves through your apartment with ease. he has been here before, but it feels as if he has always been here. he knows how to rattle the balcony door to get the lock to free, and you don't remember showing him how to unlatch it. you busy yourself with putting the kettle to boil as you see him light a match, a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

it's a nasty vice. it blackens the lungs, shrinks the organ, addicts the user. but it tastes good. and it feels good. and it isn't what will kill him, because this isn't real.

you come outside, a mug of tea in your hand, and you set it down beside him. he flicks ash off the cigarette, spreading his legs wide as he sits there, watching the street below. it's quiet because it's raining, and while the balcony is covered, it wets the toes of his boots.

he looks so good. he spreads himself out in the chair, taking up so much space, and his hand that doesn't hold the cigarette is spread out along his thigh, running absentmindedly down the material of his pants. it's hard to describe the breadth of him--ghost is just big. his hands, the height of him, the space that you can tuck yourself into his chest. he could curl you around his arm, wrap you up with both of them, trap you there. you don't hate the thought of that, the idea of him keeping you there like that. you think about the width of his hand, how it might look with the black of his glove spread out across your throat, holding you there, keeping you there.

you think about what it would be like to be under his mercy. his control. to feel the press of those fingers against the hollow of your throat, knowing he could crush your windpipe with just one perfectly placed squeeze. he would know where to touch. he would know where to tug just right to cut the air off.

it's too bad you didn't know you already belonged to him.

"can i have some?"

you nod to the cigarette burning in his hand. his eyes flicker up to look at you for a moment before he adjusts in the chair. he shrugs finally.

"'f you want."

you put a hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. you wear nothing except for a loose shirt, one that covers you to your thighs, but when you sit, it rides up. he takes the weight of you easily, not looking strained in the slightest, one arm supporting the thickness of your thighs with a firm grasp.

you lean forward a little, into him, and he brings the cigarette to your lips. you wrap your lips around it, taking a breath. you want to revel in that fact that you're putting your lips around something his own have touched, and then you start to cough.

the air burns. you turn your head to the side and wheeze; you hear a condescending chuckle, and you go warm with embarrassment. but his hand rubs small circles into your back, coaxing the smoke out of your lungs. you take in a few strong breaths to clear the smoke, and then you look away from him.

"not a smoker, eh?"

"that was...my first time."

when your head turns back to face him shyly, he tilts his head to the side. you cannot see any of his expression, but you imagine he's curious. the way his eyes look you up and down tell you that much.

"wot, you saw me do it, 'n ya think y'can take it?"

you don't respond, just keep your eyes on his. your fingers move, spreading across the solidity of his chest, and you rest them there. you lean in a little more, your face only a few mere inches from his own, and it gives you an opportunity to examine him so close.

his mask is weathered, the skull mouth painted along the mouth a little faded and messy with wear. he smells like cigarettes and earth, wet soil and ash and something warm. the eye-black that is smeared across his eyes fades out at the edges, and the paleness of his skin peeks out a little. you know the black covers the tiredness under his eyes, the lines that must be set in his face from how much he frowns. he has blonde lashes and dark eyes, and what intrigues you the most is that you can see the jagged edge of a healed scar peeking out from under the fabric that hides him.

he frowns, and you see the furrowing of the skin underneath. you meet his eyes again, and it feels surreal to see him in this much detail. you don't think this is a common occurrence; you have a feeling that anyone that has ever gotten this close to him did not live to talk about it the next day.

he has never told you, but you know death follows him. you have never seen what war has done to him, you can't see the rough skin and the patches where skin has been shredded or torn off, but you know, sitting so close to him, that he leaves bodies behind him and terrifies the ones that approach.

you wonder if you should be afraid, but then you remember that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. he does not want to kill you.

he wants to eat you.

you have asked him once what he does for work. he said he used to work for the military, but he didn't say anymore. when you asked what he did now, he said he was an independent contractor.

a contractor for what, you did not get the answer to. just that he was his own boss now, and no one told him what to do anymore.

"what did you do today?" you ask him finally, reaching up timidly and slipping a thumb down the line of his strong jaw.

"work."

"and how was it?"

he does not answer, and your eyes flicker back up to his, studying his reaction. he doesn't give one, just eyes the line of your throat as you swallow hard.

"a good pay day then?" you ask, and he hums at that. you smile a little, reaching up with both hands and cupping his masked cheeks gently. "must be good at what you do."

his face flickers a bit at that. he sniffs, looking to the side before back at you, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. one of his big hands comes up and slips up the shirt you wear, gripping your ass firm.

"good at other things, too," is all he says, and you smooth one of your thumbs down the row of painted teeth along the mouth of the mask. his breath comes out warm under your thumb.

"like killing people?"

his hand stiffens against you, and he glares up at you. a huff of a breath comes out, and you tense a little. he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, reaching up with that hand and gripping you around the jaw. your face fits nicely in his hand, and you might enjoy it if it wasn't so aggressive, the way he touched you. he shakes you a little, bringing you close enough that you can feel the wetness of his snarl against your lips.

"that wot y'think i am? some kind o'murderer?" he spits. "think 'm some kind o'fuckin' killer?"

a wave of tears prick the sides of your eyes, and you grip his wrist tight, trying to keep the pressure off of you.

"i know what you do," you whisper. "i know what you do, it's pretty obvious."

"yeah? 'n ya think it's a good idea to fuckin' talk t'me this way? ask me questions you don't want the answers to?"

you narrow your eyes, and you stare back at him, matching the intensity of his own. this makes him laugh; there is no humor in his laugh, but he laughs, and he rattles your whole head as he brings you close enough that your lips brush against the fabric of his mask.

"oh...you want me to tell ya...want me to spill all my bloody secrets..." he growls. you let out a whine when he brings you even closer, smashing your lips against the front of his mask. you choke out a whimper, and you swear you feel his tongue trying to find yours through the barrier. "think y'can handle the lot like me, bunny, and you can't. blood on m'ledger would fuckin' drown you."

and it is the truth, he knows it is, and he wouldn't lie to you because he just doesn't fucking care enough to think up a lie. he didn't serve so many years, he didn't give so much time to what he thought was righteous to come home and paint war as a pretty picture to civilians like you. war is blood, war is loss, war is what takes and takes and takes from a man, until they are things. until they come home and realize they have no idea what they were fighting for when they seem the same dirty streets they left behind.

when their brothers still get killed. when their families still come apart. when their lovers betray them, when they break their hearts--when they realize they are glorified weapons for the politicians that don't care about them, that send them away to die, that refuse to support them when they come home without the goodness that they left with.

he gave his entire life up for this. they took his family, they took the only half of him that mattered, and what was it for? nothing waits for him at home. there is no one in his bed, there is no one to call, there was no money in the bank.

there is only the memories that manifest into nightmares, and the blue sky that reminds him of blue eyes. the blue eyes that he could not save, the blue eyes that haunt him, that ask him, desperately--let the bonnie lass go, LT. you cannae save'er.

but he is a lieutenant, and he was a sergeant, and he didn't take fucking orders from anyone anymore anyways.

you are his, and you look so pretty in that cage. pretty enough to eat. pretty enough to take away. pretty enough to poison, because he thinks maybe this is the only way to make himself feel better.

he wants to see your blood run just as black as his own. misery loves company, they say, and it would please him, the selfish thing that he is, to see you just as ugly inside as he is.

"but you want it," he says, and your eyes flick back to meet his. you don't smile, but your gaze doesn't falter. you just stare back at him, and he laughs again, because he sees something he recognizes there. something inhuman, something a little feral. it is inside you.

and he wants it out.

he stands, leaning over you. you're forced to walk backwards, and he doesn't stop until you're back inside. he closes the balcony door behind him, putting a hand on your chest before forcing you backwards with a firm push. the back of your knees hit the couch, and you squeak as you fall back against it.

you almost think he's going to pounce on you. rip your panties to fabric shreds, spread you wide, and fuck you into the cushions. you think he's going to take from you, because that is what predators do, but you're almost taken back by the sight of him lowering to his knees.

he's kneeling. this behemoth of a thing kneels in front of you, and you yelp with a start when he grips you by the back of your knees and yanks you forward, manhandling you until he has your legs tossed over his shoulders. he grunts as he pushes the shirt up to expose your cotton panties, a soft red pair that you know he will ruin when he's done with you.

your back arches as he buries the front of his mask against your cunt, taking a deep breath through the mask. it's filthy, the way he takes in the scent of you, and if you were sane, you would push him away, the nasty thing he is. but you don't--the gesture floods your insides with need, and you squirm in his grip.

"stay still, little rabbit," he says, but it's a demand. he moves one hand further up your thighs, and you whimper softly when his thumb squishes the slit of you through your panties. his eyes brighten when he notices the fabric darkening as soon as he does this, a growing wet spot dampening your underwear. "look at 'er...drippin'...you hungry, luv?"

"uh...ngghhh..."

"oh, fer fuck's sake, haven't even got m'mouth on ya, and y'can't speak already?"

he laughs, because he is mean, because he is a thing that just wants and takes, and what he wants is between your thighs, and you are easy. you want to be more of a challenge; you want to make him work for it, but his eyes flicker up to meet your own, and there is nothing you can do. there is something said whenever your eyes are on each other--you have no idea what it is, but it tames him, and it keeps you.

"he woulda loved you," he says suddenly. you frown, opening your mouth to say something, to ask who he is, but his index finger pulls your panties aside, and he buries his masked face into the wet seam of your pretty pussy.

you cry out at the feeling, your thighs closing around his head instinctively. your back bows even further, a taut, imaginary string being pulled inside of you, and ghost laughs again, because you're so warm and cute and needy. he pushes his face further into you, nuzzling his nose into the place where he knows your clit is, and he draws the most delicious moans out of you. he smiles under the mask when one of your shaking hands grips the back of his head, pushing him deeper, his mask soaking with the slick of you.

he continues the torture for a time unknown. your brain isn't working; you have no concept of time. all you can think about is the way your legs shake and the grip your hands have on the back of his head as you grind your hips up into him. your eyes flutter open and closed, and you push your shirt up a little so he can see your nipples harden with how much everything aches for him.

it feels so good. he grunts, and then a low groan leaves him when you maneuver his head, shoving his nose up against your clit again and slanting your hips up and into him. you're getting off on this--fucking the front of his mask to feel something, to feel this thing you have been chasing for your entire life.

you saw it in him the first time you met him. the knowing when your eyes met for the first time--whatever it is that you have been chasing for your entire life, it is in him, and you need it.

the thing that poets chase. the rush that a high brings. the missing half of you, the warmth of a love you've never had, the shape of something in your cunt that you know he can fill.

you think you might faint when you feel his tongue finally. you can't see his face; he hides it with a wet mask, but his tongue is inside of you now, and you can't help the crying moans that leave you as he laps at your folds like a thirsty dog. maybe he is thirsty--you can hear the lewd, deep swallowing sounds he makes as he tightens his grip on your thighs and bobs his head in time with your stuttering, pleasure-chasing hips.

he drinks. he drinks you insane. his tongue suckles at your clit, then lets it go with a filthy pop to swirl inside your tightening cunt and eat the pretty bunny he has been thinking about far too much. when he works, before he sleeps, in the shower, in the mirror as he covers the scars of him that he never wants to share anymore. the taste of you is enough to distract him--here, between your thighs, your sweetness in his mouth and your moans filling his ears, he doesn't think about anything else. it's impossible. he has been chasing the void for a long time, and all he had to do was eat a pretty girl to get to it?

he knows it now, has decided it already. your cunt is redemption, and he will lose himself in it to make it reality.

"ghost! please!"

your cries shatter his resolve. he folds you in half as he leans over you now, his hands sliding up your soft stomach before he grips the weight of your breasts in his rough hands and squeezes firmly. you whine, cry, moan, beg--you beg for more, for him to please, please, please--! it feels so good, i want it! i want you, i want it all, i want--i want--what does she want?

me? the thing? what isn't real? because ghost knows that if he gives in, it is over. he signs something away, and he has done this before, and suddenly he is afraid.

when he did this before, he was left something else. he is afraid of what will happen the next time. what will happen to him, what might become of him, because what he is now terrifies his reflection, and he has no idea what it'll do.

"please! please! please!"

but you're crying, and you taste so good. and as he laves into the prettiest pussy he's ever had, the sweetest, he remembers why he is here. he isn't here because he loves you. he isn't here because he cares, he isn't here because it is good.

he is here because whatever he is needs a new host, and you are what it wants. soft, pretty, naïve--you have let it inside, and now he will eat and chew and bite until he sucks something out of you.

maybe the good. maybe blood. but it doesn't matter.

he slides his hands back down, using both thumbs to spread your folds apart, and he pulls back to look at you. you're a sloppy mess, your little hole puckering and pulsing, your clit a throbbing bud that begs him to stop teasing. he looks up at where you're a whimpering, crying thing, tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, and he snarls before he leans down and spits right on your clit, watching it drip into your cunt and swirl between what seeps from you.

"say it."

"nnh...huh?"

"say who you belong to."

when you take a moment to answer, he leans down and licks a fat stripe over your clit, making you sob. you reach down, cupping the underside of his jaw. it's bare, and your soft hands glide over the scarred skin there. it is the first time he doesn't flinch.

"you--you!"

"say it."

"b-belong to you..."

the moonlight is blue when he makes you come. his lips wrap around your clit and suckle soft, and when he knows you're coming, he opens his mouth, hinging a strong jaw so he can swallow what drips from you and take in mouthfuls of it. there is a glare over you, a blue light that shines over your sweaty, shivering body, and ghost nearly bites.

as if the blue eyes he can't keep out of his head, the blue eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, are mocking him for taking the thing he knows he shouldn't have. he's telling him to leave you. that there's still time to let you go. that what he has in his hands, what he has at his mercy, is too soft and too pretty and too gentle to be touched by what he will bring to her doorstep.

you sit up on your elbows, half-lidded, face wet with your tears. ghost almost believes the blue that washes over you, but then his eyes meet yours, and it is over. you're smiling.

this is acceptance. because you know what he is. you know what he does. the gun on him is real. the black in his eyes isn't a trick of the light. the poison spreading in his veins isn't just a sickness, it is a cancer, and this will kill him, and it is contagious.

you cup his face, bringing him up, letting him crowd the space between your legs as he leans over you.

he would care. he wants to care. and when he kisses you, sealing your fate, he remembers, suddenly. the blue moonlight is gone.

and this isn't real.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!simon

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vaspider · 6 months

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My question about the AIDS crisis, I'm mostly asking you because like I said, I don't think I was googling the right things, so even if you could just suggest some things to google that would be more likely to get me answers, that would be really helpful.

I guess it's mostly how did AIDS (and to some extent, any STD) become so widespread? I know that it spread through sexual contact and shared blood, but can you really "six degrees of separation" (god, that sounds so flippant, but i genuinely can't think how else to describe it) a chain of sexual partners and shared needles through any two people with HIV in the entire world? Maybe it's just because I'm a bit of a hermit, but while I can understand how it was so devastating once it was already widespread, I guess I'm having trouble understanding how it got such a foothold in the first place. If the first person with HIV had happened to not have a lot of sex would the AIDS crisis never have happened?

I swear I have absolutely no judgement for people that like to have a lot of sex, maybe I just have an underestimate of the amount of sex the average person has because frankly I don't have any? So I hope this doesn't sound disrespectful or anything, it's just kind of hard for me to believe those "six degrees of separation" kind of things in general when it's not like, famous people, so the realization that theoretically any two people with the same STD, on different parts of the globe, would have this string of sexual partners connecting them almost feels like there has to be something I'm missing... But when I'm googling things like "how did HIV become so widespread" and "how do STDs spread" I'm just getting things about how you should use protection and histories of *where* HIV spread rather than answering this more specific question (probably didn't help I was trying to do this research at 1am)

I mean this as kindly as possible:

What is your proposed alternate theory as to the spread of a disease which is transmitted through contact with blood, semen (and pre-seminal fluid), rectal and vaginal fluids, and breast milk? The disease does not spread through saliva or through touch which does not involve those fluids.

There are relatively rare cases of HIV spread through accidental needle sticks - according to WebMD, there are approximately 385k accidental needle sticks among health care workers per year in the US. WHO says that .7% of the global population has HIV, so for some back-of-the-napkin math, at most, you'll have about 2,700 of those needle sticks involving someone with HIV. Since (again, according to that WebMD article on accidental needle sticks), in cases of an accidental needle stick where the patient has HIV, the health care worker only has about a 1 in 300 chance of catching it (as opposed to 1 in 3 for an unvaccinated person catching hepatitis B via accidental needle stick from an infected patient). So - nationwide - you have approximately 9 people per year catching HIV from a needle stick.

And, to be clear, that fucking sucks. However, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, in 2022 there were approximately 14.7 million health care workers in the US. Not all of these people have equal risk for accidental needle sticks, but there's only so much research I'm gonna do for rough math to answer an ask on Tumblr.

The average US health care worker has approximately - again, based on my back-of-the-napkin math - 0.00000544% chance of contracting HIV from an accidental needle stick. It's astronomically more likely that a random health care worker will die from tripping over an extension cord or breathing in a caustic chemical than that they will catch HIV.

The chances of getting HIV via blood transfusion before we started routinely testing for it were all but assured if you got blood from someone with HIV. Testing now is so stringent that you have about a one in two million chance of getting HIV from a transfusion. The last recorded case I could find was in 2010, and before that, it was 2002, and the 2010 case happened in part because the donor lied about his risk profile and often participated in anonymous and unprotected sex with partners of multiple genders. He really shouldn't have been accepted as a donor at all. Approximately 4.5 million Americans receive blood transfusions per year, so, like, nowadays, it is excessively unlikely, but even in the 80s, it was an edge case means of infection, not a main source of pandemic spread.

A breastfeeding parent with a detectable viral load has about a 15% chance of transmitting HIV through breast milk. Likewise, HIV can be - and was - transmitted to babies during birth because of contact with vaginal fluid or blood, but, again, these relative edge cases are not the things pandemics are made of.

I want to stress that I am not in any way minimizing the absolute tragedy of the AIDS crisis, and I am not dismissing the fact that these methods of transmission are possible and did cause significant disruption to blood banks, stress for pregnant people with HIV, and so on. They just simply are not major methods of transmission, and never were.

With all of that said... what is your proposed alternate method of transmission, with these facts in hand? What do you think happened? Genuinely, this question is so baffling to me.

I think it's important to understand that before the emergence of HIV, most of the STIs we had were at that point either considered an annoyance (warts, HPV) or were extremely easy to treat and cure (syphilis, once a death sentence, became basically a non-issue for most people in the US as long as they were getting tested relatively frequently, and most other common STIs even today can be cured with a single course or even a single dose of antibiotics).

With that in mind, a lot of people, including a lot of queer people, were having a lot of unprotected sex. For people who could become pregnant, the advent of the pill and access to legal abortion meant that they didn't have to become or stay pregnant if they didn't want to, and for cis gay men, the prevalence of antibiotics meant that the vast majority of STIs were a brief inconvenience at worst.

So allo people did one of the things that allo people (and some ace people!) love to do:

They fucked. A lot. They fucked without fear of much consequence in terms of infection, and because it was much riskier to bring someone home where you could be seen, a lot of gay men cruised, fucking in parks or in literal back alleys or the bathrooms of clubs. They worried about getting arrested or getting caught and having their names in the newspaper much more than they worried about STIs. Sex workers, including trans sex workers, fucked in cars or hotels or... wherever the money was, because survival sec work is ... survival.

So... yeah. What is your proposed alternate theory, here? I am truly baffled at what you think otherwise happened, given a disease with a very narrow route of infection.

#hiv #aids

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dqrkoholic · 1 year

Text

"If you win, you can do whatever you want to me." - Park Sunghoon

WARNING: smut MDNI !!! Jealous biker bf!Sunghoon x fem!reader, cursing, oral (giving and receiving), face-fucking, fingering, scratching, making out. Tell me if there's more!

SUMMARY: Having a racer boyfriend wasn't always sunshine and butterflies, especially when he had enemies. And when one night, attending the nth race of the week, no one expected Sunghoon's enemy to arrive and challenge him to a betting race, you being one of the bet. And when Sunghoon agreed to it all, you couldn't believe him, but it didn't stop you from giving him the best motivation for the race - him doing whatever he wants to you for the night if he does win.

A/N: HELLAUR! i know i haven't posted at all in a very long time, and I'm very sorry, but I'll try and post every time I'm free. With all that said, remember English isn't my first language, and I'm sorry if there are any mistakes or typos! Hope you enjoy <3

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

masterlist!

The sound of loud roaring of motors filled your ears, and the whole street where bikers were all scattered around while more were arriving.

It was some minutes after midnight, and you and your racer boyfriend were attending another race for the 3rd time this week. Your boyfriend was a racer, and he was the well-known Park Sunghoon. Everybody knew his name. It was no secret that everybody was afraid of him and that nobody could've beat him at his own game, and you were lucky enough to date him.

You didn't know how it happened since the two of you were quite the opposite, and a lot of girls were up his ass that matched his style, yet he still chose you. You, because you weren't like them and you were something else, as he says.

You were dragged by Mia to one of these races because she wanted to support her boyfriend Heeseung, who was surprisingly in Sunghoon's team. Her bringing you along resulted in you awkwardly bumping into Sunghoon, who was mesmerized by you the moment his eyes landed on your face and body. You wearing he tightest skirt that day and the way your shy voice let out the most softest 'sorry' really made him feel blood rushing down his dick, making it painfully hard and making it hard for him to forget you.

And now here you were, at his, actually fun bike races. His hand around your bare waist as he leads you through the crowd of people before you both end up in the area where the bikers are with their teams, all of them greeting Sunghoon as he passes by them.

You both approach his team. Your team also, as you are now one of them. Never being left out at any hangouts and always by Sunghoon's side. You got along with every single one of them, which made it even better for you to fit in and make Sunghoon very happy.

"Hey Park!" Jay smiled as he dabbed up Sunghoon. Sunghoon returning the smile as they side hugged. "Hey, pretty girl!" Jay smiled at you as you playfully rolled your eyes. Hoon didn't get mad on the other hand since it's a small joke in the group. It was no secret that Sunghoon was jealous and possessive of you, a lot, but he did not mind this interaction whatsoever.

"Aye, Hoon, watch your girl! Mr. steal yo girl is on the loose." Jake said as he greeted both of you and Sunghoon. You all laughed, and Sunghoon got pulled by the guys on the side as Mia pulled you next to her. Being Heeseung's girlfriend, she was almost always here as you.

"Those punks, I swear to god!" She rolled her eyes at the group as you both laughed. "Is Hee racing today?" You asked her as she handed you an energy drink. "Mhm. He's right after Sunghoon. He's going first, did you know?" "Who? Hoon? No!" Your eyes widened at her words. "Yes... I thought he told you." She looked at you as you shook your head, looking over to where Sunghoon was standing and almost immediately catching his eyes staring into yours, smirking as he looked at you up and down, eating you up. You felt as if your legs were almost gonna give up on you, like all the time he's looked at you like that.

After a while of talking, the guys approached you and Mia as Heeseung pulled Mia aside, and Sunghoon caged his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him in the process. "Are you trying to kill me in that skirt, hm?" He asked, more like, whispered against your neck, his face nuzzled in it. Maybe wearing a pink checkered skirt and some high knee socks, topping it with an off shoulder white top and Sunghoon's black ass leather jacket wasn't a bad idea.

You giggled as your hands travel to his platinum long locks, softly pushing it back before placing at the nape of his neck. "No, but I'm only wearing it for you, so..." He moved his head from your neck and looked at you with dark, lust-filled eyes.

And before he can open his mouth, both your attention was was in the direction of where a loud motor noise was coming from.

Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! Just amazing!

It was Sunghoon's biggest rival and his stupid little group full of pussies. They just had to ruin Sunghoon's mood on fun races like it was a daily routine for them. You call it obsession. Who wouldn't be obsessed with your boyfriend?

Sunghoon groans, rolling his eyes and straightening his posture, his hands still around you, holding you close. "Don't pay attention to them!" His voice louder, making sure the group hears him and not cause a scene, minded their own business, but sadly that cut short as Nicholas approached with a shit grin on his face.

Sunghoon lets out a breath of anger and turns to look at him, standing in front of you and pushing you behind him. "Came to get your ass beaten again?" Sunghoon says cockily, mentioning the last time they raced against each other.

Nicholas lost and got the beating of his life from Sunghoon because he side eyed you before even starting the race.

Nicholas chuckles and gives Sunghoon a dirty look before looking over his shoulder and right at you. "Don't be so confident about tonight Park, I'll make sure you get what i got last time." He replies, which only fumes up Sunghoon more. "Your eyes, Nicholas, you want them gone?' Sunghoon asks as he steps closer to him. Nicholas' laugh doesn't make Sunghoon any less mad as it also makes all of the people around want to take turns beating his ass.

"How about this? You win, you get whatever you want from me, and you won't see me again." He says, and Sunghoon doesn't react, just listens to him and waits for him to continue. "Now if I win..." He trails off, and his eyes once again trail back to you. "I get her." And that's when everyone thought Sunghoon would knock him out, but he doesn't react, making you furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "And her too." K says behind Nicholas as he points to Mia, who is standing next to a furious Heeseung. "I'll end you fucker!" Heeseung yells from behind and pulls Mia closer.

"Deal."

"Hoon, what the fu -" Heeseung yells once 6 as Sunghoon raises his hand for him to shut up, he does. You couldn't believe your ears, lowly whispering a 'what'. What is he thinking?

Nicholas smirks and moves back to his bike, leaving you furious. The group and you turn to face Sunghoon, who hasn't moved an inch from where he stood.

"SUNGHOON WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" You turn him around as you start hitting his hard chest before he grabs both of your wrists and stops your movements. "I won't give you away easily, love. Do you think I'll let you in his dirty hands? And my best friend's girlfriend too?" You shake my head, looking into his dark orbs. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your head, and a sudden feeling of boldness washed over you.

"Well then, if you win, you can do whatever you want to me tonight." The sudden boldness vanished as the words leave your mouth. Sunghoon grabs your hips, slamming them against his, grabbing a fist full of your ass, whispering a low "Fuck." And you only smile up at him. "Go." You say and he kisses you deeply before going over to his bike. Heeseung and Mia appear besides you and all of you watch the scene in front unfold.

After a small stare down between Nicholas and Sunghoon, both of them put their helmets on as they start their engines, and the loud place become louder with the sound of their engines roaring and roaring.

"I want her to give us the sign to start." Nicholas points to you, and you've had enough of his bullshit. Grabbing the flag from the girl's hands and stepping in the middle of both of them, you slowly raise your hand. You send a flying kiss to Sunghoon. And finally, you lower the flag. Both of them had sped off behind you before your hand lowered fully, cheers starting to go off. Quickly returning to where you stood before, your eyes were only on Sunghoon and his bike as he speeded off even more, a little far back from Nicholas. You curse under your breath, feeling tears build up in your eyes.

He won't let you go just like that, Y/n, it's okay. - You thought to yourself feeling Mia hugging you, your eyes still on the racers that were now with the same speed and next to each other. Your whole body was shaking as Sunghoon sped up even more than before. The roaring was probably heard through the whole city. You all would be lucky if police won't show up after this.

Cheers were getting louder and louder as they were halfway done with the race, Sunghoon leading, relaxing you and the whole group, knowing nothing could go wrong.

Or could it?

Before you know it, Nicholas played dirty as he hit Sunghoon's bike, and Sunghoon completely lost control. "SUNGHOON!" You scream, looking at your boyfriend struggling to stop his bike from falling and losing control, watching him swerving left and right. Tires were leaving black marks on the street behind him.

"GOD, NO, NO, NO! PLEASE, SUNGHOON!" "SHIT, SOMEBODY, STOP HIM THAT'S AGAINST THE RULES!" Heeseung yells as he rushes to the heads of these races to try and make them realize the situation.

Everything felt as if it was in slow motion. All watching Sunghoon finally lose control, and you closed your eyes to not see your boyfriend fall. Everything you've feared from was literally happening now, and you felt dizzy, ready to lose control over yourself and run to him.

Hearing Mia scream beside you, you knew he fell, but as you hear her starting to cheer right after, it made you open your eyes, seeing your boyfriend back on track and completely fine.

Your soul fell back into place as you started chanting his name. Sure, Nicholas was so close to winning, but you still had hope in your boyfriend. You always did. And before Nicholas could even get to the finish line, Sunghoon grabbed his pocket knife, throwing it perfectly at the back of Nicholas' tire, making him lose control now. And with a small hit of Sunghoon's bike, Nicholas fell as Sunghoon passed the finish line.

The whole crowd burst into cheers as you ran to him while he took his helmet off, jumping into his arms as he spun you around happily.

"I KNEW YOU'D WIN!" You kissed him as he held you tightly against himself, his hand under your plush thighs, squeezing them. "God, i love you so much." He says before setting you on the back of his bike, kissing your forehead before walking to the guys , quickly discussing something with them and returns with a smirk on his face.

You see Heeseung sit Mia at the back of his bike before him and the rest take Nicholas and K in the small forest, and you knew what was gonna happen next. Sunghoon fastly drove to his place, parking the bike, however, in his garage. He picks you up in his arms again, hands under your thighs and his lips on yours. His lips never left yours as he unlocked his door, and you both traveled around his house. You being pushed against every wall he could've pushed you against and soon after, finally, you reached his huge room, and he sets you down on the bed gently.

"You're mine, only mine." He growls, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing you. You whine and try to bring him back into the kiss by pulling him down by his neck, but he didn't even budge. "Say it, love, come on." He whispers.

You gulp and let out a whine as you feel his finger trail up your leg down your thighs and finally on the wet material of your soaked panties. "Yours, sir, I'm all yours. No one else's, just yours." And with that, his lips capture yours in a more hungry kiss, his hands finally undressing you aggressively, only leaving your knee high socks on.

Moans leave your mouth and into his as he teases your bud before pinching it, earning a squeal from you. "That's it, let out those sounds, Just for me." His deep voice sent shivers down your spine as your body was squirming under his much bigger and buffer one. "Stop fucking moving before i tie you up, doll." He says with a soft but scary tone, making you even wetter than you already were.

His finger slowly moved from your clit through your slit gathering as much slick before the tips of his fingers started teasing your entrance, driving you absolutely crazy.

Want him even more now. You bucked your hips up and let out the most angelic whimpers and moans. "This pussy is mine. Only I can fuck it, understood?" His other hand travels up to your throat pressing around it, cutting the air ways, arousing you even more.

Letting out a gasp, escape past your lips as his two fingers entered you, moving at a fast pace, not even letting you adjust to it but didn't complain. Who were you to complain about the pleasure he was sending through your whole body? You couldn't even form any kind of words, too lost in the pleasure that was now building up an orgasm, feeling your stomach tighten. "Fucking hell you're dripping baby, shit." His eyes were where his fingers were being swallowed by your pussy. And the more he lowered himself against you, you could feel his bulge grow more and more.

You smirked and brought your knee to rub against it, pressing onto it, earning moans and groans from him. His eyes dart to your face and his hand tightening around your throat. "Oh, you're teasing, huh?" He asks cockily and takes his fingers out, leaving you a whiny mess under him.

"You wanna play? I'll play too." His deep voice could've made you cum right then and there. He sits you up on your knees as he gets off the bed and unbuckles his pants throwing them away before grabbing your hair. His other hand was busy stroking his length, bringing it to your lips after. "Wanna get out of a hard punishment, doll?" You nod your head as you know that there was no staisfaction whatsoever in his punishments.

You don't take your eyes off his length in front of you, and his hold on your hair tightened more, making you look up at him. "Then stay still for me, okay doll?" He asks, and you let out a whiny 'yes' before opening your mouth for him, inviting him in.

He hisses as his length felt the warmness of your mouth and before you could do anything, he started abusing your throat, fucking your face the way he wanted.

You, on the other hand, gaged and had tears dripping down your cheeks together with spit from the sides of your mouth, too.

Sunghoon didn't hold back with being vocal this time. He wanted you to know how much of a good girl you are for him, and so he was letting out the most heavenly sounds, feeling himself getting closer and closer to his high. "F-fuck, doll, you make me feel so good. You're doing so good, my good girl." He moans out before you feel your throat being filled with his warm load. After a few more thrusts from him. He pulls out, and you swallow his load, sticking out your tongue to him. "Atta girl, that's it." He strokes your cheek and wipes the dried tears on it as he leans down and kisses you, tasting nothing but spit and himself.

Not pulling away from your lips, he lays you down on the bed again, letting his hands pull your knees apart and he starts trailing his kisses lower and lower on your body before finally landing a kiss on your bud.

You moan out as you feel his tongue playing with your hole, letting your hand grab his hair hard. His tongue is doing wonders on you, eating you out like a starved animal. But before you could come, he pulled away with a smirk.

His lips and nose covered with you essence when you looked up at him, making your cheeks heat up at the sight. "Sir, i wanna come, please!" You whimper, and he only chuckles, finding it amusing, bringing you in yet another kiss. You kiss back as a small make-out session starts, his hands roaming your body, your hands now on his back, under his shirt. He shortly pulls away to pull his shirt over his head before throwing it somewhere on the floor and returning to the messy kiss. Your nails softly scratching his now bare back.

You feel the tip of his dick touching your now sensitive pussy, rubbing himself against it, as you whine into his mouth from the friction between the both of you, your hips snapping up to get more friction, which was not enough for you. "So fucking desperate, my desperate doll, you'll get what you want right now." He says and strokes himself before entering you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you out perfectly as both of you let out a moan at the feeling. "Damn baby you're so tight. Don't i fuck you enough, hm?" He laughs as he knows that he always finds a way to fuck not matter what. His laugh was cut short from a groan ripping through his throat as he entered you fully, his whole cock inside your gummy walls, you could practically feel every vein inside of you.

You moan at his words before he speeds up his thrusts, pounding into you. The bed creaks with every harsh thrust of his as you roll your eyes back and tears slowly fall down from how good he was doing you right now. Maybe you should make him more jealous, and this time, you didn't even try. You gotta thank Nicholas for this.

His thrust only sped up, and your moans and his groans increase as both your highs approach. Sunghoon knew you were close once he felt you tighten around him, driving him over the edge and he brought his hands to your belly before pressing down onto it, applying more pressure, doubling the pleasure for the both of you. "Oh, oh, f-fuck sir, please!" You didn't know what you were saying anymore, only focused on the way his cock was hitting your sweet spot perfectly, making you drool. The feeling in your stomach was only building up with every harsh thrust of his.

"Dolly wants to cum? Then do it baby, make a mess on me, c'mon." His lips were marking your neck as his thrust started being sloppy, finding it hard to keep up his pace but he managed so, wanting to breed you as fast as he could.

"Fuck! I'm gonna fucking breed you so good, the only thing you'll feel is my cum oozing out of you, ah~" You only moaned at his words, wanting him to do it. "Say it, doll or i won't fucking continue," He slapped your thigh harshly, bringing you back from your thoughts. "Ngh~, please, sir, come in me, please!" And that's when the both of you came together, moaning and holding each other through the high. You coming around him as Sunghoon came inside of you, painting your walls white. The feeling of his cum filling you up only brought more pleasure to you, realizing you liked the idea of being breed by Sunghoon.

He slowly pulled out and before he laid next to you, he made sure to gather his cum that spilled from inside you and push it in again, saying 'We don't wanna waste it, now do we baby?'

You giggled as he finally laid next to you, scooping you in his arms. You were feeling like you were floating. This was probably one of the best sex you've had.

"You did so good, baby, my good girl." His words brought you back to reality as you smiled up at him and kissed him. You wanted it to be nothing but a small, innocent kiss, but Sunghoon, on the other hand, had other plans as he deepened the kiss, pulling you on top of him, straddling him.

"Ride me?"

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months

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I'm sorry for spamming you I'm just really excited--

Reader who also streams and just rants a lot while they play Stardew Valley?

Like mid milking a cow or something they pause the game and rant about how to kiss someone or smth?...

-🌕 anon! <3

AH OMG DONT WORRY ABOUT SPAMMING I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶🫶🫶 but I absolutely love this LMAO I made this into a preference setup instead of a oneshot bc I didn't know exactly who you wanted and I was having difficulty finding a way to stretch it out that long anyways. idk much about stardew valley so bare with me, I rewatched Tommy's video of him playing w Molly to help me 💀💀

MCYT ; stardew valley rants

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, tubbo, freddie badlinu, niki nihachu, foolish gamers & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you'll just be doing some tasks and be like "you know, I've never kissed anyone before. like, how does that work?"

meanwhile Tommy came over a little bit ago to hang out after stream and he just looks at you like 🤨😨

"youve never kissed anyone?? wait... we haven't kissed before? y/n/n, what?"

you shake your head no, confirming that you guys actually never kissed somehow, your relationship was kinda new in both of your defenses.

"we've only been dating like, 2 months, it's fine"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO BE A KISSING VIRGIN FOREVER????"

literally have your first kiss on stream bro

THE EDITS 🫶🙏 I CANT EVEN

the cutest shit ever

TUBBO

you were playing stardew valley for a little calm/lofi stream before you went out to film with tubbo & tommy for a little challenge video

you got a little quiet after a while and started ranting about drama at school

you had some class time with a bunch of popular girls and you didn't exactly fit in with them and drama was starting to arrise

for a solid hour you were ranting about it

tubbo had your stream on as bg noise as he was on the bus to meet up with you and tommy

when you meet up afterwards his first words to you are "did you actually just rant for an hour about school drama?"

you nod and awkwardly smile cause you didn't know he was watching

"you're interesting to say the least"

"you are too!"

RANBOO

you literally paused the whole game mid-farming to rant about some restaurant you and ranboo went to the past day

chat was exploding with "oooo they went on a date" and you were just like "guys it was good food, 10/10"

they get you to join a call with them and you guys talk about it together and your whole experience and how awesome the food was

not to mention the aesthetic of the restaurant was so well put together

you got back to your stream with a little story for your viewers

BADLINU

you started ranting about a movie/show you're fixated on at the moment

went through all the lore, all the characters, background info, etc

Freddie was watching and using tts to talk to you

he encouraged it dw

like he was holding a convo w you and everything it was the cutest shit ever

the edits.

also people clipped the whole like half hour long thing and posted it to YouTube like "y/u/n and badlinu talk about ___!"

you don't even remember it within a week but HE DOES

just one of those cute relationship moments he loves to think about

QUACKITY

you were playing stardew while he was playing gta and you were on a vc together

so obv it kinda sounded crazy 💀💀

"y/n I'm gonna drive my Honda Accord over there and kill all your cows!"

"I swear to God, quackity, don't even dare"

not really ranting but you were yelling threats at him and shit LMAO

NIHACHU

you guys were playing together 🫶

you were teaching her how to do everything and stuff

you eventually went on a tangent about things you do and don't like about the game

she was agreeing to your solid points and stuff

that turns into a rant about hair color and if she can color your hair for you LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

"Dude, how do people do that van life shit? I'd die doing that"

straight up hour and a half rant about how much you hate van life tik tokkers while playing stardew valley

he's in your chat like "Yes 100 percent" and adding onto your points LMAO

you both share a hate for van life mfs

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #tubbo x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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poisonsage808 · 1 year

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hiii! i wanted to say first off that I love your work! i always come back to them whenever I'm in need of some sandor time and they never fail to make me smile.

i wanted to ask if you could do something w/ "i was so worried. it was killing me, not being able to reach out and touch you" from that secret relationship prompt list. I thought it was fitting for sandor cause that man secretly loves physical touch does he not?

♡ Strong Enough ♡

Sandor Clegane x Stark!Reader

a/n: hello there! i see your user all the time, i’m so happy you requested something and thank you for your constant support! i tweaked it a bit to suit him more but i hope you like it xoxoxo

tw: blood, violence, death, swearing

The gods were having a laugh at him, weren't they? Giving the ugliest brute in Westeros the heart of the sweetest thing he thinks he’s ever seen in gods know how long just to take them away. Of all the people in the world to weasel their way into the Hound’s heart, it had to be you. Twin to the Young Wolf, Robb, fucking you. A fucking Stark!

You’d somehow befriended the Hound during his stay at Winterfell but then you kissed him on the way to King’s Landing. He was certain you’d hate him after he killed that butcher's boy and end whatever it was the two of you had, but you didn’t. Then he was even more certain you’d hate him after he took you and your sister, Sansa, hostage, but you didn’t. Sandor was abso-fucking-lutely certain you’d hate him after King Joffrey ordered your father to be executed… but you didn’t.

“It’s not your fault,” You told him, some of those times through flooding tears, “Don’t risk your head, alright? Not for me, not for anyone.”

Gods, he hated it when you cried. And Sandor had been seeing you cry a lot ever since Joff had your father beheaded. Even so he allowed it, especially because you never cried in front of anyone else. You were strong like that, never giving them the satisfaction of knowing how you were truly feeling. Your red rimmed eyes may say otherwise, it was proof enough but Sandor still thought you were strong and he would hold you whenever he had the chance.

“Keep your head down, little wolf, and do as you're bid. Tell your sister the same.”

‘They won’t hurt you’ he wanted to say but they could. They did and have, whenever they had the chance. They being the Lannisters— Baratheons, whatever, the royal cunts he worked for. Sandor never felt guilt as heavy as he did these past months. He felt it every damn time he saw your stoic face, albeit the red under your eyes seemed to be permanently stained that way, in court or dutifully beside your sister.

The gods were testing his restraint as if Sandor needed a bloody test. He damn near gutted Meryn yesterday for the punch he gave you in front of everyone. He’d take a tongue lashing or walk the gallows for it, gladly. Then he met your eyes. Don’t risk your head, your voice ricotched inside his skull so loudly it stilled him. Sandor had never been so happy to see the dwarf in his life, ending the beating before Meryn’s sword struck you and only you. The little bird with her ripped dress sobbing on her knees tucked into your protective arms. He would’ve killed the Kingsguard himself if it wasn’t for Tyrion and, as much as he wanted to, he didn’t want the last time he saw you to be in that room.

Sandor bandaged you himself, undoing the shite work that old pervert Pycelle did.

“No one’s gonna hurt you again, little wolf.” He swore— no, he vowed, and the Hound didn’t do vows, “No one, you hear me?”

“I’m ok, Sandor.” You assured him as you always did, each time sounding weaker than the last. Never quite yet a lie, you were still strong.

Sandor felt the shift in the air less than halfway to the Red Keep, the walk was eerily quiet. He knew King Joff wasn’t beloved by any means but utter silence was a warning and he’d curse himself if he didn’t chance a look at his surroundings. He’d tell himself this anyways but his eyes landed on the little bird… then his little wolf following behind her.

You didn’t smile when you caught his brief gaze looking back at you over his shoulder. No, you felt the same tense aura he did and he could see the worried expression on your face. Fear. He thinks he hates that look on you more than tears. Sandor wished he could just grab you, hook you under his arm and make sure you stayed there until he saw you to safety.

Don’t they always say “it happened so fast” well it fucking did. Sandor blinked, Joff was hit and his sword was drawn out right after. Then everything went to shit. The Bread Riot they would call it by tomorrow but Sandor Clegane could name it right here and now; his worst fucking nightmare come to life.

Joff was fine, he made certain of that firsthand but when he turned around, though his body never ceased moving, his heart stopped. You and the little bird were nowhere to be seen. Sandor felt like he could breathe at least when he found Sansa, just in time by the looks of it. His sword hacked through flesh and bone then he swung the girl over his shoulder. She cried the whole way back, never ending blubbering was just as bad as her chirping. Only this time they were both thinking the same.

“Where are they!?” She sobbed, “Please, you have to—“

Sandor didn’t need to be fucking commanded to find you, so he didn’t stay to hear the rest of her pleas. He went back to face the riot a third time. Occasionally some idiot came at the Hound only to meet their gorey demise at his sword. Sandor shouted your name until his throat hurt, growing more panicked the longer he went without a response.

Until you called back.

Footsteps come closer, heavier, faster. Rounding the corner his nerves finally leave him alone with relief. Sandor’s shoulders slump as lets out a breath that takes away some of the tension he was holding onto. He takes one step closer while you close the distance with a leap. Your arms locked behind his neck, the blood on his armor smearing against your own attire. You didn’t seem to care, he certainly didn’t. The deathly grip on his weapon shook and his sword clattered when it hit the ground. Sandor enveloped you in his arms and breathed in the scent of your hair. He almost thanked the gods that laughed at him that you were alive—

Then he pulled away harshly, hands flying to your cup your cheeks and turning your head all around looking for any bruises or cuts. He ignored the way you said his name until he inspected every fucking inch of you, making sure you weren’t bleeding or something worse had happened. If you were it would all be his fault, he made fucking vows for you! He—

“Sandor.” You said again

He sighed then begrudgingly met your red rimmed eyes, “It.. it fucking killed me not to reach out and touch you.”

You somehow smiled and attempt to gently pry his hands away to hold them, “I’m ok, I—“

“No.” He growls and holds your face still in his grip.

His eyes are wide, boring into yours. His breaths short and shaking with every exhale. Is this fear? In the Hound— your Hound?

“It would’ve fuckin’ killed me if something happened to you. Do you understand me? I’m strong but,” Sandor sighs and blinks away any traces of fear you thought you saw but he doesn’t meet your eyes for the final part of his little speech, “I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

Halfway through his admission your brows punched up and tears welled in your eyes. You managed to swallow down the sob that almost escaped. Words aside, the seriousness and earnestness in his voice had you choking up. Including his statement, it was just about the closest Sandor Clegane has been to admitting he not only cared about you but quite possibly loved you.

“Look at me,” You managed to say, “I’m right here, Sandor, I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes find yours again. You’re smiling that bloody smile that twists his guts in a way he doesn’t necessarily dislike. It’s weak… but it’s there and it’s mighty reassuring. Sandor’s thumb catches a tear that drips down your cheek. He hates it when you cry.

“Alright…” He swallows hard on nothing.

#sandor clegane x reader #game of thrones imagine #imagine #x reader #game of thrones #sandor the hound clegane #poiboidrabbles #sandor clegane imagine #sandor x reader #sandor clegane

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perfectly-intoxicated · 2 months

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Yancy isn't sure why he reaches out to Hannah.

Or he does know, and it's buried so deep that he can't get a proper look at it. Maybe he could if he wasn't currently pinned down by gunfire and about fifty percent sure he was close to finding out what the afterlife is like.

It isn't love. Hell, he's not sure he's capable of it... or if she is. They spent an incredible night (and morning) together. They've talked here and there. She makes him laugh. He appreciates her sass and how she doesn't take shit from nobody, not even him.

He smiles. Fuck it. Least he could do is let her hear his voice one last time in a message.

"Hey, gorgeous... yer not gonna believe the shit I've got myself into. Or hell, you probably will." He chuckles, and it's cut off by a pained groan as he clears his throat. "Listen... shits gone sideways. I, ah... got some rats that I need to exterminate. I just wanted to tell you that... I had a lotta fun. Yer one of a kind, ya know? Of course you do... that's why I like you." Another groan, pops of gunfire. "If anyone contacts you claimin' to know me, don't give 'em the time of day. If... when I'm good, I'll call you."

There's a pause and a grunt, and it sounds like he's on the move. "Take care, Red."

What the fuck.

Hannah stares down at her phone and feels her food turn into cardboard in her mouth. She swallows, and then blinks as she processes the absolute twisted shit that was the voice message left for her by Yancy.

What the fuck?

“Come on Opie, get off.” She’s gently ushering her dog off her lap, voice monotone and mind blank as she starts to listen in on the news being displayed on the TV. If it wasn’t for the voice message (her gut twists for some ridiculous reason at the reminder of pain in Yancy’s voice), she would’ve ignored it, but that’s one of his stupid cars and that’s his stupid self in the middle of a stupid fucking shootout.

She’s not nervous, she’s not anxious, and she definitely doesn’t get scared. Who knows how many times Yancy’s had to deal with this kind of stuff or something similar?

If she wasn’t currently so pissed off at the people shooting at him and maybe, selfishly, a little bit at Yancy himself for some reason, she would’ve gone back to eating. They weren’t even a thing. They weren’t anything important. She had no reason to go and help him, no excuse she could use without doing some internal searching.

She recognizes that street.

… Fuck.

With a loud groan of exasperation and frustration, she grabs her phone and heads out with her special guitar case and towards the center of the action. She dials his number, leaves a message when he doesn’t answer because he’s in the middle of his stupid fucking life-or-death situation, and quickens her pace.

“What the hell is going on, Yancy? Who the fuck are those people?!” She yells into her phone before lowering her voice to a loud scolding when she gets side-eyed by a random individual. “‘When you’re good, you’ll call me’? Like hell you will. I swear to God, if you get yourself killed, I’m raising you back from the dead and killing you myself!”

She’s already driving to the nearest corner where she won’t be seen when she hangs up.

#𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞. (au)#freebirdyance #you can be the boss (mb yancy)#margarita (answered asks)

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soulprompts · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 (𝐏𝐓. 𝟏)

so, i absolutely love cooking! it's a passion of mine, i've been cooking for my family for years, people seem to find my food edible enough, and i recently found myself unable to cook at all for about a week, resulting in this little list coming into existence! i'm most likely going to make more of these, simply because the dynamics in a kitchen are varied as hell, right? we have romantic couples who cook together as a hobby, there's professional restaurant kitchen settings, baking oriented stuff, cooking with kids, there's a LOT to be done w the topic! so these are more for the chaos of someone who cannot boil an egg to save their life, vs. someone who enjoys cooking and is widely considered to be a dab hand at it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST! but i do hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed making it!

" hey, hey, it's okay! we'll scrape off the burnt bits! "

" here, let me chop the onions, okay? you can dice the peppers and beef; just be sure to do them on separate boards, yeah? "

" you... you know the wine was for the stew, don't you?! "

" i swear to you, i don't know how this happened. i followed every single instruction, word for word! "

" taste this and tell me what you think! "

" oh my god... this is AMAZING! you should have your own cooking show! "

" you're kidding me! no way this whole thing is vegan! it's just too good! "

" so, um... i might have possibly accidentally tipped the entire jar of cayenne pepper into the soup... and by might have, i mean definitely. "

" i think i'm gonna have to ask you to leave the kitchen before you hurt somebody. "

" it says here to fold in the eggs... now, tell me, how exactly does one do that? "

" i might have over-exaggerated my cooking skills... and blown up the oven. "

" look, it sounds gross, but i'm telling you, when it's cooked right, it's the best thing ever! "

" i lied to my date and now they think i'm this amazing cook when i'm absolutely not, so please, can you spare me the lecture and just teach me how to cook? "

" woah, woah, woah... try chopping like this. yeah, that's it. you won't chop off your hand this way. "

" so, um... how exactly did it manage to stay frozen solid on the inside, but scorch to a crisp on the outside? "

" okay, remember when it asked for fifty grams of sugar? yeah. i accidentally used salt. "

" well, at least we know the smoke alarms work, right? "

" i ruined three knives, i have a roast chicken embedded in my ceiling, my oven officially needs therapy, and so do i! wanna call it quits and order a pizza? "

" i swear, you're one of those kitchen gods who can make ice cubes taste fantastic! "

" this is the fun part! take that tenderiser, and beat the absolute crap out of that pile of steaks. "

" i'm trying so hard not to judge you right now, but... onion goggles?! "

" how on earth did you get pasta sauce on the ceiling? "

" you know every single firefighter in town knows my name? and my top three favorite comfort foods to bring each time i trigger the fire alarm? yeah. that's my culinary reputation. "

" hey. it's okay. this isn't the first time i've burnt dinner. i have taco bell on speed dial. "

" sometimes recipes just don't work out. and that's okay! what matters is that you tried. "

" i didn't realize it was even possible to burn water! "

" ah... i see where you went wrong. the recipe uses paprika. this is chilli powder. "

" quit eating the batter, or we'll have no cupcakes at all! "

" no! no way. i'm not tasting anything cooked by you; not since your orange juice gave me food poisoning. "

" the last time i tried to cook, my pot roast ended up on fire and put a hole in my dry wall. i had to hang paintings over it until i could refill the crater. "

" no, you cannot cook chicken medium-rare. wanna know why? because that means it's raw. and you'll end up with food poisoning. and i'll have to tell you what a moron you were to even think that was an acceptable thing to do in the first place. "

" i thought you teaching me how to cook would be all soft and friendly, like the great british bake-off! but it's more like hell's kitchen. "

" no tears in my kitchen, thank you! "

" six fires in three hours is your personal best! only problem is, we're making fruit salad... "

" i understand that it's meant to be salted caramel, but... exactly how much salt did you use?! "

#roleplay meme #rp meme #dialogue prompts #sentence starters #writing prompts #roleplay prompt #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #food tw #food mention tw

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felixisourayofsunshine · 7 months

Text

Okay so I really wanted to talk about emonette's character plus Shadybug and Clawnoir's relationship......... Well this is gonna be a long one so sorry in advance

Okay let's go!!!

So as we saw in the special emonette said that she was constantly bullied by Chloe(guess she doesn't change in any universe 😔 that damn brat I hate her.... not more than Lila though) and considering how broken she sounded that was not the same bullying that Chloe of this universe did to Mari that shit must've been extreme. However, I donot think that the bullying alone there must've been more aspects which lead her to the path of evil.

Well, while we're at it let's talk about this scene.. God this was so heart wrenching....

When she said that-

"I'm sorry mommy dear, I fine I just- just dropped my sewing kit it's A BIT DAMAGED"

When she said the above line while glancing at her face which reflected on those broken pieces of mirror.... I swear I wanted to cry. Don't you see how poetic this was, while she seemed to be taking about the broken mirror we can clearly see that the one who is broken Is her some one once said

"But that's the irony, broken people, are not fragile....."

So while emonette is completely broken inside she never lets show on her face, no matter how sad, how broken, how miserable she is she keeps moving forward, you wonder why? Well, because it's MARINETTE for crying out loud.... no matter what universe it is our Mari puts on a brave face in front of other, she tends to hide her scars and crying silently not letting others know. Even in the original universe she would have broken much sooner if it was not for Alya finding out her identity. But as emonette said herself she doesn't have loving parents, a best friend and a supportive boyfriend, she was left all alone to suffer without anyone by her side

I still wonder what her wish really was though, knowing her it certainly not power. Could it be something else which she yearns for. Okay so hear me out do you remember what she said to Mari? She said:

"Do you think that it'd be any different from how it is now? Guess what, I don't have your nice little life. The world where I'm from there are no awesome girlfriends to inspire me everyday, no amazing bff, lovable, calm and gentle mom or a boyfriend who doesn't think I'm a total loser...."

These lines broke me though 😭...

So my theory is that in that universe Tom is dead and Sabine is abusive( I totally can't imagine that tho) that would explain why she behaved like that with Sabine and she works in her dad's bakery to keep his name.

Oh well I have a worse on........ Both Tom and Sabine are dead and she was adopted by someome who were very abusive(let's consider that after she graduated junior high she moved out of that school and is probably out of Chloe's grasp) they even intended to sell the bakery, the only belonging of her late parents she was left with. That was when she met supreme and he offered her that in exchange of killing her abusive guardian she will have to work with him. So maybe her wish could be returning to those happy times with her parents without Chloe or any suffering. Well I guess it was a bit far fetched but anywaaaays.... 😅

Okay let's analyse another scene..... The one where she was reading Mari's diary.

What's interesting about her in Mari's room was that she certainly recognised her room and we can see that she does live in the bakery after all. The reason why she acted that way was to save her identity getting exposed to Claw Noir(which I don't think she cares that much about) or she really wanted to find out if this version of her had a better and happier life than hers.while she pretended that she wanted to look for clues, she went through Mari's personal stuff life her computer, her diary and her other things not because she was looking for clues but because she wanted know what kind of life this MARINETTE had.

Look, she was crying while reading that diary. She wants this life.

Just look at her... Looking into the life of a version of herself she wishes she could be. A world where "THERE ARE AMAZING GIRLFRIENDS TO INSPIRE HER EVERYDAY, AN AMAZING BFF, LOVABLE AND CALM MOM AND A BOYFRIEND WHO DOESN'T THINK THAT SHE IS A TOTAL LOOSER".

You see.. behind that evil mask there is a broken girl who longs to be loved. she wants a shoulder to cry on, hands who would embrace her tight when she is crying. She may look like a total badass who doesn't need anyone but no! that's not the case at all.

Aaaand I think she does have someone like that in her life already, and that person is the one and only CLAW NOIR. ........Even if she refuses to acknowledge it.

So, while she was shutted down, abandoned, bullied and absused her whole life and had no one to helf her up, Claw Noir was there for her,even though he is a total dork who teases her all the time.

Well yeah he is hella rude and disrespects her A LOT, it may look like she may never fall for him normally, but lets consider emonette's circumstances...... As much as we know she doesn't have anyone to rely on, no friends and probably no family. She never had anyone to inspire her. In a life like this...... After she got her miraculous and met Claw Noir, she finally had a reason to live, a reason to fight and a person, she could work together with and trust just a little bit yeah not totally cuz well he does let her fall head on..

In Mari's room when she reads the diary and learns about Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship, their friendship, their partnership. She does look like she wants that too. (Also this may not apply to everyone but sometimes two people who like each other tease each other a lot....... )

They may fight eachother and not consider each other as partners, but they do make an amazing team. They may not be partners but they've got eachother's back at time of need. Just how Shadybug needs Clawnoir's strength while fighting and how Clawnoir relies on Shadybug's plans.

Also this scene...... While you can say that he is acting this way because he now knows that she is Marinette, the girl he likes.., but we know he is Adrien afterall he may care about Shadybug deep down without realising it and with him now knowing who she really is has realised it.

Just look at him he looks sad when he sees her cry too. He may act like he doesn't care but he actually does. He is like "I am the only one who can hurt her, anyone else who dares to do that must pay....." .

And the scene where she opens up to Mari was just so emotional, I literally started crying. There was pain, sorrow and grief in her eyes. She was suffering and was jealous of Mari,'cuz she thought that she had everything for granted, she thought that she never knew what suffering was like. Her words were so sad. But after Mari made her feel that they really are alike and changed her for better I felt so happy......

And after that when she met (now improved) Claw Noir they felt like they were more to each other and I loved it..

All I want now is a ShadyClaw series.. we need to know what happened after that.... And before they landed in the multiverse.

Well aren't they the cutest.

I wish they become a couple in future.....

Oh well that was a long one.....

Well I had it in mind for quite a long time but couldn't write it because I have exams coming 😭. But wanted to finish it before I forgot it. So here I am. I hope y'all liked it though.

Okay let's end it with a quote:.

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

I hope this becomes true for our beloved emoadrinette.

Bug out!🐞🐾

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h0nkch0c0late · 5 months

Text

ABSOLUTELY ANON

PARTY GOERS & SMOKE

Jack Mercer x Reader

SUMMARY: sometimes house parties can be fun, even when you hate them.

WARNINGS: swearing, talk of drugs and alcohol

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

You had never been the type to go to parties, let alone go out of your apartment. You found that the people were too loud, too pushy, and specifically at house parties, a little too gross.

But, your best friend had asked, -begged-, you to go with her that night, and for once you didn't feel like sitting around reading or watching TV, so you agreed.

...you regretted it almost immediately.

There you sat, in the living room, surrounded by the usual TV show cliche party goers.

There were two people beside you on the couch you were sitting on, practically eating each other's faces. Whether they were a couple or just a couple of people looking for a good time, you didn't know and frankly, you didn't want to know.

Then, there were the huddled up groups talking about God-knows-what, drinking booze and some even smoking pot.

You always the hated the smell of pot, it clung to your clothes like a disease as you huddled yourself in the corner of the couch you had claimed before the people beside you had completely taken the couch over.

Then, there were the people grinding against each other to the music, not that you blamed them, at least they were having a drunken good time, and the people upstairs who sounded like they were having an even better time (this house somehow had very thin walls).

But, the person who caught your eye the most, was a tall-ish boy who sported a leather jacket and jeans combo. He had waded his way through the crowd and towards the back door, probably to hangout on the puke-covered patio.

Curious, you got up from your place on the couch, the couple making no time in covering your spot with one of their limbs as you made your way through the many sweaty bodies that stunk of BO, alcohol, and drugs.

You couldn't help but let out a refreshing gasp as your lungs quickly inhaled the fresh air of the outdoors as you had opened the backdoor.

At the sound of your gasp, the boy turns to you, a cigarette between his lips and lighter in hand, he was smirking.

You couldn't quite blame him, though, you were quite a sight. Your clothes were covered in vomit due to your best friend having thrown everything she had drank on you only minutes before you had sat down on the couch, about six drinks had been spilled on your clothes, with none of it being your own!

"...hi?" You waved awkwardly at the boy, walking up to him, standing yourself next to him at the railing.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your awkward demeanor as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, opening it and holding it towards you, "you look like you need one."

You shake your head, "I'm gonna have to politely decline. Not much a smoker."

He shrugs, closing the box and shoving it back into his jacket pocket, "well, at least I asked."

"Those things can kill you, you know." You replied with a small smirk, leaning against the railing with your arms crossing over your chest.

He chuckled again, "oh, I'm aware. Why do you think I do it?"

You couldn't help but shudder at the deep, gravelly voice that he had. It was surprising, really, as it didn't exactly match how he looked. It did, however, match the rock & roll vibes he was going for as he blows out a puff of smoke.

"That's fair, we all gotta die some way, right?" You laughed lightly, glancing down at your hands.

He laughed along, putting the cigarette between his lips as he responded, "Heh, yeah I guess we do. What's your name by the way, sweetheart?"

"I'll give you mine if you give me yours." You smirk, attempting to give yourself some sort of mystery.

He grins, blowing the smoke from between his lips as he let out a deep chuckle, "Jack Mercer." He replied, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You shook his hand, "still not giving you my name. I like being mysterious." You grinned mischievously.

His mouth fell open, his hand going to his heart in feigned offense, "you just said I'll give you mine if you give me yours. It's hardly fair for you to now know my name and me know nothing." He pointed out.

You shrugged, "I lied. I'm a Liar. A compulsive one, you can never trust me." You're voice teasing.

"Well, I'll have you know that even though you're a compulsive Liar, I'd still like to get to know you. Maybe I can convince you to tell me your favourite colour before you're name." He suggested, nudging your shoulder before bringing the cigarette to his lips.

"It'll take a lot of convincing. I'm not a very easy person to crack, after all." You remarked, glancing towards the slightly ajar back door, where the party was still raging inside.

Jack followed your gaze, "So, what brings you out here? Tired of the party?" He asks, stomping out his finished cigarette and grabbing a new one.

You turn to him, "parties aren't exactly my thing in the first place, kinda needed a chance to escape, then I saw you coming out here and thought oh! Perfect!"

"Ah, so if you're not the party type, why ya here?" He asks, his eyebrows creased in curiosity.

"My best friend wanted me to go, and I'm not one to deny her fun, so I agreed. I didn't know it was going to be THIS horrible of an experience, though. Well, it was horrible up until I met you." You explain, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Glad to know I made your night better just by existing." He laughed.

You chuckle left your lips, "yeah, and I'd appreciate it if you did it for many other nights." You moved to rest your elbows on the railing.

"Many other nights? You mean you wanna actually get to know me? Does this mean I get to know you?" He grinned, moving closer to you as he takes a puff from his cigarette.

"Yes to the first one, maybe to the second." You grin back.

He rests his elbows on the railing, standing next to you, "I'm okay with maybe." He replies softly, blowing the smoke between his lips.

"Good." You reply, nudging him slightly.

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

Oh my God yall the way I struggled so hard to write this without messing up and posting it when I wasn't done yet 😭😭😭😭 I've done that so many times it's embarrassing. Anyways anon I know its not like all romantic and stuff but I just aifhabfjwjeb3

#jack mercer x reader #jack mercer #x reader #four brothers #jack mercer four brothers

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sophswritingthings · 6 months

Note

HAI!!! ^_^ HOW'S PO ART TEN COMING ALONG AND I HAVE SOME CONCEPTS FOR MODERN ERA MIZU AMD READER.

So I'm thinking reader is like an assistant to a nurse at school and Mizu is like that one student who carries around one of those practice swords since she probably in a fencing program or smth idk and she gets injured cuz she spars with taigen a lot.

Due to being injured alot she goes to the nurses office and finds Reader helping the nurse out and they see each other for the first time and it's really awkward but cute, reader just goes like "uh- hi?"

Or maybe reader is like Mizu's childhood friend but idk because it's all I can think abt 😭

pairing: modern au!mizu x fem!nurses assistant!reader

warning(s): just some light swearing, mentions of blood/wound

a/n: MEET CUTE!!!!!!!!!!

summary: a student, a student you’ve seen around before, stumbles into the nurses office injured. she looks like she’s your age, around 17 or 18.

word count: 546 words / 3,042 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were messing around with the bandages and reorganizing the medicines.

again.

you wanted to be the nurses assistant because you liked helping people! but when all of the students are prissy hard assess that never get hurt, your jobs kind of boring.

“(y/n)?” the nurse calls into the back room. you rush to your feet, dashing out to see what he wants.

god—maybe you finally get to help a patient!

“I’ve got a girl out there, she’s just got a small wound on her arm. you want to take her?” he questions, cocking his head—he knows the answer.

you smile, looking giddy and excited.

“of course I do!” you smile, taking a deep breath to try and relax yourself.

you didn’t like to see people hurt, that wasn’t it—you just wanted to help people when they were hurt.

you slowly walk out into the front of the office. you’re met with a pair of dashing blue eyes, and a neutral yet not unhappy expression. just.. relaxed, despite her bleeding arm.

“um—hi?” you call to her, finally getting her to look up.

her response is slow and hesitant as she looks at you.

“.. you’re the nurse?” she asks. “you look a little.. young, for that.”

you chuckle, “people say that a lot,” you gave her a soft smile, gesturing her back into the officer. “I’m just his assistant. I wanted to get some practice in before I go for med school, yeah?”

“yeah.” she nods at you, sitting down on the bed. “I guess that’s smart.”

“hm,” you smile, grabbing the bandages and disinfecting wipes. “so.. how’d you get this? what happened?”

“fencing practice,” she responded, her voice raspy and dry.

“ah! I see. but..” you glance down at her arm. “don’t you use practice swords there?”

she scoffed, a smile breaking her dry expression.

“well.. yes. but who said we were using practice swords?”

you giggle, nodding at her.

“I see,” you begin to wipe down her wound, feeling her twitch. “sorry—it’s gonna burn.”

“.. I know that now,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“sorry.” you whisper again, casting your gaze downward.

“it’s fine,” she murmured back.

you begin to tightly wrap her wound in the white bandages, stopping the blood from flowing out freely.

“thank you,” she muttered. “I’ll probably be seeing you often.”

“god—I hope not,” you sigh. you pause, looking up—realizing that your words sounded offaly rude. “sorry! I-I didn’t mean, um—“

she chuckled, “I know what you meant. relax.”

you rub the back of your neck, watching as she descended from the table. you look up at her, seeing as she’s significantly taller than you.

“I’m not very good at relaxing,” you whisper.

“I can see that,” she responded. “I should teach you sometime.”

you giggle, “teach me to relax?”

she nods, rather confidently, you might add.

“It’s something your taught. to just like, let go off all that shit?” she cocks her head questioningly.

“I suppose you’re right,” you mumble. “give me your phone number, then?”

she slides out a piece of paper, as if she knew this was going to happen.

“I’ll see you tuesday, than.”

your eyes were wide as she walked out of the office with the upmost confidence, your face covered in a rosy blush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: SMOOOTHHH

#mizu x you #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #ask #asked and answered #request #fic request #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

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magicinverse · 9 months

Text

I'm just gonna say that the biggest soldiers in everything are and will always be

THE MODS

Shout out to

Roier's: the amount of times the mods are being criticize about being too strict is ridiculous considering that Roier's chat is one the healthiest, I won't talk about tripoiers outside of Roier's chat, rather have a strict chat than a horrible chat, he doesn't have a lot of mods but come on Sabi counts for like 10 mods

Foolish: this are God sends the amount of times mg or any disgusting comment comes and they erase it at the speed of the sound is awesome, the admiration I have for them is endless

Fit's: His mods are also awesome, i can't see a lot of Fit cause he streams in times that are not compatible for my schedule, but the times I have his mods have done an incredible job and I only hear good things about them

Felps: His chat is so so nice, I haven't been there a lot either but when I am it's such a nice mood!!! I also don't know if it's purely the mods job but surely it's a good job either way

Tazercraft : I don't know a lot about the mods but most of the time their chat is really nice and healthy I like to be there when I can cause is really chill, at least it has been the times I have been there

Cellbit's: I will say I do think this is mostly cause they (chat) fear Cellbit cause he's always ready to nag the chat when it needs to be done, his mods make things really interactive for the chat and although I do think sometimes they let things that shouldn't happen go through I think they do a good job considering the amount of people there is in Cellbit's chat

And that's it, those are my favorite chats!! I haven't seen a lot of the new ones but yeah, a big thanks to the mods on those chats, they are God sends and I'm really greatful for the work they do!!! I think it also helps that this are all streamer that are willing to talk to the community when they think things are getting out of hand so also greatful for those streamers

Edit: I can't believe I forgot Philza, he has an absolutely awesome chat and his mods are so so awesome, hand of steel I swear

#qsmp #Thank you mods!!!#You guys do a great job #Now I might not include all the good mods #But I think this chats are my favorites #Also I don't know a lot about Jaiden's twitch mods cause she's been streaming on twitch for really short period

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fuckmymunson · 1 year

Note

🎄𝗨𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲: Send me a character + prompt from this smut list ;)!

eddie munson + “Show me how much you missed me.” + “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

SORRY BUT I'M IN THE MOOD FOR SUB EDDIE 🥺, please don't hate me anon!!! (I'll add the «read more» thing later ok assholes)

18+, smut!!!, Rockstar!Eddie!!!, Sub!Eddie (♡), ass play, spit, masturbation mwah (m), lmk if I missed something!

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ♡ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Dating a rockstar had it's perks. Of course you were proud of him, pursuing his dreams and you celebrated every accomplishment. Eddie was your pride and joy.

It had its bad perks; Many, many people whoring themselves out just for a speck of attention from him. It didn't helped that he had to sign tits, ass and thighs every now and then. It didn't helped that literally everyone with a pulse threw themselves over his lap at every given chance. You trusted him, of course. You knew by his word (and the other members of Corroded Coffin that he declined every offer or flirting).

Plus, one of those good perks, was so fucking touch starved and needy he got away from you.

You wondered what people would think of him right now; With his ass up in the air, his hairy legs spread nice and wide for you, two lubed fingers inside his tight ass, rubbing your fingertips against his prostate.

The pace was slow, at least too slow for his liking. Eddie whined in frustration, his neglected, hard cock aching against his stomach, smearing a bead of precum over it. His hips moved backwards, begging for more.

"Stop squirming, pretty boy" You scolded him with a gentle slap on his ass. "You gonna hurt yourself baby, slow down, I'm not going anywhere"

"B—but—fuck" He moaned against the silky pillows after you curled your fingers inside his clenching hole. "I need you, I want you so bad—please, please"

Eddie's eyes rolled to the back of his head when he heard you spitting right into his puckered entrance, he wished he could fucking see it. His cock twitched painfully, it could be so easy to just reach down and wrap a hand around it; But he knew better than to disobeying.

"I've been so good! I've been so obedient—" He begged again, and this time it worked. You chuckle at his plea, still mesmerized by how such a metal looking ass dude would beg to have his ass fucked like a bitch in heat.

A third finger inside him successfully broke his pathetic rambling. You smiled and reached for the lube bottle, squeezing it just above his asshole. The cold, slippery liquid made Eddie whine again, a choke moan that sounded like your name or something.

"Come on pretty boy, fuck yourself on my fingers. Show Mommy how much you missed me"

To remark your words, you reached around and wrapped a hand around his big, hard cock, squeezing the tip before starting to jerk him off.

"Oh—oh—Thank you, thank you Mommy thank—" Eddie cried and rocked his hips back, drooling all over his pillows. His soft and high whimpers made you moan as well, this motherfucker was such a little needy whore.

His sweet sounds were amazing, so desperate and his little giggles that soon turned into moans made your tummy twist in excitement. His thighs shook so much, the more he moved, the closer he got to his orgasm. His back arched the second his pleasure jumped over the bridge and the ecstasy crashed into his body. You heard every single noise and pant and you could swear you saw heaven.

His cock twitched in your hand as he came his stomach and the bed, almost sobbing in raw pleasure.

Thank god this was only for you to see.

#omel is writing!#omel answers!#omenhel's 1.5k flowers!#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #sub!eddie #sub!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie by omel!

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stonemags · 1 year

Text

SUGAR BABY AU

Ch.4 Leeway

Characters in this series: Reader, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Carol Danvers, Darcy Lewis, Maria Hill, Kate Bishop, Pepper Potts, Valkyrie, Shuri

Summary: As a good friend you are responsible for people closest to you, right? But can you handle it all at once? For now, your friends are a priority.

Warnings: age gap relationships, sugar mommy/sugar baby relationships, swearing, aggression, cheating, all story is gonna be +18, you are responsible for your own ass.

Word count: 6556

A/N: This chapter took a while and im greatfull for all your patience. This story is a proces and i go through it while writing, it growns on me with every sentance and page. Im happy i can share it with you. All ideas, theories, comments are welcome. Dont steal or claim my stuff as yours or im going to bite your ass off. Enjoy!

As always thanks to @charturnus for editing, helping to write and posting this fic. It wouldn't be here without you.

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4

The next morning. You find Darcy occupied with her phone, laughing at something and scrolling down TikTok. You can tell which side of the platform she is on, and you smile under your breath, hearing the “woooo I’m mentally ill” sound, that both of you love. You gather yourself and enter the living room. You feel guilty, it wasn't right for you to speak to her this way, or say those things. Your opinions should never get between you and your friends, no matter what they do. God, you would help them bury a body without a question, why would you be a bitch about the way they decide to go in their life. That's not your place to say so, and you see it now, after a mostly sleepless night. You need to set things right, you need to apologize. You need to-

“Is this one of your ADHD things, when you just stand in the middle of the room and have a full-on conversation with yourself?” Darcy's voice breaks you out of your reverie, and you look at her with shocked eyes. You get lost sometimes. I guess it was one of those moments.

“Yeah… I haven't taken my meds yet. Sorry about that.” You hang your head down and move closer to the couch that is occupied by Darcy and at least 5 blankets. Why would anybody need 5 blankets on one couch? It's not even that cold. Yes, it's November, but still, it's pretty warm for this time of the year.

“You are doing it again.” This time she touches your shoulder to bring you out and ground you, in reality a little bit more.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It's okay, what's bothering you?” She knows what, of course, she knows. The whole argument happened not more than 7 hours ago. God, you don't deserve her.

“Darcy…. About yesterday…” You start fidgeting with your hands. Clearly uncomfortable, you are being eaten up from the inside by guilt. The fuzzy blanket that you are sitting on provides comfort with its texture.

“About yesterday… I…”

“I know.” And you know she does, but she needs to hear it. You turn to the side to look at her, taking her hand into yours. You two were never touchy with each other. This is the kind of friendship where you would rather die than hug your friend, but you still would die for her in seconds. The older you two got, the closer you were, and the relationship between you two is far more mature now, you both are.

“Still, even if you do, it wasn't acceptable for me to say those things. I don't have the knowledge of how it looks from your side. I have my own issues, I shouldn’t put that on you or attack you because of them. It wasn't right, and it won't happen again. I'm not going to judge any of you and if I'm going to be confused about anything I'm just going to ask. I was ignorant, angry, tired and rude. Nothing excuses my behaviour. I'm sorry Darcy.”

She shifts her position and gets really close to you. You feel her arms around your neck and her face hidden in the crook of your neck. She feels warm, like home or fireplace, like the fuzzy blanket under your palm providing you with comfort. It takes you a second, but you practically scoop her up in your arms, hiding her even more in your chest. You stay like that for a little while and once you start pulling away you feel her grabbing you tighter. You don't let go.

“I'm sorry too.” You want to interrupt her, tell her that there is nothing to apologize for, that you were in the wrong, but she speaks again.

“I said some shitty stuff yesterday. I don't want to talk to you that way. Even if I was a little bit right.” you both laugh at it, and the world gets a little lighter. The heavy feeling on your shoulders, it's always there, it always lingers, but now you don't carry it by yourself. When you finally pull apart, both of your eyes are a little bit glassy, you both notice it, but nobody will say anything.

“You need to repay me, though. For the things you said.” Of course. You know that she is just using the situation and that you are actually forgiven, but you play the game either way.

“You have one wish. Shoot.”

“And no saying no?”

“No saying no.”

“I'm going to set you up on a date. And before you interrupt me…” You were actually going to interrupt her.

“You have to be there for at least 30 minutes, and then I'm not going to set you up with anyone ever again.”

“Deal.” She looks at you like you’re dumb. This kind of look that tells you she is not done. You take a dramatic breath in.

“What else…?” She smiles and as much as you will never admit it, you want her happy.

“Today Carol is having a small party with clients, friends, and business partners. It’s Bridgerton themed. You are going to be there, and you are going to like it. And no, you don't have to be there from the start, I know how you feel about all these business conversations. The party starts around 6pm and is going to last till 11pm at least. After that it's just going to be us, Maria, Kate, Pepper, Carol, Natasha and Wanda.” Hearing the last two names pulls a reaction from you. It’s one of the most dramatic eye rolls you've ever done. Darcy is laughing at you at this point, and you can't help but join her. You are not happy about any of that, but at the same time, you owe it to her.

“Yes ma’am.” The blanket beneath your fingers becomes overwhelming, so you start playing with your rings.

“Good girl, now go because you have classes in half an hour.” She cares, and that's one of the ways she shows you that she does.

“Also, don't worry about your regency outfit! I’ve already taken care of it.” Your best friend tells you, not moving from the couch, as you stand up to take care of breakfast. She really gets on your nerves sometimes, but to be honest, you didn't even think about the outfit. You are grateful, even if it’s her that put you in this situation.

“Actually, I’m not going to uni today.” That's shocking news for her, and you get why she is surprised.

“I also called off my shift at the bar.” Well that's a double shock, and it's surprising that she can take it. She gets off the couch and walks up to you, checking your temperature.

“Are you sick? Wait, you’re not dying, are you?” You love that dramatic bitch.

“No, actually, we need to call a family meeting today.”

‘’Oh,’’ Darcy breathes, realizing that the situation is serious. Only a few times before the meeting was called, this was the day Carol was introduced to all of you, or when Maria finally came out. This is an emergency only situation, and you are pretty sure that this one is justified.

“Wait, family meeting? Someone died?” Maria’s sleepy voice flows through the room. Her hair is messy. Her silk robe flows nicely around her body. You always admired her confidence, and she is surprisingly kind for such an attractive person. Her hair is freshly cut, shoulder-length is the most comfortable for her, at least that's what she always says when they get too long. You like that about her, the way she knows what she wants, when and how. Even more, you don't understand why she would give control to anyone else.

“Nobody died. Kate’s home?” You say.

“Yeah, she came back around 4am.” Darcy's answer is followed by a big yawn. All of you can use a break today, and a little bit more sleep.

‘’Could you please wake Kate up?’’ You say, turning to Maria.

‘’I’ll get started on pancakes in the meantime.’’

She moves from her spot by the door and hurries to Kate's room. It's not going to be easy, but the longer you are putting off the conversation, the harder it's going to get.

Preparing breakfast takes you little to no time, everything always goes by fast when you have Darcy on your side. You two work in perfect harmony, managing to cook, set up the table and even squeeze fresh orange juice for all of you. The scent of sweet citrus filled the whole room, bright sunlight falls aggressively through ajar blinds. Crispy air hits you as you move to close the window, trying to get rid of the burned smell of the last failed pancake. You are still going to eat it, you hate wasting food.

Darcy is on your right, sitting cross-legged on a high chair with a messy bun and an oversized sweater stolen from Carol. She looks peaceful and warm. Maria sits half naked in front of you. She is always really comfortable in her own skin and it shows. Long pyjama pants and a bra are her go to outfits in the morning. It suits her. When Kate comes out of her room, the first thing that you acknowledge is her wet hair, indicating she just had a shower and dark circles under her eyes. She moves smoothly closer to where you all wait for her and as she moves behind you, she stops in her tracks for a second to wrap her arms around your torso from behind. She hides her head in the crook of your neck, and all you can do is put your hand smoothly through her hair, hugging her closer with one arm.

“I missed you.” She whispers just for you to hear, and you feel tiredness and pain of the past busy weeks in her voice. It fills you with love, care but also anger for not being able to change it for her, or rather respecting the peace she chooses to live her life on. She needs to learn, and you will be here to catch her if she falls. And that's exactly why family meetings are so needed.

“I missed you too, hun.” Her smile makes you happy and breaks your heart at the same time. You have been in situations when someone was trying to open your eyes, and you were taking out anger and pain on the messenger. Honestly, there is nothing she could do to push you away, but you know some part of her will hate you after this.

“So what's the family meeting about? It sounds serious, you even took a day off.”

“Let's just eat for now. We're gonna talk later.”

****

You wash the dishes after breakfast while girls talk with each other on the couch. They offered to clean, but you needed a second for yourself to muster up the courage to tell her the truth. Giving yourself time is needed, but also creates moments like this. Wet sponge in your right hand, plate in your left, and your phone laying heavy in your pocket with evidence. You feel it digging into your leg through the material, kind of like pushing you to stop procrastinating the inevitable, so you do.

You sit down on an ottoman that matches the rest of the couch set and as you sigh heavily, all the attention is drawn to you. Nobody’s rushing you to open up, it's one of the many rules of the meetings. They all wait for you, ready to provide comfort at all times. You lock your eyes with Kate’s, and as you almost always keep your posture and face up, your eyes water up a little, but not enough for them to notice.

“Go on y/n. Lay it on me.” She is the youngest of all of you, but sometimes she is more mature than all of you combined.

“Valkyrie is cheating on you.” You can see in her eyes that she thinks it's a joke, another dumb idea of yours to separate the two of them because you don't think her girlfriend deserves her, so you continue.

“I was at the bar, had my shift with Steve, she was there. There was a whole group of people, God, all of them drunk out of their minds. She came to me and told me that you’re not texting her back. She wasn't too nice about it.” You take a deep breath in and grab anything you have close to you to stop yourself from standing up and pacing around the room. The plastic scrunchie provides some stimulation, so you look at her again.

“At some point, she started kissing some girl that was in that group. I don't even know if they know each other.” Kate just listens, not taking her eyes off of you. You notice her lips quivering a little, but it's so slight that you’ve almost missed it.

“Shuri was there, she can vouch for this.”

“Wait, you saw your ex!?” Darcy jumps in but back off as soon as she can catch herself going off-topic, that's not important right now and she knows it.

“Show me.” Two words you hoped you wouldn't hear. Speaking about it is one thing, but seeing it with her own eyes will be different. As the last resort, you try to play dumb, pretending not to know what she means.

“This is far too important for you not to have the proof. Just show me y/n, I’m a big girl.” So you do. When you hand her the phone, it’s already opened in your gallery. It's the last thing you recorded. The video starts with Shuri drinking her martini and talking to you about something happening at her university. However, as soon as you zoom into the group, she falls silent.

‘’Oh fuck,’’ The girls can hear Shuri swearing, combined with your heavy breathing through the speaker in your phone. The scene ends with Valkyrie standing up and dragging the girl behind her into the bathroom area and Shuri’s voice saying “y/n don't do it”.

“What did you do?” Maria asks what everybody is wondering. You answer her question, but all you say is for Kate and only for her.

“I didn't do anything. I ended my shift and went home.” She believes you, you are always honest with her, always.

“I wanted to tell you right after, but this is not something to do over the phone. Maybe I should have just found you at your job, I'm sorry but-” She's interrupting your explanation with the softest voice she has.

“It's okay, I know you are more of a face to face person.” The scrunchie is long forgotten on the floor, and Kate's hands are secured strongly in yours. You caress her palm with your thumb, providing as much comfort through the touch as you can, but she leans back on the couch. You expected anger, sadness, a breakdown or denial, but not this.

“I mean, she was awful either way, right?” Both Darcy and Maria jump in with copious nodding and approval of that statement.

“I guess it's for the better, at least I have a good reason to end it now.” With that she…. smiles? Something is wrong, something is very wrong.

For the next 5 minutes your roommates rumble about how awful Val is, how much better Kate will be without her and how happy they are that she feels that way. Kate jumps in from time to time, smiling and telling them how right they are, and that's when you can't take it anymore. You start laughing, and it takes everybody off guard, to be honest it takes you off guard too. You don't explain anything to anybody as you stand up, take your hurt friend by her hand, and announce that you will be back in a couple of hours for dinner. You are much stronger than Kate, so manhandling her a little into her room is easy.

“Get dressed, put some training clothes on and take your wallet. I'm taking your car keys, and I'm waiting for you in the car park. Don't make me wait too long.”

“Y/n I’m fine! What are you even doing? I don't understand.” You hug her really close, face buried in your chest, her arms hanging loose on her sides not really knowing what to do with them, but even when she’s not reciprocating you don’t let her go. Your left hand goes all the way around her waist, grabbing her side, while the right hand keeps her head close to you. Your touch feels hungry for closeness with her, while you almost shield her whole body with yours. When you let go, you grab her face into your hands, look deeply into her glassy eyes and smile with the most honest love you ever felt to someone. This kind of love is different from anything else you ever had. You imagine that's the way your brother feels when he looks at you. At least he did when you were younger.

“You’re not Kate. And it's okay.” You kiss her forehead and tell her once again to get ready before you disappear from her room.

***

The ride to the location takes you around 25 minutes. The whole trip, Kate is trying to get you to tell her where you’re going or what this whole thing is about, but you keep your mouth shut, which makes her more irritated by the minute. It's good, you need her to be irritated, you need her to be mad, and soon enough everything will become clear to why.

You arrive at a big open space with one building that's in poor condition. Vines have taken over its walls, invading cement and binding everything together with nature. It’s a truly beautiful view if you can just stop for a second and try to understand what's in front of you. It's far, it's quiet, and it's your safe space, one of just the few that you have. You get out of the car, still not answering Kate's questions. She makes it harder for herself and as much as you get why she is doing it, you wish she would stop.

“What's that place? It looks like a squat.” She comments, and she sounds unnecessarily annoyed.

“This is a place where me and Shuri were meeting for most of the time. It's a safe place and a safe space.”

“Safe for what?”

“To be yourself.”

Your answer takes her a little bit off guard, you can see by the appearing wrinkles on her forehead that she really thinks about what you just said, and hopefully she will find some truth for herself in your words. She follows you into the building, you take out a bundle of keys, which is definitely too big, you don't even remember what half of them are for, you are pretty sure that some of them were found around here, never finding out their purpose, but the one that you need right now is easy to find. The red band on top of it makes it easy to spot. The word ‘’sanctuary’’ is hand-painted onto the key, and it fills you with warmth and gratitude that your last relationship ended up on good terms. You really appreciate having Shuri in your life, her and her family were nothing but good people to you, and you are glad to reciprocate anytime you can. You open a heavy looking lock and enter the building with Kate on your heels.

Inside it is really dark and scary looking, dust covers the floors, and various types of glass, wood and all kinds of materials can be found on the side of every wall. Used spray paint cans decorate one corner, making the whole place more alive because of their colours. They also create a nice contrast to the surrounding chaos. All cans are securely stacked in a pyramid shape. A skylight lights up the middle of the room in a theatrical way. You love this place to the bone.

As Kate looks around with a little disgust on her face she tries to appreciate you getting her out of the house, you collect some things from the locker and close it with a metallic clang.

“Here,” you say into her direction, getting closer to her with two jumpsuits in hand. She looks surprised, but gets the general idea of what you want from her. She is obliging even if she is not fully sure why you are both here, she’s too shaken up to put it all together. Putting on a brave face is one of her greatest strengths and weaknesses, but you know every little piece of her. At least most of them.

You start undressing while Kate is half ready with her suit on, you were always impressed with her physique. She’s the one who motivated you to go to the gym, taking you with her a couple of times gave you the kick-start that you needed to go on your own, you are grateful for that, not sure that she is aware of it. As you take off your shirt, you don't notice Kate's eyes lingering on your body. You are muscular it's hard not to be after putting so much work in at the gym, her eyes are tracing the tattoos on your body, from your legs up. You’re turned away from her, so she has a perfect view of your wide back. She isn’t sure why she’s staring, but it seems natural to do so, so she lets herself. As you turn around to face her, you zip up the suit to your waist, looking for a shirt you took with you. You don't want to ruin your nice clothes, that's why you asked Kate to pack something up herself as well. You look at her. She seems to be stuck for a moment, and her face is red.

“Are you okay?” You reach out to her, worried that she might be on the verge of crying because of her breakup, unaware that the reason for her state is completely different. Kate on the other hand is trying to understand what's happening to her. Nobody was ever as sweet to her as you, so protective and caring. Nobody held her like you do, nobody was interested in her in the way you are. In the beginning she was trying to figure out if that's your way of hitting on her, but after she got to know you a little bit she understood that it's just your nature. It didn't change the fact that she always feels special when you act protective over her or caring in any way. Late night texts telling her to get home safe, to remember about lunch, calling her love. Or just simply sitting down together and letting her talk while you listen. Just the way you let her be with you is enough to get some ideas in her head. She has been questioning for a long time now if she is attracted to you, but even if the answer is yes, your relationship has always been platonic, and she is aware of that.

“Yes, yes I am. Dress up, or you're going to get sick.” She stops the topic before you can ask her more questions, not wanting to fall into a hot mess in front of you.

After you both get dressed and leave your stuff secured in the locker, just in case, you take Kate's hand and tell her to follow you. Her palm is soft but cold to the touch, instinctively you start to rub her hand with your thumb to warm it up and comfort her a little, sensing her nervousness. She’s still playing with her hands, grabbing onto her jewellery and loose strands of fabric fraying off of the partially torn jumpsuit. Your touch seems to bring her a little bit more back into the present. You can hear her taking a big breath in when you soothe her hand, and it seems like her arms are starting to relax a little.

You moved further into the building, which leaves you in front of a massive, heavy looking reinforced door. Something straight out of the teen wolf series. As you open them, you are both hit with too much sunlight coming out of the skylights. Your eyes take a second to adjust and get past the sting of it, Kate tries to blink the pain away too. As soon as her vision is clear, she gets what all of this is about, and she doesn't know how to feel about it.

“Wha…what? Y/n I don't think it's necessary.” She comments as soon as she sees a table covered in lots of different kinds of mugs, plates, dishes, boxes and bottles. It's warmer here than anywhere else in the building, probably because of the sun coming through the windows. She understands now why the doors are so thick. She waits for your answer, but you leave her in silence. You move to the deep right corner of the room and grab two aluminium bats and two helmets secured in the covered box. Your weapon is strictly for looks, you are not going to participate in breaking today, this day is all about Kate and you need to focus on her.

“Take it.” She shakes her head, refusing to do so.

“Kate, take it, please.” She does see that you are being really serious about it. It feels heavy in her hands at first, but her muscle memory is trained on such a good level that it takes her just a minute to get used to the handle and balance of the bat.

“I don't need it. I know you think I'm sad and heartbroken but I'm not, okay? It's for the best and we both know it yn.” She pleads with you, it all seems really unnecessary for her.

“Kate..” you come close to her and put your free hand on her cheek. “ You are heartbroken, you are tired and you are sad, but most of all you are angry. I can see you holding your fist together every time someone mentions your mother.” Exactly the thing she does as soon as the words leave your mouth. “ I know that you feel betrayed by Val, it doesn't matter if you loved her or not. She abused you for so long, just as your mother. Dont hate me for it but I think you chose her for a reason.” She looks at you not believing your words, and takes a step back. Her eyes ask you what you mean by that and you know she felt a sting because of your assumption. You straighten out your posture and keep going, gambling your friendship in the name of her sanity.

“You have been controlled since your father died.”

“Stop.” Her voice is low but the tone of it is threatening.

“Your mother uses you as her personal project, to be honest I'm not sure if she was ever a real mother to you.” You continue not letting yourself back up no matter what. She needs this.

“I said stop.” Her voice is louder letting emotions take over a little.

“ Were you saying stop when Val hit you? Or when she was pouring alcohol in your system so she could take advantage of you? You didn’t deserve any of this” She is crying at this point and it pains you to see.

“All those times I was picking you up from her apartment seeing a new bruise on you, all those times when you got hell from your mother or from your girlfriend because you had to choose one and there were no other options in your life. This is not love Kate, it never was.”

“Nobody asked you to take care of me!!” She is screaming now and you decided to match her energy.

“BUT I DID! I was cleaning the fucking cuts, i was holding the ice bags and i had to watch you being broken everyday! I had to restrain myself of fucking her up everyday because of your feeling towards her!” Kate never knew about this, so that information is shocking, her head unfortunately for both of you took a defensive state so everything you say is taken personal. !!!

“ If that was such a fucking issue for you you could’ve just told me! I would never ask you for help if I knew!’ The bat in her hand is flying around, she always uses her hands while speaking so it's normal, in this situation though it's a little dangerous.

“It's not about me ! Its about you Kate, about people fucking you over and over again and you allowing them. It's about the fact that you are angry and you don't let yourself go!”

“I'M NOT ANGRY. I'M IN PAIN! AND THEY’VE PUT ME THERE” With that she delivers a first hit to the stack of plates. It's not in the center so plates end up falling from the table while breaking a couple of them. It's hard to aim when your face is covered in tears. You grab her arm before she can do a second strike stopping her mid flight. She tries to get out of your hold pushing you away with her other arm but you are one step ahead and you let go of your bat to grab both of her hands. You take her into a strong embrace letting her totally break down in tears. She cries, and it sounds like something she loved, someone she loves has died, maybe a part of her. Her voice is broken and you can hear her asking why, while you drop with her to the floor not letting go for even a second. She is still fighting to get out of your arms but you know that she is not fighting with you. You put your hand on her head closing any space left between you and you try to calm her crying a bit.

“I got you Kate… I'm right here with you, I'm not leaving…. ever. You can let go… just let go, I'm holding you.” And she does. She lets go of all the pain she feels at the moment, lots of memories coming back to her in a big feeling of chaos. It is hard for her to focus on one feeling, one problem, one pain so she grabs on to you tighter trying to ground herself in your touch. She starts paying attention to your fingers tracing patterns on her back, on your breathing being slow and deep and she tries to match it the best she can with her own. She focuses on the vibrations she can feel on her head that are coming from you humming her favorite melody. She finds peace in it and after a little while she slowly lets go of you to take a deep breath in and look at your face. You smile at her with the most genuine smile that she ever saw.

“Why are you so happy?” She is teasing you, you know she is.

“Because I'm proud of you Katie… so proud.” Your voice is low and soft, like the silence after the storm, like the moment when the rain stops falling abruptly after ripping the sky open with its force.

You help her stand up and that's the exact moment that she sees blood on your face. Her breath hitches while she points at your cheek. You touch the place and realize that while she hit the plates one piece of them got stuck in your skin. You take it out with almost no force and wipe already dried blood off of you.

“That's why we wear helmets.” You pick up the gear that was left on the floor, and help her put it safely on her head. After doing the same you hand her a bat and let her have an outlet for all of the forgotten feelings hidden inside of her for so long. Sounds are loud, rapid but so satisfying. Pieces of glass are landing on the walls, the floor and your clothing. At first she was shy with her hits, but you can see that she got more comfortable with the whole idea and actually put some work into it. You hold your cold bat in your left hand, it's only a prop, because today it's about Kate…. today is about Kate yn… You tell yourself trying to suppress any emotions you might have with this whole situation. Stacks of beer glasses seem to have your name written all over them. The bat you are holding gets a little bit heavier in your hand when you tighten your fist around it. Your veins become visible because of the pressure and your eyes are focused on the target, never looking away from it but holding yourself back as much as you can. Just when you start to feel yourself going into emotions, all of the glasses break in front of your eyes. A big hit delivered by Kate crashes them into pieces and powder, and with that she says that it's the last one that she needed. It brings you back out of your head and you nod at her, pointing to the door.

After leaving the room you give some time for Kate to change into her clothes while you are sweeping the floor to make it nice and tidy, mainly safe. You put down all the equipment and as you move into the room with a locker you can hear Kate humming the same melody you were trying to calm her down with. It warms you from the inside, the fact that you understand her and she trusts you enough to show you the most raw parts of herself. While you change Kate decided to look around some other rooms in the building. Some of them are holding more stuff to break, some of them have camping equipment, making her acknowledge that you probably spend some nights here. As you catch up to her you see that she found one of the most important places for you. The biggest room in this whole building has two chairs in the middle of it and 5 plastic boxes on the right side of it. Chairs are facing one wall, a wall covered in graffiti, with big sentences written in the middle of it. You lean on the entrance while Kate is trying to take it all in.

“What's that? Ver- Verba Vo…” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent. Spoken words fly away, written words remain.” You explain to her, trying to get her to understand what this place is about. “And what's all over that?” “All the reasons why me and Shuri were coming here. Tony Stark, Loki, work, even when I was arguing with you guys.” You laugh a little at the memory. “Even your mom.” You see her go closer to the wall as she eyes your mothers name written on the wall in the most chaotic way she ever saw. She puts her hand on the cold concrete and touches it lightly, collecting some dirt on her fingers by accident. She doesn't seem to care though. She turns with glossy eyes to look at you and a second later you are holding her in your arms. She is not angry anymore, but sad. Tears flow out while you hold her and allow her to feel all the emotions at once. She doesn't have to pretend with you, she never should. She lets you go and look at your face. Her cold hand lands on your cheek as she is trying to take care of you, leaving some of the dirt on your skin. It throws you off guard for a second because you didn't realize you were crying with her. As soon as you do you whip off the tears that escaped and hand her spray can from one of the plastic boxes.

“Write Katie, everything that's on your shoulders, write it out of you. It will stay here, and you will move on without it.” “Verba Volant Scripta Manent.” She repeats your mantra butchering latin pronunciation, making you laugh.

“Exactly.” You give her a nod and encourage her to start letting go of all the things that are in her heart. She is a little shy at first but gets a hold of it really quickly. She writes dates, names, words like work, comfort, cheating, fear. With each word she seems to be lighter and you enjoy the view. Carefully she writes everything down avoiding your drawing, your motto, which you really appreciate. As she finishes her work she takes a couple of steps back and enjoys the art of it. You join her, kiss the top of her head and take out of the box the last can, red one to put one last statement. She watches you really carefully as you go to her part of the wall and above everything she has written, you spray a big red word, saying “Rebirth”. As you turn around, a little bit dirty and tired, you feel happiness filling you in as she is smiling at you, in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

After closing up everything and making sure that the whole place is secured and tidy you make your way to the car. Kate is surprised to see an emotional hangover setup at the back of her car. Bottle of water, her favorite snack and tissues waiting for her, set down with love and care. It always amazes her how you can think in the future. There were countless situations in both your lifes when something unusual, tragic or just really out of nowhere came up and you are always ready for it. At least you seem to be. You are not talking much to each other while going back, no words needed between both of you. Kate can sense that it took a hold on you too so she provides comfort by playing with your hair on the back of your neck while you drive.

“I texted her.” Kates breaks the silence for a second, her voice barely above whisper.

“What did you say?”

“I broke up with her, I officially ended it, and I blocked her.” You put your hand on hers, letting her know you are right next to her. She expected you to be happy but you were always better for her then she anticipated.

“And how do you feel about it?” You ask tenderly.

“It hurts… I know she wasn't good, she never was, but she meant a lot and it… it just hurts.” You nod your head waiting for her to continue, giving all the space she might need.

“ But it's going to heal, and as much as it pains me I also feel lighter. I need it. Thank you yn, for everything.” She interviews her fingers with yours and allows silence to take over, leaving you both in each other's comfort.

Next chapter

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