#woooo go Sun

[shkika]

Does your UI feel bad about the whole Pebbles business?

And do you think Saint knows who SoS was?

She feels absolutely awful about it! She realizes she wasn't at fault for what happened, but she did make it worse for everyone involved. And so uh she's quite scared.

As for your second question..

yes saint does!! <3

part 2 (x)

[wolfcamellias]

how do you picture qpr shadowpeach? your ideas about them fascinate me

@blood-king asked: *cough* So uh, completely unprompted totally didnt see a post or anything; How would QPR shadowpeach work? (Also /gen question cause ur thoughts on them are always interesting lol)

WELL! I’m so glad you asked! Bare with me that I’m working with canon material and even then I have to take into consideration that S4 might erase all of this and produce something different for ShadowPeach  ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 

[insert “no fear” / “one fear” meme redraw here]

BUT! Anyways! Let’s look deeper into these freaks now shall we 

First let’s dissect everything we got thus far on Sun Wukong and Macaque’s canon dynamic before diving into the QPR aspect of it all 

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

Season One 

I want everyone to remember that besides the iconic line of “You are such a gem” has more meaning behind it than we realize. We don’t have much to work with in terms of Season One material and at this base level we can consider the fact that it was.. Just a crackship by this point, they only have one brief interaction and Macaque was never seen again. During that moment we can see that Sun Wukong and Macaque are treated to be “equals” in this instance solely because Macaque was able to absorb Xiaotian’s powers and render him immobile for a while. In this instance we can see that Macaque was copying Sun Wukong’s moves aside from the shadow clone-summonings and the Shadow Puppet creation. 

This implies Macaque was well adept into mimicking Sun Wukong that he was capable of copying all of his moves without pause and heart beat but also managed to “outwit” Sun Wukong by using the fact that he cares about Xiaotian as a stepping stone and tries to get the upper hand constantly on him during the fight. 

“Wukong! How ya doin’ bud? [Scoffs]” “Aren’t you ever going to get sick of living in my shadow?”

“Oh god is Rhy going to psychoanalyz—” yes now sit down. 

Macaque’s tone is mocking all the way during this small exchange, even mocking Wukong’s “bud” that he uses to address Xiaotian, attempting to edge him on and get him to engage with him. Right from the start he’s trying to instigate him, he wants Wukong to react in a way that’ll lead to a fight, that will cause some wreckage, he wants Sun Wukong to see him and think “I want to engage with this person for the rest of my life, I can’t stop thinking about him” when in truth Macaque is the one chasing Wukong’s attention constantly.

Sun Wukong’s tone is something I’ve analyzed once, twice, several times before. Wukong’s tone here is stressed and non-intimidating—he’s more disappointed than you realize. Sun Wukong witnessed Xiaotian’s personality change to someone who snaps back at him, tells him he’s been training with someone who’s actually teaching him when Sun Wukong knows Xiaotian’s mortal and has his limits. Had Xiaotian gotten incredibly hurt, his reaction to Macaque’s mocking would have been worse. Because Wukong does not instigate fights. He doesn’t try to play into the bait that Macaque leaves him, he asks him if he’s tired of repeating this cycle. It’s true, it is a cycle and we see it throughout most of their relationship: Sun Wukong takes a step back and Macaque takes two steps forward. He’s the one keeping Macaque at a distance.

And something that’s very interesting when it comes to Wukong’s word choice: he says, ‘living in my shadow’. Which is interesting! It implies that Sun Wukong does not want Macaque to be in his shadow. He does not want Macaque around let alone being his shadow—he wants him to step out of it. It’s interesting to see that Sun Wukong does not seem to think he was the one who put Macaque in his shadow — it’s interesting to see.

“It’s time to give back what you stole.”

Again, Wukong gets straight to the point: “You hurt my successor, a mortal, and I can tell you’re not going to talk through this so I’ll resort to your level.”

But he also does not engage Macaque immediately. Only does so when Macaque continues and says this:

“You are such a gem. It's going to be so satisfying, killing you with your own powers.”

Did you know that in JTTW Macaque was mirroring all of Sun Wukong’s powers? He was basically an exact replica in that moment and thus it resulted in a stalemate for a long time?

Macaque is A) admitting here that he’s using Sun Wukong’s own strength against him thus making him his equal in that instant, more so with the fact Sun Wukong is canonically holding back at this point, meaning Macaque’s frustration with him later makes sense because he knows Sun Wukong is holding back—he just doesn’t know by how much and B) he’s once again instigating Wukong by calling him a gem, something he only does once throughout the show before he switches to other forms of taunting. 

Sun Wukong is a stone monkey, he was born from a rock. He was treated as more of a piece of coal throughout the entirety of the Journey by both Heaven and his pilgrim brothers and even his master at times (not to say that’s the exact way the Pilgrims and Tripitaka act in the show but I digress) and to call him a gem.. Is purely amusing considering how he then proceeds to say Sun Wukong was gifted with all of his abilities and powers in the following season. He’s not complimenting him—and even if he was, it probably lost its value in the moment, considering the situation they were in.

“Seriously? You fell for that?”

Macaque instigating Sun Wukong and further trying to get him to get angry and stoop down to his level? More likely than you think.

“Come on. Show me the real Sun Wukong. The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me, but you're scared of hurting some kid? Pathetic.”

Macaque proceeds to try and urge Wukong to go back to being his old self, he wants Wukong to be that reckless, capricious, overpowered guy whom he (for lack of better platonic based term) fell in love with in terms of admiration and, amusingly, it’s also something he clings on to because that’s a recurring theme with Macaque: being stuck in the past.

Sun Wukong is not reacting how he wants him to and that’s what irritates him the most. He wants them to go back to their past and that’s the unhealthy aspect of him: he doesn’t realize people can change for better or worse—or, at the very least, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it with the way he witnesses Sun Wukong protect Xiaotian and worry over him more than he pays attention to Macaque himself. He doesn’t want to believe Sun Wukong’s changed as a person and that he  needs to change before they can make anything work.

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

Season Two

Sun Wukong is absent throughout most of this Season due to his quest to find a weapon to fight against LBD and then the subtle timeskip of Heaven’s days and Earth’s years working a little funky. 

Of course then we dip our feet into the very shallow pool that is Macaque’s view of how Sun Wukong’s character works despite not having had a proper conversation with him over the past five hundred years or so. 

“The hero and the warrior were like the Sun and the Moon. Their light, a protective glow, shining upon the world. Together, there was nothing that could stop the two of them. Either in the Celestial Realms or on Earth. As time went on, the hero attained power beyond comprehension. As the hero's light grew, so too did his shadow. And soon, the warrior was cast in that shadow. In the darkness, the warrior was forgotten by the hero.”

Shoutout to Lego Monkie Kid for being able to write biased narratives throughout the show. 

Macaque’s word choices are interesting: he’s glorifying the past (again) and putting the Hero (Wukong) on a high pedestal and repeating he was abandoned and forgotten and cast in the shadows. The interesting point is noting that Macaque is a strongly biased narrator, he views Sun Wukong as lesser than him and wants him to come down to his level of petty words and constant fighting when Sun Wukong does not react nor chase him around. And something to note about Sun Wukong is that he values and cares genuinely and strongly for his friends; to say that Sun Wukong purposefully put Macaque in his shadow is a stretch.

The theory that Sun Wukong told Macaque to stay behind while he went to the war against Heaven (thus fighting with Nezha, Muzha and Erlang) led to Macaque taking it as ‘you are weak and can’t follow me’, twisting Wukong’s words and his perception of him is the most likely theory taking into consideration how LBD was confirmed to have messed with Macaque’s memories and that Macaque later states that Sun Wukong didn’t work hard for his powers.

Unless Lego Monkie Kid rewrote the starting chapters of Journey To The West where Sun Wukong spends years training for his immortality, several more reigning over his kingdom and then the inevitable trauma and imprisonment? Sun Wukong worked very hard for his position, regardless of whether or not he was cocky or gained a high ego over it, and Macaque just turns away from the truth and only sees what he wants to see.

We don’t talk about the fact that he proceeded to project onto Xiaotian and said he did not have abandonment issues and that he forgot about the friends that Macaque himself kidnapped. 

And of course we get the moment where Macaque gets a flashback of Sun Wukong punching him, correlating to the somewhat confirmed theory that Sun Wukong murdered Macaque during a certain point in the JTTW arc of the show.

And then it’s not addressed again until Season Three.

Season Three

(I’ve typed Macaque 37 times and Wukong 48 times and idk how to feel about that)

Sun Wukong is emotionally and mentally and physically drained the moment we see him back at the start of the Season. He’s focused on securing the map and gaining the Samadhi Fire for the chance of defeating Lady Bone Demon and Macaque on the other hand, as we can see in the flashback that occurs later in the season, was leashed and held with a dagger to his neck when moving closer to Wukong.

Macaque and Sun Wukong’s banter is.. a singular moment where he allows himself to fall into Macaque’s cycle. “Always the comedian,” implies Macaque is well aware that Wukong is masking his tone and overall stability to show he’s holding himself together when in truth he very much isn’t. Wukong continues to taunt Macaque because this is what he wanted, he wanted a true reaction out of him — to which I mean, he wants Wukong to react in a negative sense, he wants them to fight, he wants to instigate fights with him because that in itself is a distraction from talking about their past. 

Wukong avoids Macaque and even warns everyone about him, tries to keep Macaque away from Xiaotian and the others as much as possible to the point of making himself bait for the sake of them getting away during the train station scene. 

Genuinely, Sun Wukong saw Macaque as someone dangerous to Xiaotian due to the trauma that Macaque gave him during his introduction episode where he threatened to kill Xiaotian for the sake of getting to Wukong.

And that’s not without discussing the fact that Wukong was able to make Macaque freeze at the change of tone. During the ice scene with Nezha, Wukong tries to instigate a sort of scuffle with Macaque this time, repeating the same tone and mask he used back during the airship fight. Because he wants him to fall back into that little cycle of theirs that Macaque was constantly chasing.

What he didn’t account for was Macaque not following the same path he usually does. The reason behind Wukong’s anger when he reaches to choke Macaque isn’t just because he started the ritual: he didn’t listen to Wukong (again), he tried to shift his blame onto Wukong, he hurt Xiaotian, he threatened Xiaojiao, and pushed Tang into starting the ritual. And, yes, Wukong was watching all of it despite not knowing what it is they were saying, but he is very much aware of Macaque’s actions when he went after them clawing for survival.

It’s also important to remember that it’s heavily implied both Sun Wukong and Macaque must have done something to cause their relationship to become so estranged. Because Macaque is the one who leaves this time, Macaque is the one who tried to get away from this situation, Macaque is the one who tries to escape and that’s what ticks Wukong off further. 

Because Macaque is a coward and that’s something he needs to work on excessively. 

Yes, there is the looking back scene, there is the moment where Macaque and Wukong look at each other in the Samadhi Fire episode but just because they took one step does not mean they’ve finished climbing up the ladder to mending their relationship. 

However.

Sun Wukong was still holding back during his fight with Macaque.

Because despite this intense power imbalance, despite the fact Sun Wukong was possessed, he was still conscious, he was still aware of his actions. Knowing how roughed up he managed to get Macaque it's only safe to assume he was choosing to hold back in an attempt to delay the end result of the fight.

And afterwards we get a cleaner conclusion: they put their differences aside to help Xiaotian and end their last interaction with Macaque falling back into edging Wukong on and ignoring his actions throughout the Season and calling him selfish—as harsh as it may sound, he’s not yet accepting the fact Sun Wukong has changed and thus Sun Wukong will not consider him as someone he can be comfortable around or someone worth having an actual conversation with. 

See: When talking to Xiaotian he drops the masks (slightly) and admits he has never had a proper successor before nor has he ever been a mentor. Even when Xiaotian reveals he plays dumb to lighten the mood, Sun Wukong just laughs and brings him closer rather than pushing him away. He does not do that with Macaque because he doesn’t even consider him someone worth trying for.

---------

“Break Up” Stage

“But how would they work?”

They need to separate first.

Sun Wukong and Macaque require a lengthy break from each other, both without mentioning or seeing the other let alone engaging them because the chances of them actually communicating is slim to none. They need to work on themselves and separate to work on their individual trauma before they can even begin to discuss their own issues.

Sun Wukong is closed off and Macaque is self-centered in the way that, Wukong does not address his trauma and even then plays it off as a joke while Macaque makes his own personal issues seem more important or drastic than others (whether intentionally or not).

Macaque is also heavily focused on Wukong while Wukong can easily look away from Macaque lest the latter mocks or taunts him.  They need to be away from each other for a while before even beginning to take those steps towards friendship.

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

Things they need to work on first

Sun Wukong needs to work on his communication skills, emotional and mental stability, learn how to make healthy coping habits for his trauma and actually talk to someone about his trauma. He bottles everything up and then often uses himself as bait/a shield for everyone (especially Xiaotian) and that’s taking a toll on him. He even openly declares he’s going to sacrifice himself when asked what his plan was about the fire and then immediately joked about it to numb it down. 

He constantly lets others snap at him without defending himself not because he can’t but because of trauma when speaking out towards others if they stick by JTTW lore (when contradicting Tripitaka’s actions, he would be punished with the tightening spell, etc.). He needs to get better at this before even beginning the idea of rekindling a friendship that must have heavily hurt him enough for him to not want to engage with the other party again. 

Macaque needs to work on his emotional and mental stability, learn not to trauma dump onto others, learn to let go and learn that his actions heavily affect others. He berates Wukong for seemingly “making things worse for Xiaotian” and then proceeds to hurt, manipulate and traumatize him and his friends. 

He gets away with it and that’s something that.. should not have happened? His actions throughout the series have consisted of kidnapping and borderline traumatizing a stranger to him who looked up to him and then proceeded to ask if he missed him. He’s mocking him, he’s mocking everyone and Wukong is not exempt from this.

Macaque needs to work on learning how to engage without seeing things through his own bias-tinted lenses and realize there are other people around him who are suffering from his actions and that being traumatized is not an excuse to be a shitty person to others.

Otherwise, the entire relationship could be toxic.

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

Things that could work with them

Sun Wukong opening up to Macaque about why he doesn’t engage with him 

Macaque calling out Wukong on his past actions in a way that isn’t meant to be seen as an attack

Sun Wukong and Macaque (after being separated) finding each other when they’re in healthier environments and talking/discussing their past and how they can move forward together

Macaque apologizing to Wukong first

Macaque realizing Sun Wukong is traumatized from the Journey

Wukong realizing why Macaque chases after him so much and setting aside boundaries so they can engage without it becoming overwhelming

Sun Wukong and Macaque addressing the fact they’ve both hurt each other and realizing it can’t work unless they both put an effort into it

Macaque being Wukong’s shoulder to lean on; Wukong being the one to call Macaque out when he pushes things too far

A normal non-romantic involved QPR or friendship

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

Things to consider

The reason why a QPR works so well with Sun Wukong and Macaque is a bit simple but also complicated: 

Sun Wukong throughout the course of Journey to the West and all its past and future iterations have always had him be uninterested in both men and women. There are multiple instances where he’s capable of courting women and he instead backs away or does not pay it any mind; aside from this he’s heavily implied to only care about familial love and friendships. He does not see his pilgrim brothers as anything more than family and he views Tripitaka as a mentor rather than someone whom he was chained to (coughs). 

Sun Wukong is always been heavily coded to be on the aro or ace spectrum in media and Lego Monkie Kid focuses more on the platonic aspect of relationships and Sun Wukong being in a Queer-Platonic Relationship would be more impacting than a regular romantic one. He does not understand normal human customs being a monkey and all and creating a type of relationship that’s unique to him and Macaque alone would be far more comfortable to him than to have a relationship that follows rules.

Macaque also has shown no signs of romantic attraction towards any of the cast and, considering the idea that they continue this fact, him being on the aro or ace spectrum would also be an incredible move on their part. Not only because he’s meant to represent the other side of Wukong’s metaphorical coin but because it’d be the first canon aro or ace villain character thus far in a kids’ show.

This and the fact that— both Sun Wukong and Macaque are over a thousand years old. Why on earth would they have a normal type of relationship? Giving them a checklist of what passes on as romantic and platonic when to them the line is so blurred it’s barely existent to them is amusing. 

Sun Wukong and Macaque having their own weird relationship where it changes from frustrated best friends to partners to angry middle aged demons to the tired traumatized immortals who sometimes cuddle while marathoning weird stupid comedies or tragedies on netflix is much more appealing than the average type of relationship media often portrays. Having Sun Wukong and Macaque see each other as equals on all known terms is interesting and good.

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

Differences in giving and receiving affection (HC on Macaque’s part)

This one is a tad short considering how little we have on the matter but both monkeys resort to verbal praise — however there is a big difference in this.

Sun Wukong’s love language is acts of service (Journey), verbal reassurance, touch and familiarity with one’s actions and quirks. 

Macaque’s… are genuinely unknown seeing as his verbal praise is just a manipulation tactic but it’s somewhat twistable into something more.. Genuine if you take into account how he could just as easily turn Wukong’s words against himself when he spares Macaque a compliment.

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

Final Message

This took me way longer than it should have.

Buy My Silence.

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Assuming that I'm probably going to start my period soon because everything feels empty and hopeless and I wanna be dead more than usual

[newts-and-sharks]

i want to sleep but why sleep when i can look at stuff

[silverware-drawer]

What the hell is a "cue es em pee"

0 notas

🦈 kocwillrock 🔁 philza

🏳️‍⚧️ wanna-flippa Seguir

MY& P4PA: WH@T D0' #)W3 S4Y WHE;N WE SE3 TH*E H@TER5??,?(

$M'E: D1$LIK€ 4ND #-_UNS+UBSCR/_1BE

M#Y PAP@:; # HEL,L YE4,H!;!!!$!!

*.*W3 BOT,H,, B@CKF''L1P 4WA_-Y"__*+&

🪹 philza

@backflipo-numero-uno please stop impersonating your dead daughter on fucking tumblr and get therapy

🦠 backflipo-numero-uno Seguir

NO LISTEN ITS REALLY HER THIS TIME I SWEAR

🪹 philza

I'm reporting you for your own good m8

🪹 philza

and also because you don't tag the months-old interactions with mariana you keep reblogging and I don't wanna see that shit on my dash lmao

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

damn slime your dead daughter knows how to write a banger post

1,010 notas

💣 federation-sanitation-unofficial 🔁 im-the-orb-theyre-always-pondering

💣 2b-or-not-2b

Finally finished the enchants on my scythe. Going to test this shit on a dungeon run will update

⚠️ pactriggerwarning Seguir

you can come over and test it on me instead if i'm closer. like not in a weird way you can just hit me and I'll tell you how close I am to dying, how much blood I've lost etc

💣 im-the-orb-theyre-always-pondering

fuck okay- pac I've been meaning to talk to you about this. Listen.

💣 federation-sanitation-unofficial

you have. . . tendencies

4 notas

🔎 cellbo 🔁 peterparkoier

⚪ qsmp-census-bureau ☑️ Seguir

I hope you enjoy the island.

cellbit-deactivated19358

FUCK YOU

🐦 its-nice-to-miku Seguir

wait cellbit is this why your old blog got deleted lmao???

🔎 cellbo

shut up

🔎 cellbo

I hear you typing guapito don't you fucking dare

🥵 peterparkoier Seguir

NO MAMES

🔎 cellbo

GOD DAMN IT

201 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 bagi-the-vegan

🌸 bagi-the-vegan

this island is so weird why did people seriously consider the disgusting green egg as a presidential candidate

🌸 bagi-the-vegan

Nevermind gegg is my son now

692 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

what we need is not government it is true union between the people

121.193 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

yo soy brazil. nosotros somos brazil. We Are Gegg.

992 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

the sun is a false god but a true threat

238.816 notas

🌸 bagi-the-vegan 🔁 gegg

🇧🇷 gegg Seguir

gegg

- gegg

1.1 millón notas

🪹 philza 🔁 philza

⚪ qsmp-census-bureau Seguir

I hope you enjoy the island.

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

etoiles-deactivated2884

dark metal when

elotes-deactivated1191866

dark metal when

elotes-deactivated1191866

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elotes-deactivated1191866

dark metal when

etwall-deactivated92701

dark metal when

etwall-deactivated92701

dark metal when

🔰 etoyless

guys I cant believe it they are introducing dark metal soon its not a lie the admins really said so because otherwise it means they hate me GG woooo good fight i dont have to cry anymore!! well played!!

🪹 philza

etoiles you are going to get banned again stop provoking the feds

🔰 etoyless

you are right philza because you are the best ok i am never going to spam them again

🪹 philza

Good job I'm proud of you GGs

🪹 philza

ETOILES

69 notas

🔰 etoyless 🔁 etoyless

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

🔰 etoyless

@01101110011101010110110001101100 FIGHT ME

[dhampling]

ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath. 

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers. 

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it. 

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds. 

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane. 

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion. 

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core. 

Your love. Your lover. 

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will  - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed. 

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has. 

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp. 

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment. 

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?” 

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. 

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.” 

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

-

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today. 

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together. 

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes. 

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.  

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing. 

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.” 

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes? 

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him. 

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them. 

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire- 

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?” 

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint. 

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him. 

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed. 

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?” 

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations. 

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

-

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour. 

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim. 

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed. 

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets. 

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be. 

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you. 

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades. 

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high. 

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust. 

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil. 

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles  at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony. 

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this. 

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t. 

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms. 

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist. 

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.” 

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.” 

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.” 

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.” 

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more. 

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.” 

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue. 

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.” 

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too. 

“You visit here a lot?” 

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.” 

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.” 

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.” 

And he does. 

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen. 

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah. 

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos. 

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?” 

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.” 

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.” 

“Tell me about it.” you grin. 

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.” 

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back. 

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand. 

He’s looking at something. 

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar. 

Shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

“Joel?”  Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?” 

You already know the answer. 

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares. 

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?” 

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.” 

“You look good.” 

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.” 

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you. 

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.” 

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?” 

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head. 

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?” 

“See what?” 

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent. 

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.” 

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?” 

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin. 

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.” 

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin. 

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of  Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified. 

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath. 

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.” 

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants. 

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.  

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender. 

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations. 

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.” 

Your ears ring 

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted. 

You love doing what he asks of you. 

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over. 

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?” 

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling. 

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you. 

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.” 

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes. 

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.” 

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it. 

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.” 

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks. 

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss. 

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach. 

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.” 

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.” 

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck. 

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.” 

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.” 

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks. 

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.” 

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—” 

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.” 

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?” 

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.” 

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be. 

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.” 

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.” 

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.” 

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be. 

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it. 

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung. 

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy’s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together. 

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact. 

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead. 

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.” 

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking. 

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?” 

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.” 

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy. 

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!” 

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile. 

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you. 

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.  

“What is?” you ask. 

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.” 

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything. 

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?” 

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling. 

Tommy smells gunpowder. 

He hears bullets whizzing through the air. 

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout. 

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah. 

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.” 

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled. 

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own. 

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again. 

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.” 

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.” 

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.” 

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!" 

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?” 

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him. 

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.” 

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?” 

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better. 

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles. 

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone. 

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.” 

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek. 

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.” 

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door. 

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.” 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.” 

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks. 

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.” 

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned. 

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.” 

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.” 

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.” 

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.” 

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.” 

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist. 

A kiss on the back of your neck. 

“Call me if you need anythin’.” 

“I will.” 

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder. 

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it. 

The walk to your home is a silent one. 

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.” 

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?” 

“Nah. Let’s just talk.” 

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips. 

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.” 

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.” 

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.” 

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it? 

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?” 

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.” 

You wait for him to continue. 

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.” 

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.” 

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather. 

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange. 

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.” 

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest. 

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.” 

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him. 

You lick your lips, your mouth  dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve. 

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate. 

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s. 

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.” 

“But—” 

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.” 

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before. 

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.” 

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t. 

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say? 

“Yeah?” 

You can’t do it. Coward. 

“Do you need. . . another pillow?” 

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?” 

“It is.” 

It isn’t. 

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

[x-candy-guts-x]

Yautja x reader

Part two

Woooo another one baby

Again I suck ass at writing so this is gonna be yet another bucket of paint thrown at a wall and just hope to god it comes out coherent

OK ANYWAY

• you were originally abducted by another alien race. It started out just living your life going to work and coming home rinse, wash and repeat. But you started getting weird little signs that something wasn’t normal. Weird feelings in your head that turned into dizziness that lead to a particularly aggressive fainting spell in your own home.

• you woke up in a metal room. At first you were scared you had been drugged and kidnapped- not far from the truth but you thought it had at worst been traffickers not whatever the hell that thing was staring at you through the glass like door. It was slender small and gray with big eyes.

•you found out that they weren’t actually hostile and just wanted some info on you and some dna. They said they would bring you back home once they were done. But the universe had other plans. The ship was attacked and you among a few of the crew were taken hostage and thrown into cages. You had collars fashioned around your necks and were treated like pets. Or product.

•the ship landed on a strange planet with two suns. It felt arid but off behind the ship was a massive rainforest like place. And in front in a small distance was a city.

•taken into the city you were all being sold off. You tried to fight against the chain and you even bit the giant armored lizard fuck who dared to grab your chin to get a closer look. The kinder aliens who took you to begin with had give you a translator behind your ear. You were able to figure some things out. Like their species; the yautja and the planet.

•you were the last one who had yet to be sold. One yautja in particular came up and asked about you. He was about 7ft, leaner and had darker tones in his scales. Mostly muddied grays and black. The seller went and took off the chain. You still had the collar like mechanism however. As soon as he did you ran. You dodged between people and headed to the forest. They had tried to chase you down and even activated the collars shocking abilities but you kept going. Even after blood ran down your torso from the electric prongs digging into you.

It had been about a day and a half before you made it to an area that looked like a small calm village. There were some homes in the trees and some on the clearing. A cool river that ran maybe a hundred meters or so off to the side. And just up the hill past that river was a small cave. You didn’t know if these people were kind or trust worthy so you didn’t approach. Instead opting to stay in the cave. You fashioned yourself a blade with a very sharp obsidian like black stone, some wood for the handle and a vine to keep it together.

•it did okay. You were able to get small things down on the ground and even found a potato like root you could cook up and eat. The fires you made to cook needed to be small though. You didn’t want to alert anyone that you were there. Although you had a suspicion that they already knew.

•you took up wood carving to pass the time, making animals from your home planet. You went down to the river once and forgot your carving of a deer. When you went to retrieve it, a little yautja had already gotten to it and was inspecting it. It made a rapid little clicky noise and ran back to the village with what looked like excitement. Scared you ran back to your cave.

•unbeknownst to you there was a popular fairytale in the village. They told stories of humans to scare the little ones into behaving at night. And when the little one found the deer carving it certainly made the stories seem more vibrant. The kids made rumors about a big bad scary ooman in the forest. You- would sometimes sit behind rocks/trees and carve away while listening to them.

•they had concluded that the creature was a deer thanks to their parents. Buuut their imaginations went wild. Deer were now giant carnivores who impaled victims on their antlers and wore the corpses like rotting trophies. You giggled at that one. But suddenly everything went silent. Peeking between the two large stones that concealed you the oldest of the young ones was pointing in your direction. You abandoned your carving and very quickly but still quietly headed back to your cave.

•the found your carving. This time it was a fruit bat. Fruit bats can get pretty big on earth. Some with wing spans up to five feet! But they were so cute. They loved fruit and looked like puppies in your eyes. But the kids had once again made wild tales. Tales of giant fire breathing monsters. “Huh..” you sort of muttered under your breath. That one is actually pretty close to home. Not literally but it made you think about the tales of dragons on earth and how maybeeee that’s partially how they got started.

•you started leaving carvings more often. It made you happy to see them play with them and come up with fantastical tales. You would hide and carve and listen as they played. What you didn’t know was high up in the trees above you, was a certain masked individual watching your every move.

•your collar had been outfitted with a tracker. And it was just chance that you went right to the village the one who sought to buy you lived at. When you made it to the tree line they decided to not bother with the chasing. He paid and decided to hunt you. Maybe not kill you but he enjoyed the idea of toying with you. But once he saw you carving he stepped back. He watched. And he watched the children. He watched longer than he intended too.

•a month of this went by. The children now had maybe ten of your little carvings. All of different animals. Deer, bats, dogs, cats, horses, rams, weasels, giraffes, and all sorts. You were currently carving a T-Rex. You were in your cave carving it due to the heavy rain. Wondering where you should leave it for them to find you settled on the same place as the last two, perched on a big roundish but flat stone that was right on shore and in the middle of plain site. You figured you’d just leave it there again. When you placed it on the stone off to your left you heard a little shreek. The Rain was no more than a fine mist but rhe river water was sweeping away the little one. It wasn’t too strong but the rain didn’t help when it made the river just a bit deeper. You ran after the little one and dove in.

•Bringing the small but heavy child back to shore you sat him down. He was fine but startled. Wether it was from the river or you- the mysterious human in the hill everyone jokes about was anyones guess. When he just continued to ogle at you in silence you sighed. Being back and next to the stone you left the dinosaur on you picked it up and handed it to him. Then, hearing a noise in the tree line- you assumed it was his parents and bolted up the hill back to your cave.

•a couple days later you were awoken to some noises outside the cave. Afraid you grabbed your knife and jumped out. The poor little yautja that caused the commotion stumbled back and landed on his butt. Dropping the knife you squatted down to help him. He reached his chubby little hands out. In them was a little basket of fruit :)

•you were tired. So tired. Turns out whatever that fruit was made you extremely sleepy. So, after the little yautja left and the fruit was eaten you decided to take a nap. When you woke up it was dark. You felt around and concluded you were in a pile of furs. Wait- why was it so comfortable? The things you got to make your bed had been crude and hard, soft enough to sleep but not comfort. This was soft and plush. Sitting up quickly you realized you weren’t in your cave anymore.

Looking out the window, you were in the village. Oh boy.

Should I continue this? Is it baD

Please tell me how I could improve this I haven’t written anything since I was like 14 and making fuckin edgy ass creepypasta x reader fanfics on quiz quotev lmAO

[anemptypuddingcup]

Cheater!? I think not!

400+ special! The winning character from the poll for this fic is Law! WOOOO!-

For those who were hoping for Luffy (I gotchu) don’t worry because there will be a Luffy fic out later today or tomorrow. (Both fics are going to have the prompt of best friends with benefits in the summer)

Contains; slight angst to fluffy sex. a sweet and loyal reader. A bit of an obsessive Law. Law suspects cheating from reader. (Most likely with Luffy) Law and reader ain’t even together. (I think he’s just afraid of being “thrown away”). Jealousy from Law. Best friends w/ benefits to lovers. Why is Law crying in this fic? Law being a bit sensitive. (My poor baby..) Masturbation. Slight use of toys. Law being a damn perv. Soft sex. Praise. Reader riding Law. Switching positions? Law and Reader are probably switches. Reader and Law get together in the end.

The sun was setting and the sky was a beautiful hue of orange in the slight summer heat. Law was sitting there on the beach chair while he inhaled the salty sea air. While he was resting in the warm summer air, he hears Luffy and immediately groans in anger. You were hanging out with him again, he could tell by how Luffy was laughing. You both were having a really good time, but why couldn’t you do the same for him? He understood he could be busy but not that busy, right. Then again, you were besties with benefits, meaning it probably wasn’t the same as it was with Luffy.

“AHAHAH! STOP IT GIRLIE! YA KILLIN’ ME!” Luffy’s laughs could be heard across the entirety of the beach as you whispered jokes into Luffy’s ear to see how he would react. His happy little laughter always spark up something in your heart that made you happy. “TELL ANOTHER ONE! TELL ANOTHER ONE!” He urged you as he bounces up and down. “Hehe okay okay! Why did the cookie go to the doctor?” You asked him. “Why why? Why did it go to the doctor?” He asked eagerly. You moved in close to his ear and whispered the answer to him, trying your best not to snicker from your own little joke. “Because it was feeling crummy.” You snickered before full on laughing with Luffy. You had to admit that the jokes were bad and childish yet that’s what made them so funny. Not mention with how goofy Luffy was. Luffy wipes a few tears away before finally taking a deep breath to relax.

“Oh man, you’re jokes r’so funny t’me! I wish you could tell more!” Luffy smiled before hugging you tightly. You blushed deeply and hugged him back before patting his head. “Aww I wish I could too Luffy. It’s getting late though..” You said upsettingly. Luffy smiles and hold your hands softly. “Ahh it’s alright! We have all day tomorrow!” He says to you reassuringly. You nod happily before standing up and walking away from Luffy, now ready to go back with Law into the nice hotel resort you all were staying at for the week. “Bye ________! See ya tomorrow!” Luffy smiled brightly before walking off in the back to the rest of his crew. A sweet smile spreads across your face before you end up bumping into Law who was standing there with his arms crossed.

“Had fun with Mugiwara-Ya?” He asked as he glared down at you. You smile and nodded happily, unintentionally making him even more pissed than he already was. “Hell yeah! He’s a good bundle of energy, and he’s enjoyable to be around.” You says before laughing to yourself. Law huffs and looks away from you out of anger. “I guess when I get back to my room I’ll take a shower and go to bed.” You sighed. “So we aren’t..” He doesn’t imply but you immediately knew what he was asking you. “Well…do you want to?” You asked, raising a brow to him. He shakes his head and turns away from you once again. “Nah I was just asking.” He lied. You shrugged and you both continued walking down the sandy beach until you both make it back to the hotel and go up to your room. “I’m goin to take a shower before I go to bed then, kay?” You tell Law before taking the elevator up to the second floor of your room. Law sighs and decided to take the stairs to take a moment to think to himself.

He doesn’t know what goes on through your mind but he knew damn well that you didn’t like Luffy, at least he hoped you didn’t. As much as you dedicated your loyalty to your so-called relationship, he definitely knew that you would’ve told him about everything about how you felt for someone else and off it as soon as you did. Even though you didn’t do that, who’s to say that you wouldn’t do it at all one day. And sadly that was the only thing that stabbed at Law. Sure you both weren’t together but it felt so…he didn’t know how to explain it. Let’s just say it felt wonderful to him and he even wondered why he didn’t just ask you out instead of agreeing to do this with him.

Finally reaching the top of the second stairs, he rushes to your room and pulls out a second key that you gave him. Slowly unlocking the door and opening it he immediately hears the shower running in the bathroom, making him conclude that you were already in the shower. He sighs and cursed himself for what he was about to do before quickly making way into your closet. Closing the doors quickly, could peek through and see the steam running out of the bathroom door and he suddenly hears the shower shut off. Your humming is heard along with you grabbing a towel and Law slowly begins to breathe heavily before covering his mouth. You yawn before finally opening the shower door, coming out with a fluffy robe.

You stretch before climbing into bed, your body sinking deep into the mattress. You sigh to yourself and look around for you little bag that carried your hygienic stuff and…your toy. “Maybe I should’ve went with Law…I didn’t think about it until now…M’so horny…” You sighed as you rummaged around in your bag before finally finding your dildo and pulling it out of your bag. It was a perfectly clean and new one, it haven’t been used since you’ve been with Law all this time. Before bothering with the toy, you settles on groping and touching yourself. Your hands fondled with your breast while your fingers pinched at your nipples. A little gasp leaves your pretty lips as you slide two fingers along your tongue. You run your fingers along your slit before slowly plunging them through your entrance and a moan leaves you.

You lie back against your fluffy pillows as you slowly pump your fingers deep into your cunt. You whimpered as you felt like your fingers weren’t enough for you at all. You took your off the nightstand and trail your tongue over it before sucking on it slight. A string of saliva leaves your lips as you pull the toy from your mouth. You slowly push it inside of you and a moan leaves you as you pumped it in and out of your cunt. Law was sitting watching everything, trying his best to stay quiet while he tried to stroke himself through his briefs. A gasp unconsciously leaves his lips, catching you off guard and making you stop. You stayed silent to listen and smile as you finally hear his gasp once again, followed by a groan. “Come on out Law.” You urge him making him jolt as you called out for him.

He groans as he slowly stands up before opening the closet doors, his shorts and briefs were halfway down his legs and his cock was perked up in the air, close to hitting his stomach. “How’d you know it was me?” He asked, breathing a bit heavily. You giggle and moan as you slowly pulled the toy out of your cunt and setting it to the side. “We have sex all the time Law, I could recognize your moans regardless.” You say to him. He huffs before just yanking his shorts off and climbing onto the bed. He hovers over your body, that begging look on his face making it known that he was in desperate need of your cunt.

“Why were you hiding in my closet?” You asked as you pressed a kiss to his neck. He sighs before looking away equally embarrassed and awkwardly. “I…I dunno. I dunno why I came in here.” He admits before placing his hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pepper kisses against his lips before speaking again. “Maybe your body wanted somethin that you weren’t thinking about?” You ask before kissing him again. “Maybe I do want something…why were you masturbating?” He asked, gripping your chin. “I wasn’t thinking about it till nowww, your situation is worse than mine perv.” You pouted to him. He huffs and kisses your lips before pushing down onto the mattress. He gropes your breasts and fondles them softly, his thoughts of jealousy now flowing back into his mind.

He stops and it catches you off guard. Law never stopped when it came to foreplay, so him doing it now began to bother you immensely. “Speak your mind. Seems like something is up with you..” You say, pressing a hand to his cheek. He looks down and sighs before speaking to you. “Do…Do you like Mugiwara-Ya..?” He asked, his glare now growing intense. You tilt your head and give him a look of confusion. “What?” That was all you could say as you were rather dumbfounded by his question. He looks away and covers his face, followed by a shaky sigh. “Do you or do you not like him?” He asks, now growing impatient for your answer. “Of course I don’t, if I did I would’ve already told you and you know that!” You argue before pouting. Law lets out a sigh of relief before another shaky sigh leaves him. “Oh…okay…thank god..” He says shakily.

He slumps over and his body begins to shake, alerting you. “Hey! Hey! LOOK AT ME!” You yelled at him as you gripped his face in your hands. You pull his face up to look at you, his eyes were teary and soaking as tears fell down his cheeks. “Why’re you crying!? What’re you crying for Law?” You asked, now more worried for him than before. He sniffles as you wipe his tears away before pressing a kiss to his quivering lips. “I just…I just don’t want you to..leave. I don’t want to be alone…” He whimpers as he wraps his arms around your semi-naked one. “Law…” You call out his same softly and kiss him softly before speaking to him again. “I wouldn’t leave you Law…not for anything or anyone. We may be best friends with benefits but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” You said softly before blushing deeply. You see Law’s eyes glimmer and glisten from tears and happiness from your words.

He sniffles again before hugging you tightly, his emotional breakdown now toning down a bit as you comfort him. He presses kisses along your breasts before trailing his tongue along nipples, a soft little moan leaving you. His face was still a bit scrunched up but he continued to press kisses along your body while you let out little whimpers. Sitting up, Law sits and pats his lap, motioning you to get on. You crawl over to him and trail your finger along his hard cock. He shivers and groans slightly before gripping your sides and yanking you onto his lap. “Stop teasin’ me and fuck me already.” He huffs angrily. You wrap your arms around his neck and look down at his cock as the tip prodded at your entrance.

You press a kiss to his lips before he he slowly pulls you down onto his cock. A moan leaves you both as you slowly begin to move your hips up and down against his. Law kept his hands on your hips as you bounced on his cock, his eyes fixated on your breasts bouncing as you moved along his cock. Gasps left you as you feel his tip hit you in the deepest spots before you let out a moan. Law could only smile as he watched you lose yourself on his cock. He groans slightly as he feels you tighten around him. “You’re really feelin’ it aren’t you?” He gasps as he feels you clench around him. “T-Traffy~” You moaned as you feel him hit your g-spot. Law sits up and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Keep going baby~” He gasps as he wraps his arms around your body.

A whimper leaves you as you feel your tummy grow warmer the more you bounced on him. Law lets out a soft moan as he feels is cock twitch within your gummy walls. “You look like you’re already about to cum, that ain’t like you to cum so early.” He chuckles lightly before he gasps. You couldn’t respond to him due to how good you were feeling, close to being unresponsive. His hands wrap around your body, fondling with the soft fluffy fabric of your robe. A loud moan spills from your mouth as you feel Law beginning to thrust into you all on his own. “I-It feels so fucking good~ I-I don’t think i can hold out a-any longerr~” You gasp, arching your back from the pleasure. Law laughs and moans as he lays your body down onto the soft bedding below. He thrusts into you so powerful yet not so fast that it bothered you.

“Fuck you’re choking my dick, you’re just sucking me in.” Law groans before a gasp leaves him. “I-I feel myself cumming! I-It’s coming Traffy~” You whimpered. Law holds your hands and intertwines them together with your as you whined from the warmth in your tummy. “Cum for me, cum for me baby~” Law also whines as he feels himself getting ready to cum. “F-Fuck!~ M-M’coming!~” You moaned as you began to gush on his cock. A loud gasp leaves you as you squirt onto his lower abdomen, a satisfied moan leaving you afterwards. You feel Law cum deep inside of your cunt as he shivers against your body. He breathes heavily as he presses a loving kiss to your lips.

You hug him tightly and pepper kisses onto his face lovingly. “Be mine. Please be mine ________.” Law begs as he nuzzles up against your soft body. You laugh softly before pressing more kisses against his face. “I’m already yours silly.” You giggle before cupping his face. “N-No I mean…I wanna be with you…I wanna…make a commitment.” He sighs as a blush engulfs his face. “Law we’ve been with benefits for about a year, we might as well be dating at this point.” You sigh. Law pouts as he lies his head against your breasts. “Just…the thought of you leaving just…doesn’t sit right with me. Especially if you go to that idiot Mugiwara-Ya.” He huffs before yawning. You smile softly and press another kiss to his head.

“Aww my darling is jealous isn’t he?” You joke as you comb your fingers through his soft raven strands. He sighs as he looks up at you. “M’gettin tired, stop playin’ with me.” He pouts. “Then go to sleep Law, I’m not moving.” You sighed, your soft smile still spread across your face. Law groans before he tries to get himself comfortable against your soft and plush mounds. “Goodnight Traffy, get some rest.” You say before yawing. He groans in response before pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts. “G’night baby…I love you.” He says reluctantly.

“I love you too honey.” You replied back before relaxing yourself on the bed with him.

-y’all I enjoyed this but I’m really hype to write Luffy for Fr.

[the-ineffable-cross]

@neil-gaiman I HOPE YOUR HAPPY WITH THE FACT THIS SHOW SINGLE HANDEDLY REVIVED MY ASTRONOMY FIXATION WITH JUST THE WORDS 'alpha centauri'

I'm getting back into my live for astronomy and all my knowledge is coming back to me in waves but you know what made me freeze?

ALPHA FUCKING CENTAURI

So you know how Crowley mentions/talks about going to Alpha Centauri several times of the course of both seasons?

Well, Alpha Centauri is made of two stars, Alpha Centauri A and Alpha Centauri B.

A and B both orbit a common centre, and (if my memory serves me right), their orbital period is roughly 79-80 years.

(Also, I think this is probably an irrelevant connection, but the time between the Holy Water request and the Blitz was 79 YEARS)

The orbit of A and B is eccentric (not a perfect circle), meaning the distance from which both planets orbit their centre fluctuates, making the two stars be around as close as the Sun and Saturn at some points.

AND THIS NEXT BIT IS MAKING ME GOD SLIGHTLY CRAZY (I HAVE ISSUES)

We see that, throughout time, Crowley and Aziraphales time without seeing each other (that we currently know of) fluctuates.

ALOT LIKE HOW CENTAURI A AND CENTAURI B ORBIT EACH OTHER!!!!!

Their relationship is (astronomically speaking) eccentric. They go periods of time in which they don't know when either of them know when they will see each other next, and this is exactly the orbit of Alpha Centauri A and B.

It's as if Crowley and Aziraphale are already standing on Alpha Centauri, one on A and one on B.

At one point, they get close enough to brush fingers, launching delicate sparks into the nothingness before being wrenched away from each other, unaware when they will see one another next.

IM ALSO THINKING ABOUT HOW CROWLEY ONLY EVER ASKS AZIRAPHALE TO GO OFF TO ALPHA CENTAURI. NOWHERE ELSE. WHEREAS AZIRAPHALE ASKS CROWLEY TO COME BACK UP TO HEAVEN AND AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Ahem- anyways. Let's get to the point dolphins

Crowley wants to go to Alpha Centauri because his astronomy loving ass feels that it represents the two of them.

It represents the two of them in a tragic metaphor of desperate love and seperation but also in the way that they are both irrevocably tied to one another.

These two stars are tied to one another in the way that neither would be truly complete without the other.

And when Crowley looks at Aziraphale as he say that Alpha Centauri is "nice" and "he's always wanted to go there", you see the remembrance of Crowleys plea for them both to go to Alpha Centauri (season 1, ep 3) in Aziraphale's eyes.

And so when Aziraphale begs Crowley to come back to heaven, it's a direct parrellel back to S1, EP3. Crowley wanted them both to go to Alpha Centauri, their celestial representation as I'm going to call it, and be true equals, and Aziraphale wanted to go but doubled down on his mission to save Earth.

EXCEPT this time Aziraphale wants them both to go back to heaven, a place where they WILL NOT be equals, and Crowley vehemently says no.

It's a contrast between a place of equality and a place of inequality, and Aziraphale's choice of inequality was interpreted as Aziraphale not viewing their relationship in the same way as Crowley does, leaving him lost.

Aziraphale leaves him the same way Alpha Centauri A leaves Alpha Centauri B, further away but never truly gone.

Except Crowley doesn't know if he's coming back.

ANYWAYS,

I live alpha centauri and you should too <333

WOOOO THAT GOT A TAD OUT OF HAND

(I don't think i worded this the best I could have an not this is not proof read)

[griefxoxo]

Looking

Disclaimer: All characters are 19+. If you do not like this type of content, please DO NOT read. This is pure fantasy only.

What are you staring at?

PPPPPRRRTT

Still want to keep looking. *laughs*

pssssssssstttt

A low hiss whispered from this man's circular ass. I was almost mesmerized until the smell. I was almost nauseous and wanted to leave. 

HOURS EARLIER

I was on vacation in Miami, Florida. I was excited as I would finally get a break from the world for a short time. It was noon and the sun was beating against my face. Everyone was drinking, playing at the beach, and the best part, there were some hot men 🥵. 

The day went on and around mid afternoon I met this guy called Jacky. He was tan, lean and had a cute bubble butt. He was pretty cool and seemed to even like me. We chatted and laughed, and I got introduced to his friends. 

"Hey, there's a nice little room we can share and hang out," Jacky said as he smirked. I could tell he wanted something a little more than just hanging out. 

"Sure, I don't mind," I said, agreeing. He led me to a private room which looked very comfortable and fancy. He started taking his shorts off and kept stretching and pacing around the room a little pretending to look around. I thought this was weird and ignored it. 

As I went to sit on the bed I smelled something foul. Has someone left garbage in here? I scanned the room and everything was fine. 

psst

Then I heard it. It was a very quiet poot. Now I realized what the smell was, but even stranger I kinda enjoyed it now.  

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a minute," I said as an excuse to hide from embarrassment. 

"Alright, don't take too long. Don't wanna miss out," he said in a cheeky tone. I started becoming even more embarrassed by how hot he was. 

I started to finally cool down after like 10 minutes and walked back out. Surprisingly, Jacky didn't notice me. However, now he was fully naked looking at his phone. Before I could even step closer to him...

Pppprrrrrbbbbbbbbbbbb

Prrbrbrb Psssssssssss brrpp

A series of long winded emission from his breathtakingly nice ass traveled through the room with an even thicker scent hanging like fog.

"I'm glad you heard that. I actually saved that one for you. I know you probably fell into my trap earlier. Hehe," he laughed playfully. 

PRRRRRRBRBRRRRTTTT blaaaap

"Woooo. That was a little wet. Sure you don't wanna sniff. I know you like it." 

I froze. Did he know this entire time? Was I not sneaky enough? Had he noticed me when I came out of the bathroom?

Waking up from my daze I hesitated. I wanted to decline, but I decided why not. I walked over and started to massage his legs. 

BRRPP

He let out a quick burst of air right into my face. I then planted my nose near his butt and softly inhaled. Jacky put his hand on my head and started shoving it deeper.

He let out a few more poots that stunk terribly for a good 20 minutes and then rubbed my face in to let it sit. 

"Aaaaahhhhh. That felt great," he said, relieved. 

"Maybe we could do this again before you leave. I'd like to sit on your face too," he chuckled." 

[woozvc]

call you tonight

part XIV

previous / masterlist / next

a/n - the way ALL of you thought he was going to confess 😭 guys I think we established before cheol = sucks at feelings 💀 also I can't make him confess without closure :( so now y'all finally know where the rivalry comes from woooo

taglist 🔖 —

@minhui896 @lirtha97 @haecien @thefroggybazaar @mayashu @jeonghansshitester @wonwoos-wineparty @huening-kawaii @sp1ng @wonwootakemyheart

@ddokye @thepoopdokyeomtouched @zzenkha @nishloves @weird-bookworm @sana-is-ms-rmty @immabecreepin @amxlia-stars

@peachhiz @punkhazardlaw @lockburn-castle @asyre @luchiet @ocyeanicc @wondering-out-loud @odetoyeonjun @tamcitrus @miriamxsworld @kissesfrmwonwoo @cherr-y-eji @jeoncatsworld @youre-on-your-ownkid @addicsvt @bangantokchy @tacosandbitch @sun-daddy-yoriichi @ckline35 @rakshithanotrao @isabellah29 @mangocustard16 @lone-lone-ranger @gyuguys @writingbarnes @scarlet931 @odxrilove

[givemea-dam-break]

heart's fury - prologue

book one: hope "prologue"

in which a story begins.

pairing: zuko x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys! first part of my big zuko x reader, which was originally post on ao3 here! this is a brain baby created by my return to the atla fandom (first time properly being in the fandom since i first watched this as a child rip) and a need to write something for it which woooo! big moment since i had been in the biggest writing slump i've ever had before i wrote this. i hope you all enjoy the first part, and the following chapters, because i have so enjoyed writing this and continue to enjoy it! love u all <3

warnings: none

words: 838 heart's fury masterlist

There was something so idyllic about the southern seas in the early morning. The way the sun’s fiery light reflected atop the soft blue waves; the smell of salt and cold air mixing together; the distinctly freezing southern air that, somehow, could not permeate (y/n)’s thick jacket. She felt strangely warm standing at the bow of the ship, staring at the towering icebergs that the ship easily slipped between. She wondered how anything could become so large, so imposing, but she supposed it was part of the southern charm. The last she had heard, the Southern Water Tribe had dwindled in numbers. Fire Nation soldiers imprisoned their waterbenders decades ago and, though they were accustomed to the cold, not every child could survive in such extreme conditions. No outsiders, including the Fire Nation, had set foot in Southern Water Tribe territory in years. (y/n) could only imagine how sparse their population was. But they were persistent, these Southerners, like the icebergs. They had not let the Fire Nation get the best of them. 

“What are you doing out at this time?” a voice asked from behind. “It is far too cold and early.”

“Catching some peace,” she said simply. “My gut is telling me that today is going to be different.”

A hand came to rest on the railing beside her, old and weathered and gentle, but still admirably strong. Connected to the hand was, well, perhaps the only Fire Nation nobility she had been able to tolerate in years. 

General Iroh, now retired, had a kind face and a soft smile that she was sure would alone keep her warm if she had not been wearing her jacket. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead, and the deepness of his smile lines did not age him but, rather, did the opposite. He reminded her of a mischievous - yet remarkably wise - child; one that could not be trusted alone with a basket of sweet treats. He shivered in his red robes, but he kept a firm grip on the icy metal railing.

“And why do you say that?”

(y/n) turned her gaze back on the icy path ahead of them. She had always trusted her intuition, knowing that it was a better weapon than her knives or even her bending, but she often couldn’t explain the reasons why she felt things. Maybe it stemmed from her childhood, some sixth sense she had developed by guessing what her mother would make for breakfast or which way her father would take her on his ostrich-horse to get to the Royal Palace in the mornings. Perhaps it was some semblance of a spiritual connection - one of Iroh’s stories that had taken root and given her a strong mind.

She wasn’t sure what her answer to his question should be.

“Just a feeling,” she said. She always said.

It seemed to be enough to appease Iroh. “We are nearing the south pole. I fear that my nephew will be let down once more.”

It was a justified concern. The reason they both stood on this ship, thousands of miles away from home, was a fruitless hunt, bred from punishment, shame, and a terrible lust for honour and, ever a self-centred royal, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was determined to get what he wanted.

The Avatar.

Two and a half years the three, and a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had been hunting the living legend down. It was a futile search - Fire Lord Ozai was aware of this when he had banished his son - but Prince Zuko was adamant. He had ordered them around the world in search of a man who had not been seen in a hundred years, and thrown a princely fit every time they did not find him. 

Iroh was right to worry. Prince Zuko’s sole ambition was to find the Avatar and restore his honour, taking back his rightful place as heir to the title of Fire Lord, but it made one wonder what would happen if he were to accept that the Avatar was unreachable.

Not that he would ever accept it.

“This isn’t the right path for him,” Iroh murmured. Despite there being nobody else on deck, he kept his voice low, leaning closer. “Capturing the Avatar is not the correct decision.”

He cast her a meaningful look, something in the wise, dark eyes sparkling as he turned and walked away, likely to make himself a cup of tea.

(y/n) breathed a sigh, watching the misty breath hover in front of her before dissipating. This was not the first time Iroh had hinted at the secret she kept close to her chest, clutched in iron fingers. If anyone else were to know, she would likely be dead by now. But Iroh shared her cause.

If they ever found the Avatar, wherever they were, she would fight tooth and nail to ensure Prince Zuko could never take them back to the Fire Nation.

<-masterlist chapter one ->

[miyaur]

Hiii! Can I pretty please req Kokomi, Noelle, Ayaka and Hu Tao with an affectionate reader?

⟢ care to be mine? oh you already are?! ft. noelle, kokomi, ayaka, & hutao! ・sypnosis. how about we go out together, and you'll be mine, and i'll be yours! oh i already know we're together, i like falling in love with you over and over again! ・notes. WOOOO GENSHIN WOMEN!!! im so happy to see this request ngl nsjsdsdsd, anyw thanks for giving me this req!!! ・warnings. fluffy, overly affectionate reader if that counts, implied relationship between character & reader

THE 77TH FUNERAL DIRECTOR: HU TAO ・YEAHHH SOMEONE MATCHES HER ENERGY!!! definitely whenever she sees you while going on a stroll around town, will open her arms for you to run into to her while tryna hug her back, if you would she loves to give piggyback rides to you too. loves you so much, and so does she!! probably would also run around town in both your free time to prank people, and every successful prank would be one kiss, from the one and only you!! she wants you to be there to see it too!!

・accepts your affection with wide arms, even with you draped around her shoulders, your head resting on hers while she does work is her favorite!! kinda makes her know she's safe, because you're there with her. just know your boundaries, and when is the right time and she'll do the same, loves every bit of your affection, lets her know that at least someone enjoys her little pranks hehe. her being in your warmth is enough to make a bad day go well. you being there to cheer her on is enough to make her face light up, at first the affection was so unexpected, but she was so up for the idea. doesn't care if other people see you and her do all that pda stuff, just lets everyone know your affection is hers. ・probably adopts a cat that you've been feeding everyday near your shared home, absolutey loves it with you, like parents to the cat. names it her favorite dish. always notices when your mood changes to something a bit negative, and that's a go signal for her to be overly affectionate this time!! loves making you smile, then loves it when you hug her in return. kiss her forehead whenever you guys cuddle!! definitely loves it, would try to hide her face away from you so that you wouldn't see the millions of shades in red covering her face. ・probably loves words of affirmation, and acts of service, getting told she's annoying for her pranks isn't exactly a good feeling. but the things you do for her, and the things you do to her, all the praise you give while she's done nothing to deserve it, all the hugs, kisses, and love you give, and she still feels like she has to do more, but assure her that she shouldn't because all you want is her, she'll fall 100% ・the way you got introduced to zhongli was you chasing hu tao around for a kiss probably. then you bump into him, and hu tao comes running at you both, again. and introduces you both, and zhongli is slightly surprised she has a significant other, but is like a proud dad. while you both are rambling to each other like a lovey dovey couple, and he third wheels, he thinks you both fit each other like a jigsaw puzzle, because there should always be someone to love you, even if the rest of the world hates you.

probably would make fun of you whenever you say something cheesy, "for all that it's worth, i'm glad i met you." you'd say while looking up to the setting sun in the distance, "no you aren't." she teases, looking back at you, smiling, "yeah, you're right, i have dreams of you stapling your fingers to your face." "ew!! stop saying that!!"

THE DIVINE PRIESTESS: SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI ・dream come true to her, probably liked you as soon as you both met, probably sun and moon relationship. she's a bit of both, but she likes it better when you do all the talking, and she does the listening. after somewhat a long period of time that kokomi's been gone, obviously you'd miss her, and she'd miss you. but whenever those long missions finally finish, she loves the feeling when as soon ass you see her, you come running with your arms open just to hug her ・loves mostly anything and everything about you / anything you're willing to give, aka your affection. probably loves whenever you become cheesy with her, makes her flustered.

"Hey I have a day off tomorrow, wanna do anything special?" Kokomi asks, getting up her chair to face you with a bright smile painted on her face, "I just wanna be in your arms, in your presence, anywhere you go, I just wanna be with you." You said, noticing the small tint of rose on her cheeks, "Well, anywhere is alright, just make sure you enjoy yourself there. Your happiness is mine." The eye contact between the both of you, the grin spread across from ear to ear on your face, made her really flustered, "O-okay! I have to go get something really quick, so just wait here and we can talk about where we'll go!" Walking out the room, Kokomi put her head in her hands, she definitely knows you'll treat her right

・whenever she's down, whenever she's failed in something, whenever she feels like she isn't worth anything, and you aren't with her, her mind wanders to all those memories of your smile, and imagines your warm embrace around her, because she knows you mean every word you say, whenever you compliment her, she knows she's at least worth something to someone, always wants to keep you close after those moments. ・matching clothes with her!! like her whole wardrobe got to be matching with yours. loves it whenever you remember the little things about her, like her favorite dish, or what kind of movies she prefers, her spotify playlist on save, or even the flowers she prefers. overthinks a bunch, the question of you both never meeting always comes to mind, but you were a friend of gorou's that just happened to be able to help with a certain mission. ・surprise date nights for those days she's off, but has got off those depressing shifts at work, and the impossible amount of paperwork really just set her off, she wasn't as happy as she was before,

"How about you just follow me okay?" her hand in yours, running towards somewhere, "Okay, but why did you make me dress up?!" her screaming from behind as you led her out to a small table with 2 chairs, decorated with white lilies, kind of like a little cottage in the wild, where no one else would disturb you both. her favorite food set out on the table, along with your own favorite, "Alright, you can open your eyes!" As you let go of her hand, the light reflected off her skin, the vine-decorated ivy cottage right before her eyes, a hopeful gaze looks back to you, "is this.. for me?"

・thanks gorou so many times for introducing the sunshine in her life to help brighten her mood. and thanks the archons that she met such ethereal beauty, and kindness in person in her life, every night, she looks up, and closes her eyes, thanking the people who got her here today, and praises the archons for letting her meet you.

SHIRASAGI HIMEGIMI: KAMISATO AYAKA ・first found you running around with yoimiya plus some children. lighting those little fireworks on a stick at night, and carrying them home once they've fallen asleep, their parents are just real busy people, you and yoimiya had decided to babysit while they were out, for free, and no pay. ayaka was free that day, and made the best decision of wanting to hangout with yoimiya, and to get to know who this wildly attractive person is. ・finds out your name while you blurt lots of stuff out while talking to yoimiya, walking through inazuma with ayaka between you and yoi, looking at what's new, and what you can afford. and what really made her fall is when you asked if she wanted anything, clearly looking hungry, and her answering that she's fine and she doesn't really know what she wanted to order if she was, and you ordered all kinds of dishes and let her try, thought you were really nice about it, especially how you were a little short on money, yet you were more than willing to spend every last dime on her, even if you both just met. ・once you both finally date, yoimiya is more than welcome to be your guys' third wheel on dates, in fact always has been even before you both got together.

"You know, before I asked you out, I asked Ayato & Yoimiya's permission." You said holding her hand and grinning at her, "She did! Was very happy to say yes!!" Yoimiya interrupted, hugging both of you from behind, "And I promised to always be your third wheel when I could!" Laughing your hearts off, Ayaka loved seeing you smile, it made her smile too.

・"You're gonna get hurt!" x "At least I'll have fun!" definitely, kiss attacks on her face once she comes back from somewhere, doesn't do a lot of pda though, will keep your relationship a secret 'till she's ready, she still has a reputation to keep yk? she doesn't mean that in a bad way or anything she just wants to keep you safe, letting enemies know you're her weak spot. doesn't want anything happening to the best thing in her life. ・"you're all i ever want" x "flustered*" purely, lowkey scared of how much affection you give her, it makes her super happy, but scared, scared to accept it, she hasn't opened her heart up to anyone before, but you were very willing to give everything to her, right after meeting her. the way you remember those little details about her make her blush hard. even the first day you met, the meals she liked, anything and everything you mostly knew about her, and she would she could do the same, obviously the standard things about you she remembers, even the little grin you do when you get her blushy with one cheesy pickup line, but all the little details you've observed from just being with her for a short period of time makes her even more thankful to the archons, every night, every day, whenever she can she'll be with you, she'll be in the embrace of you arms.

THE MAID OF THE KNIGHTS OF FAVONIUS: NOELLE ・the sweetest at trying to confess her feelings to you. catches them while you were helping lisa with the books in the library, right after taking them back from late clients. she was skimming through books on how to get stronger, and her eyes wandering off the book, looking up to see the most beautiful person to ever set earth, while watching you turn around to reveal your most luxurious face, to see you both made a bit of eye contact, she ducks down behind her book again. ・once you finally go, she'll come up to lisa with all the books in her hands,

"hey ms. lisa? can i ask who that was?" noelle turns a bit shyly, while slamming the books back on the desk owned by lisa. "oh? are you saying you're interested in them?" lisa smirks, and putting the books below her rounded desk again, "i- no i mean-! that isn't what i meant! i just wanted to... get to know their name, they seem interesting! that's all!" stuttering all over the place, tint of ruby all over her face. "their name is y/n. they live pretty close to here, and in the library often, they help me and jean quite recently, and they've helped a lot, they thought you were pretty cute too, you know." lisa said, getting up and giving noelle her library pass back, sliding it across the desk, "t-thank you.." taking it back, and getting out of the library as fast as she could, at least she knew your name now.

・probably take shifts near your home while patrolling around mondstadt. one time, and the time she finally found out her feeling for you were romantic; she was lowkey getting harassed by a drunk adventurer, who seemed to just get out the tavern, having 1 too many drinks. you immediately coming to defend her, pulling out your weapon, "get lost, weirdo, she doesn't like you." you said trying to escort noelle out of the situation, "oh but i think she does.. she's blushing, and it's all because of me, alright? you should get lost, because we were having a moment here. i'm an adventurer, hic-! don't intimidate me!!" he screams, "anyways sweetheart, come on.. you just accepted me asking you out, let's go-" slapping his arm harshly off her waist, "dude can't you see she's mad uncomfortable?! she doesn't want you around her! so get the hell out of here!" the shiny vision hung around your waist was already making him cower. "damn alright.. jeez, see you around, sweetheart." the creep walks away, "you hurt or anything? your name is noelle right?" you ask, while checking if the man did anything bad to her while she wasn't in your sights, "i-i'm alright! how do you know my name, if i may ask?" she asks, pushing her hair behind her ear, "i'm y/n, and i asked lisa, you shouldn't worry." ・she confessed through your similar interests in books, a library date, she asked you out through letters, heartfelt words were spilt onto the paper. the way you give her everything you can in terms of affection makes her feel safe, the way you defend her makes her feel like she can trust you all the much more. falls in love over and over again when receiving your bear hugs, feeling your hands wrap around her feels like she's the luckiest woman in the world. when your soft lips hits her cheek, she will melt in your arms. every kind of love you give her makes her blush all the time. ・your small smile after your lips and hers crash makes her wanna smile too, your small kisses on the forehead made her become a tomato, your kisses printed on her neck send shivers down her spine, your affection makes her feel wanted and valid. she always wanted to feel wanted, she wants her feelings to be valid, your affection makes her feel 100 different emotions, loves everything you do, supports everything you do, pretty okay with pda, just blushes madly whenever it happens. ・"quiet & shy" x "affectionate & extroverted social butterfly"

[brighttears]

Breaking Glass

Joel Miller x f!reader

No use of y/n, no physical description except for female sex organs and having hair

Summary: It takes a close call on a run outside of Boston for Joel to realize that he needs to finally tell you the truth—he’s in love with you.

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: pining (Joel, resolved), violence, description of being cut (brief and metaphorical), smut (minors dni), unprotected PiV, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, darling, good girl)

A/n: WOOOO finally i wrote something. this took way longer than i thought it would. BIG THANKS to my lovely bestie @bejeweledblueberries for being my beta reader <<<<33333 (btw the smut is p much unedited) (also the cover photo is so lq but its such a pretty picture so)

—

“You ready?” You ask, grabbing your gun to tuck into your waistband, flipping your shirt over where it sits on your back to conceal it.

Joel does not like being in Boston, but he can’t say he’s ever excited to leave—leaving means danger, extra danger, more than what you’ll find within the QZ; infected, for one, but not only. And though he feels safe with you and your weaponry at his side, he does not like going outside the QZ with you. However, the two of you have agreed that him going out without you is just as acceptable as you going out without him, and there are things out there you can’t get anywhere else, and you need a generator. 

Joel looks you over while you rustle through your backpack and then slip it on. You’re so beautiful, he wants to say, but he won’t. 

From the moment you met, Joel felt something shift. Someone had introduced you to him as a solid resource, so you did a few deals, and then you became an asset. That was the word Joel stuck with for a while, but when you started going on runs together and sort of teamed up as traders, Joel found something more growing. Shoving it down worked adequately well, though, so Joel felt relatively safe. Nonetheless, the feelings have continued to simmer, but he’s been able to keep them contained.

If he had his way, right now he would take your bag off of you, lay your weapons down, scoop you up, take you into the bedroom, and lay down with you; nothing more, just lay and hold you safe with him. But he won’t.  

At his silence, you look at him and raise your eyebrows. 

“Oh, yeah.” Joel snaps back into it, stealing one last double take before grabbing his own gun to hide like yours and slinging on his pack. You start for the door first and Joel follows you down the noisy, dingy hallway. 

The afternoon sun is harsh outside and the streets are bustling, but you have a learned path that you follow to sneak out past the walls. 

Once out, the din of the QZ trails behind you for only a short time before being replaced by chirping birds, the rustling leaves of the green trees, and refreshing flora. A subtle peace falls over the two of you as you pull away, but a dismal tone intrudes as you venture out further into the ruins of the former world. Many things are left exactly as they were, but broken, dilapidated, decayed—visibly abandoned in the chaos of that final fateful day. Joel diverts his gaze when you pass an empty stroller, a faded pink blanket dirty and rumpled on the ground in front of it. 

The goal is a generator, and Joel turns his attention back to the search for any place you might be able to find one; there’s supposed to be a hardware store around here somewhere. You pass clothing stores, grocery stores and drugstores, a jewelry shop, and restaurants, all overcome by nature, with ivy snaking through broken windows to crawl onto ceilings, welcome mats covered with moss, any hanging plant holders a waterfall of colorful flowers with curly, verdure tails. Mother Earth has come back as queen decorator and with her new freedom has wasted no space.

After walking for a while, you pause in front of an upscale restaurant, and Joel slows to a stop, coming to your side to look in with you. The inside is open to view from the large wooden frames missing their glass. The wood interiors are rich but mostly wrecked by water damage. Every table is still set up with plates, silverware, folded cloth napkins, and large wine glasses, though all dirty and dusty. Liquor bottles sparkle in the sunlight on the back wall’s bar. 

After a moment, Joel looks at you and asks, “Watchu thinkin’ about?” 

You hum a sigh, then turn to him with a wishful smile, “I just bet their food was sooooo good,” you laugh. Joel smirks and then gives into a smile as he watches yours. Inevitably, his mind wanders to taking you out there, you in a tight dress, he with cufflinks in, clinking glasses with a red rose on the table—

Suddenly, a booming voice calls out, “Hey there, friends, haven’t seen you around these parts!”

You both whip around and, far but still too close, four men are walking towards you. Their clothes are dirty and ripped but their faces are unconventionally cheerful. 

The man speaking shows off two broken teeth, gapping his smile. “Oh, look, a gentleman and a lady!”

The hair on the back of Joel’s neck stands. Quietly, he states “Foe.” and raises his gun, but you beat him at the punch, shooting twice and then yelling “Go!”. 

Joel instinctively bolts into the restaurant and hears a gruff “Fuck!” as he sprints to the bar at the end of the room. He throws himself around it, quickly pulling out his revolver to cock in his hand on the concrete floor as his back hits hard against the cabinets. 

Glass shatters and he ducks his head as the cups from atop the bar blast over his head. At the top of his vision, dozens of shelved liquor bottles burst, pouring reds and golds. Clear vodka drips onto the toe of his shoe at the end of his outstretched leg. It runs cool into his sock as it trails down his boot.

Joel shoots out an exhale and then whips around, throwing his arms over the bar to return fire, but his bullets only batter the wooden tables flipped on their sides, shielding the men set behind them. Joel ducks back and lands just in time for another powerful succession of bullets. A half broken bottle falls and crashes onto the floor and he shuts his eyes and swivels his head, feeling the liquor spray his cheek. 

He whirls back over the bar but after only a few shots hears a loathsome clicking. When he crouches down to check the cylinder, he finds it empty. 

“Fuck.” Joel grits through his teeth. 

Thoughts churn and froth in adrenaline as he slaps over empty pockets, and when a hand lands on his belt, where his knife should be, he looks down at it and realizes he must have forgotten it. 

Running the day back through his head, he remembers looking at you right before you left; he must have been too distracted and left it, probably on the table right next to his gun. Joel closes his eyes and hits his head back on the bar. “God damn it.”

Then his eyes shoot back open—where the fuck are you? His heart stops. Where the fuck are you?

Joel shuts his eyes again and realization of his true failure floods through him.

He loves you, but he’s never said a word. Never has a breath of it ever left his lips. Why? The fear that has kept it sealed away seems like complete bullshit compared to the electrocution of fear that shot through him when he realized he’s out of bullets. He had been afraid of living. He sees that now. 

Behind his eyes, he sees you. 

The first image that flows into his mind is your smile—something hard to find in the Boston QZ, something that took a long time to see, and something that knocked the breath out of him the first time he saw it. He had watched your lips broaden in slow motion, revealing teeth in a perfect curve. He’d made you laugh. He tried making jokes a lot more often after that, and started becoming familiar with your dazzling smile in return.

He remembers the first time you went on a run together; you had snuck out early in the morning to split through between guard’s shifts when the sun was still rising, gold in the divine forestry of the world beyond gray walls. There was a moment where the sun perfectly framed your profile, highlighting the curve of your nose, your lips, your brow, your lashes; the image is etched in his memory. 

One day, out in the streets, some Firefly approached him when he was really not in the fucking mood for it, and right when he took a step forward, tensing to throw a punch, you had grabbed his hand. It was the first time you’d touched, and it brought him down immediately. It didn’t calm him, distracted him more like it, but he let you drag him away. One look from you told him to quit it and he followed obediently behind you while you led him back to his apartment. Mesmerized, he watched the swish of your hips the whole way back. In front of his building you told him, “You need to learn how to pick your battles, Joel. He wasn’t worth your punch.” He objected, you returned, “Figure out what’s important and put that zeal of yours into that.” 

He thought on that for a long time, it was the precursor to his realization that he’s in love with you. He barely slept the night he did. When you showed up at his door the next morning, he was tongue tied. You asked him what was wrong, he told you he’d barely slept. When you asked why, he admitted he’d just been thinking about what you said, about figuring out what’s important, but when you asked him what conclusion he had come to, he lied. He felt completely unable to tell you then. 

After that day, Joel debated almost habitually if he’d ever tell you. That’s when the fantasies started. Torture came with it, too—he was so very torn, so full of longing; it was like he’d been cut, his love for you was like a wound, in such deprived circumstances. He was too afraid of losing his only friend, and to be left behind with a gash of unreciprocated love. The longing deepened quickly, but he grew to tolerate it; he needed you around, whether it was exactly how he wanted it or not. No matter what, he just didn’t want to lose you, and that fear kept the lips of his heart sewn shut. 

Once there was a time when you had arranged to meet up and you opened your door to meet him with a black eye, split lip, and a bent posture. A protective hand hovered over the side of your ribs while you stepped aside for him to enter your apartment. Joel stumbled over “Are you okay?” and “Who did this to you?”, pulled both further into your apartment and back out to beat the fucker’s ass, but you sat him down and kept him locked there when you begged him to stay—“Just stay here, okay? Please don’t go out there to start a fucking brawl in the street, that’d be stupid—you’d get teamed up on or busted by some FEDRA guard, I don’t want to get you lookin’ like me or locked in a cell or whatever the fuck—it’s just not worth it, okay? Just, please stay here.”

So he did, all day, and you let him clean you up better than you had yourself. He focused his gaze more than he has even when shooting a gun when you lifted your shirt up so he could check the damage to your ribs. It wasn’t all that difficult with that bruise though, black and blue with flecks of red, threatening tears in his eyes. He almost told you that day.

Still too scared. He needed this moment now, because now he might really lose you. 

The raspy voice of one of the men trapping Joel takes him out of his head, “Haven't heard any shots outta you in awhile, you outta bullets, fuck face?” He cackles, shrill and ruthless, “You’re fucked now, huh?” He cackles again, ugly and evil. The laugh itself sounds like that of a killer. 

“Come on out, we’ll spare ya!” Another shouts.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’re real gentlemen, we don’t shoot unarmed men!” A third adds and they all laugh. 

“Gotta come out sometime!”

He’s right. Panicked, Joel glances around, looking for something to use. All there is is broken glass—useless from this position. 

“Shit.”

This quick run outside the walls, where he foolishly guessed he’d only need one gun, has turned into a shootout, and he’s lost track of you. The possibility of you having been killed ties Joel’s chest up tight as a noose. 

Then, three shots but no breaking glass, a man’s agonized scream, another shot, and quiet. Joel’s breathing does not calm and he remains flustered until your voice breaks the silence.

“Joel?”

Immediately, he shoots up to see you standing in the doorway of the restaurant, gun still raised, pointed off to the side at a slumped body. Your chest heaves and your hair is disheveled. 

“Are you okay?” You call out as he’s already holstering his gun and swinging around the bar. He basically charges at you, flooded with relief just at the sight of you. Then you collide, and Joel wraps his arms around you impulsively, his lips almost touching your shoulder with his nose on your neck. Joel closes his eyes, breathing in deeply with his cheek firmly against your skin and letting his arms squeeze you. Enveloped in you, his surroundings fall away, and all he wants is to hold you. 

A near death experience is often something that knocks some sense into people and Joel just hopes to god he can keep this fresh courage long enough to get home to finally tell you that he loves you, because there will come another time when he is fucked, doomed, out of bullets, and you may not be there, and he will die with a mouth full of regret. He doesn’t let go of you. 

“Joel, are you okay? Hey, hey, are you ok?” You put your hands on his shoulders, lightly pushing him away, but he doesn’t release you, nor does he open his eyes, wanting to just feel you and listen to you breathe.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He murmurs against you.

“Joel,” you say softly, then move your hands from his shoulders to instead wrap them around him, resting your chin on his shoulder and brushing your hands up and down his back slowly. Joel feels your chest expand and contract with a deep breath. After a few moments, you whisper, “We have to go. It’s not safe here.” 

Joel takes one more inhale of your scent before reluctantly loosening his grip. He pulls back slowly, letting his hands shift down, stilling on your forearms to hold you before him. He looks over your face, idling, a dreamy haze over his mind, almost dizzy from the adrenaline rush wearing off and the sleepiness of love.   

Your lashes flutter and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Your thumbs circle over where they rest on his biceps. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“We really should go.”

Joel doesn’t answer. You’re right, but he’s afraid to move, afraid that if he lets go, of you and of this moment, his fervor for truth will stay here, and he’ll leave it behind and stay silent. But should he risk staying here and Infected showing up, having heard all the gunfire, or if the recently deceased have friends not far behind?

Finally, he nods. As you turn and start toward the door, Joel’s hands, still not ready to let go of you, trail down your arms. One slips down into your hand and you look back at him, grow a smile and curl your finger to hook in his, tugging lightly to pull him behind you. 

And then you’re off. There’s no real room for conversation as you leerily duck and weave your way back to the QZ, but Joel forces the prior moments to run through his mind like a film. He is determined to grip this chance, thinking again and again of how he almost left you behind in this world without you knowing the truth about his feelings for you. 

When you reach the QZ, only barely making it before curfew when the guards will begin rolling through with their bright flashlights and loaded guns, you slip quietly through the streets before finally making it to the apartment you share. 

Only recently had you began living together, decidedly mostly out of convenience, since you go on runs together so frequently and have the same goal of leaving Boston—Joel has a brother out there somewhere, and you would simply like to get the fuck out of this cesspool that used to be Boston. Also because you get along so well, and well, he loves you, and he likes to be around you as much as possible. 

Decorating isn’t really something that exists in the QZ; belongings typically consist of necessities and maybe a few little personal indulgences, such as the butterfly window hanging that Joel couldn’t help himself from getting for the place. You arrived with your life in two bags. Nevertheless, your mark has trailed into his apartment, and somehow, the air feels a little cleaner with you there. 

Because you came to him, your bed is technically the pullout couch, but since his is much bigger, whenever you arrive home after him at night, he’s already on the pullout, forcing you into the more comfortable, actual bed. 

Every morning that Joel’s up first, or if he wakes in the night, he takes a moment, or a few, to lean in the doorframe to watch you sleep. He adores how you look when you’re unwound. If it’s in the middle of the night, he is often tempted—no, he aches to crawl in, even just to lay next to you. More frequently though, he fantasizes about moving closer, taking you into his arms, feeling your body against his, your hair in his face, to fill his lungs with your scent, even if it’s just sweat and ash. He imagines the little sound you’d make or the breath you’d let out once you feel him there, your fingers intertwining with his when he closes his hand over yours, you snuggling closer… sometimes he has to pull himself away for a quick dick pulling in the other room. Regardless of how it makes him feel—horny, smitten, quaking with yearning, or just some kind of tangled melancholy, he treasures these quiet moments and tries to memorize the relaxation on your face. 

These are not the only times he likes to watch you—sometimes, he’ll just be sitting at the table and you’ll be in the kitchen making coffee or in the living room tinkering with something or other, and he’ll play with ideas of a domestic life. Very secretly, he’ll roll around in the sound of your first name with his last name, or, unfrequently and especially confidently, a wedding.

Joel simply likes seeing you, being near you, and no matter what you’re doing, he adores spending time with you. The only way he can get a splash of contentment is when he’s with you—there’s nothing else here that could do that for him here. Only you, only you, runs through his head often. 

Tonight, you’re visibly exhausted as you walk into the apartment before him, dropping your bag on the table—right next to his knife, exactly where he had guessed it was—and rub your hands over your face. They slide down your neck, pausing briefly before falling to your sides. Then you turn to him and ask, “Are you ok?”

He nods, “I’m alright. Are you?”

“I am now, yeah,” you chuckle, “now that we’re back and I know you’re ok. What happened back there?”

Joel shrugs, “Ran outta bullets.” He chuckles sheepishly. 

“Oh.” you laugh. “Shit, yeah, you were three on one. I was around the corner fighting off one of those fucks. It was a knife fight though, usually takes a little longer.” Suddenly, you throw your hands to your head, “Fuck, I’m–I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner, I mean, you needed backup and I… took so long to fucking—”

“No, no,” He puts his hand out to stop you, his brow pinching up, “no, don’t worry about it sw—” he pauses, clearing his throat to pull back in ‘sweetheart’—maybe he’d been thinking about his feelings too much on the way back—“don’t go blamin’ yourself. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong. We got ambushed, that’s jus’ how it goes. I’m jus’ glad you’re alright—” Joel then paces over to you, scanning your face and body, “you sure you’re alright? Did’n’ get nicked or somethin’? Don’t hide that shit from me, you know,” 

“No, I’m fine. Maybe a couple scratches and bruises, but that’s it.” As he turns you, leaning in to check your back, you chuckle, “I’m fine, Joel.”

“You sure?” He asks again, quietly when he returns in front of you, turning your face from side to side with his fingers lightly along your jaw. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

As he looks over your face, he gets caught in your eyes, almost doelike with a sweet smile. He swallows hard, suddenly realizing your proximity. 

“Okay.” He almost whispers. 

Your lips twitch, you blink, and he swallows hard again, then lets go of you and steps back. 

You blow out an exhale, looking around. “There’s a box of bullets in my bag you can grab, I gotta wash this off,” you tell him as you walk backwards into the kitchen, then take your blade out of its sheath and turn to the sink. Joel moves to the table, slowly unzipping your bag, pulling out the box, and reloading his gun. His heart rate has picked up because he feels that now is the time and fuck, here it is, and he has to do this, it’s what he’d been promising himself he’d do the whole way back. His anxiety reassures him that this is his one chance; that damning fear is close to overtaking him again, and he can’t let it this time.

Joel plods over to lean against the counter next to the sink. 

As you run your knife under the water, you glance at him with a light smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He copies nervously. 

You glance at him again, then shut the water off, wipe the blade on your shirt, and resheath it on your hip. Leaning your hands over the edge of the sink, you shift your weight to one hip and turn your head to him. “What’s up?”

Joel meets your gaze and takes a deep breath. The broken sink continues to drip, clinking into the drain. “Well I,” he starts, “well, thank you, for… y’know.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You chuckle. 

“No, I mean, I know, I just… wanna thank you anyway. But, that’s not….” Joel takes another deep breath, stalling. “Uhm… well, I just… that was… that was a close call.” You nod, looking down. “And I’m… really glad… well… ok, listen.” You look back up at him but then he has to look back to the floor to gather his thoughts. “That was a close call.” He begins again. “I’ve had a few, but haven’t had one like that in awhile. You…” saved me. Not just then, you’ve been saving me for a long time. Joel clears his throat and takes another finalizing exhale, forcing the truth out with it, “You know what they say about… near death experiences I guess, where people get uh, moment of clarity, when they see everythin’ they regret doin’? Well, I think that could count as a near death experience, cause I was thinkin’... I mean, y’know, I got a lotta things I regret, but the one that was on my mind, just for a second, before you came in and saved my dumbass,” Joel looks up at you to smirks and you return one. “Well…” Joel’s smirk fades and as his eyes travel over your face his heart swells. Confidence and fear mix like water and oil within it, but the persistence he’d been cultivating surfaces and urges him to continue. “Well, I was thinkin’ about you.” Your head tilts slightly and your eyes soften, the corner of your lip pulled up slightly. “I was thinkin’ about how… I never told you that uh,” Joel looks down and nervously scratches his eyebrow. “I–I’m… in love with you.” He puts his hand on his hip, the other leaning on the counter, keeping his eyes down. Your hands clench the edge of the sink. His heart flees with pattering beats. The faucet drips its endless drip. 

At least you know. At least you know, he thinks to himself. He hadn’t built any expectations of what you might say, he can’t say he’s ready if you reject him, and he hasn’t thought far enough ahead to what he’d do if you do. He just needs you to know. 

Joel watches your fingernails turn white pressed against the silver of the sink and feels his heartbeat punching in his chest. This is his moment of truth. He knows that one way or another, nothing will be the same now; if this is the end between the two of you, he will never let himself share a truth like this ever again. He will leave Boston tomorrow and never look back. 

Finally, he looks up at you for some kind of tell, his lips parted, brow anxiously knitting together, but your eyes are locked unrevealingly on the drain. “Do you—could you—I mean, i–is that ok?” 

“This is something you planned on taking to the grave?” You ask, finally turning to him with still unrevealing eyes. 

Joel rubs his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes, shamefaced. “…I did. I jus’… I don’t wanna ruin everythin’.” He shakes his head. “Look, y’know, I really like you, I mean I lo–I love you, but, but, I jus’, y’know… like bein’ around you. I like everythin’ about you, I like talkin’ to you, I mean I feel like I can talk t’you. An’ I mean, we work pretty well together,” glancing at you, he adds, “don’t’y’ think?” He moves his hand to rub the back of his neck. “I think you’re so,” Joel looks back to the floor, finishing quietly and awkwardly, “beautiful… and I jus’… don’t wanna lose you. An’ back there… I thought I was gonna. I mean, I was gonna lose eveyrthin’, I was gonna lose my life, an’ I felt so… jus’… full of regret. That I never told you. I hope I show it, that’s the import’n thing. But I jus’ thought it was import’n that… you knew that I love you. An’ you’re worth lovin’. An’ I jus’ felt like you should know.” He concludes. 

“Well… I’m glad you told me.” This makes Joel look up and is met with a light smile. This time, your eyes are soft. You pull your lips in briefly before continuing, “I really like you too. I mean, I really like living with you and… I really like spending time with you and talking to you. You’re the first friend I’ve had in awhile,” you chuckle, “and… I feel safe around you.” Joel breathes deeply. You feel safe around him, one of his deepest desires come true. I’ll keep you safe forever. Just stay with me forever, and I’ll keep you safe forever. I’ll love you forever. “And… I just really like you, and I’m… I love you too.” You breathe out, “I love you Joel,” and your eyes are on his lips and you turn to him, fall into him and you kiss. 

You taste sweet and you’re in his arms again and your fingers tangle in his hair and you grip his shirt. Joel’s hand holds your bicep and then the back of your neck and his arm wraps around your waist. “I love you,” Joel mumbles into your lips and pulls you closer until his body is flush with yours. 

“I love you,” you return, and sling your arms around his shoulders, both hands in his hair as his slides over your face, holding his thumb in your cheek, his eyes squeeze shut. 

How long he’s been waiting to have you like this. 

You’re both sweaty and grimey and there’s a tinge of copper in your scent but Joel appreciates it with the rest of it. He smooths his hand over your tangled hair, bunching it in his hand to keep your face in place for him as he slips his greedy tongue through your teeth. You twist your tongue with his, them becoming their own snaking dance while you pull yourselves desperately closer to each other. Joel takes your face in his hands and, like a dam breaking, tells you again, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in between kisses. In response, you hum into his mouth and wrap your arms tight around him, dragging over his back and into his hair, pressing your bodies even closer together. 

You pull back with hot, heavy breaths, still sliding your hands all over him, and say, “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” and punctuate with a slow sloppy kiss. Joel’s chest swarms and then he hoists you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Feeling your weight fills him with satisfaction he didn’t know he longed for and hums into your mouth, starting for his bedroom with you in his arms. 

The passion develops, as natural and guaranteed as changing weather. The novelty creates a storm that Joel is unprepared for but embraces with awe. The storm develops quick when he drops you onto the bed and you reach up to pull him on top of you by the lapels of his flannel, taking him back to your mouth like you’re starving for it. Joel’s entire body is hot as his hips weigh down over yours. Electricity buzzes over the area of contact and Joel feels himself getting hard, the storm now a hurricane of lust that pushes his hand up your shirt. When you moan, it vibrates through his lips and all the way down to his cock. He comes up to sit on his knees and when he lifts his shirt you follow, eager to see the parts of each other never before revealed. 

“Fuck,” Joel mumbles and returns back down on your body. His hand slides lazily over your torso and he moans into your lips when you reach down for his belt.

“I want you,” you say, and Joel moans again.

“I’m yours, baby.”

You slip his belt open and don’t bother with his buttons or zipper before slipping your hand in to slide over his length. Joel pulls back for only a moment to breathe, then goes back to attacking your lips. His hand reaches down to grip your wrist in a frenzied move, overwhelmed by the feeling of your hand on his hardening cock. 

“You like that?” You ask into his mouth.

“Yes,” is all he can get out, then moans when your hand closes over his base. 

“God, you’re big.”

“You want it?” He slurs. 

“Yes.”

At that, Joel slides his own hand down your pants, palm on your clit while he curves his fingers to feel the wetness already soaking through your underwear. He moans, once again overwhelmed by the want he feels from you. “Yeah, I know you do.”

You remove your hand from him, instead wrapping your legs around him to pull him down, squeezing his hand in, allowing him to feel the details under it. He hums and bites your lip. 

Joel raises up again, using one hand to unbutton and unzip your pants with the other working on his own. Breathing out deeply as you watch him, your hands slide over sides up to over your face and into your hair, reaching up to squeeze the pillows your head rests on. 

A lamp mistakenly left on allows for light for him to view you under. Admiring you, Joel shakes his head and speaks his mind, “Beautiful ain’t enough to describe it.” 

You chuckle and sigh, looking down to watch him tug down your underwear and jeans. You widen your legs for him to tug them down, bending one knee to remove a leg and then the other for him to pull free. Joel doesn't bother with his own, only pulling his down enough to make room for his cock, which bounces out of his lowered boxers. When your eyes flick from it back to his, your body lifts and falls with a deep sigh. Seeing the lust in your eyes, he finds himself unable to take any time with it, and he comes back down on you, slipping his hand to his member, now rock hard, to guide it to your entrance. 

“Yes,” you breath out, once again opening your legs for him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

Joel kisses your lips lightly before pulling away to look through the window of his body above you to the dark mess of curls between your thighs, the muscles of his groin tensing as he enters you. 

“Fuck. you’re tight.”

“You’re big.”

“Too big?”

You shake your head. 

“Good.” And with that, the entirety of his shaft enters you and you both moan.

“Shit.”

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whisper.

Joel groans deeply at your response, then repositions, taking his hand away to set his forearm over the bed, his other hand dragging over your face, resting his thumb on your lip. He watches your face as he starts with long, slow strokes. After a few, he can’t get himself to pull so far back out of you, needing to be inside you and unable to help himself from starting to snap his hips into a fast pace. The force of his full length has you bouncing and you close your eyes, eyebrows furrowed up with your mouth opened wide, pouring out moans. 

“Yeah?” Joel says breathily, “You like that, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,”

“I wanna make you cum, baby,” he says, then messily kisses the corner of your mouth. 

“I want you to cum inside me,” 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up with my cum?” He says, then bites your lip.

It flips up from between his teeth when you reply, “Yes.”

“I wanna make you cum first.” To punctuate, Joel’s pace quickens, loading his full length into you over and over again.

“Joel, feels so good,” you squeeze the words out, eyes still closed and brow pinched up, fingers raking through his hair. 

The feeling of your hands holding his face close to yours and your tight walls around him fulfills Joel’s long lived need to unite your bodies like this and his chest is filled with all the feelings of every moment he’s fantasized about this exact scenario. 

“God, please, fuck me,”

He hums, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Finally, your eyes snap open, locking on his as you careers his face, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,”

Joel reattaches your mouths messily, sliding his tongue around your lips before it finds its way back in, and your nails scratch over his cheeks as you pull him closer. Your moans break the hold in brief intervals, singing them to each other as you fuck. Joel moves a hand down to grip your ass, holding you steady as he ruts into you. 

Pleasure builds inside of him warm and tight and Joel suddenly pulls out, “Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Without pause, he moves back on the bed and settles his mouth between your legs, sliding his hands up your thighs, and as he starts his tongue along your slit, your hands go back to pull at his hair. 

“Oh shit Joel,” he hears you, muffled with your thighs over his ears, and groans into you as he continues to slip his tongue up and down. His head is clamped tighter between your thigh when he sucks your clit and he feels your moans vibrating through you, your fingernails scratching his scalp. He uses the tip of his tongue on the underside of your clit with his lips suctioned around it, and in no time, you’re trembling around him, bobbing your crotch into his mouth. He feels you crying out more than he hears it and only pulls away when you tug him away by his hair. When he looks up, all he sees is your jaw, your head laid back, breasts on display with your back arched up. He pushes himself up, admiring how your toes curl at the end of your spread legs. Joel smiles as your quivering subsides. Crawling back on top of you, he presses his hand over your now soaking wet pussy, carrying out your orgasm with a few more spasms. As soon as he comes to your face, Joel grabs your lips with his again, kissing you sluggishly with your deep exhales tickling his face. 

“Oh my fucking god, Joel,” you say, pulling his face away. 

“Yeah?” He smiles.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, then bring your mouths back together. Then you take yourself away again, fingertips grazing over his cheeks when you say, “I want you inside me again, I want you to cum inside me,”

Eagerly, Joel is already reaching back down for his dick, slicking it over your pussy. “Yeah? You starvin’ for it, ain’t ya?”

“Mhm,” You nod, your eyes dragging up from his lips back to meet his gaze, circling your thumbs over his cheeks. Sweet desperation paints your face with your brow furrowed and lips swollen. You lick into his mouth, bobbing your hips up to tease his tip inside of you. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Joel says as he guides his cock once again into you, “I’ll give you what you want. Just tell me, an’ it’s yours.”

“I want you,” you reply, bucking your hips up to bring him further in. 

“I’m yours.” He whispers, lips brushing yours as he speaks, before finally filling you with his cock. 

“Yeah, more,” you whine as he begins to fuck you again. “Harder,” is music to his ears, and your body jolts on the bed as he obeys. “Like that, like that,” you breath out, eyes closing briefly before opening back up to his, hands still cupping his face. Though you’re not kissing, your hot and heavy breaths create a link between your mouths and you use the remaining space to keep locked on each other's eyes. 

“You feel so good, baby,” Joel tells you, his voice jumping with his pace “I wanna feel you cum again, can’y cum for me again, sweetheart?”

You simply nod, starting to lay out short moans as you tie your legs around him. “You’re so big,” you mewl, and Joel can’t help but lick into your sounds. You whine again, clamping your legs around him tighter. Open mouthed moans part your lips connection, but Joel appreciates the view, watching your eyes squeeze shut and then open again, lips wet with his spit and your own cum. 

Joel groans in appreciation of it all, your sweaty bodies gripping each other’s in every way, him providing for you, making you feel good, making you cum, and from his lips slips again, “I love you.”

Your response is in the hand thrown back to clutch the pillow, eyes screwed shut again with your lips in an O, and Joel replies with harder thrusts, your groins meeting as he bottoms out. Needing to stabilize himself on the rocking bed, Joel’s hand lands on the wall. 

“Gonna cum for me? Such a good girl, doin’ what I ask. Yeah, I can feel you comin’ close baby. Cum for me, darlin’. Cum for me, and then I’ll cum inside you, js’ like you asked. Go on, baby. Ah, fuck.” 

You cry out, gripping Joel’s hair as your head flips back again, legs still keeping Joel locked deep inside of you. As he feels your pussy contract around him, Joel starts to breathe heavier, letting out grunts, groans, and moans as his thrusts get messier, bumping into your harder to a needy, unsteady beat.

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” is his turn to cry out, and, looking down at you, and in the same loud voice, he says, “cum for me baby, cum with me, cum with me.”

Your free hand grabs his wrists as he holds your side, chest jolting with lustful breaths, and then you’re shuddering again, and Joel raises up to grip your sides with both hands. Your orgasms are drawn out as Joel pulls you onto him with deep thrusts, pausing inside of you while he pumps his cum into your tight, quivering sheath. 

When your climaxes subside, you’re left staring at each other, breathing heavily. Joel smiles, then gently lowers himself down to kiss you tenderly. He waits until he’s empty of cum to pull out, cock softening as it rests in the V of your hips. 

“That was fucking amazing,” you say between breathes. 

“You feel better than I ever coulda fuckin’ dreamed.” Joel chuckles, then kisses you one more time before rolling off of you to lie at your side, turning his head to meet you looking back at him.

“You dreamt about that?” You smile.

“Fuck yeah I did.” Joel admits shamelessly. You laugh. “Did you?” 

“Once or twice.” You shrug, chuckling with a toothy smile. Joel chuckles back, then looks up with a heavy sigh. He smiles to himself, then feels your finger on the edge of his lips. He closes his eyes. This is something he’s never felt before, and truly never dreamed. It really is better than anything he ever could have imagined, laying next to you like this, his body still warm, your touch on his lip. Nothing outside of this room exists, nothing over than this bed with you in it. He hums another sigh, then turns his face back to you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You say with a smile. 

Joel takes your wrist with his hand, feeling the muscles move as you continue to pet his face with your finger.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

His hand falls away from your wrist and he rests it on his stomach, stars in his eyes as he gazes back into yours. 

There's a few minutes of silence, but it’s filled with an air between you like a rosy haze of sweet smelling smoke, lit up under golden light. 

Joel supports his head with his hand under his pillow, allowing a better view to stay with your eyes. As he stargazes, he takes a deep breath through his nose and decides to admit, “…I almost said this before,” his mouth pauses open before he continues, “you saved me today, out there… but you saved me before then. You saved me a long time ago. For a… long, long time, I didn’t really know what I was doin’. I know I had to go get Tommy, I just needed to get a car.” He shifts his head to look up, “I still need to get a car.” Then he looks back at you, “We still need to get a car, you know I’m not goin’ without you. But… I was lost. I felt… empty.” Joel swallows, looking over your face, “But then I had you. N’ then I felt like… I was alive again. Not just survivin’. You made me feel… real. I forgot what smilin’ felt like,” Joel chuckles, “until you. All I wanted was to leave. I mean, I still wanna leave here, Bostn’, but then, all I really wanted to be was with you. Anywhere, with you.”

You smile, and then roll to your side, sliding your hand over his chest and kiss him. He closes his eyes but keeps still. Heaven sounds in a cloud passing over him as your sweetness once again blesses his lips. 

“You know, it’s funny how much of that I’ve always felt, too.” You start, still over him, and start to trace over his features with a featherlight touch. “I didn’t have a brother. I just wanted to get out. I was happy to meet you because you were a way out. But… you weren’t just a way out of Boston, you were a way out of… everything. Only for moments at a time, but,  you were. It’s like… I just can’t believe I found you. In the mess of everything, you were there… and I’m just so… grateful, I guess. That’s not the right word… Just… Thank god for you. I kind of think god is dead, after all the… you know, everything, but thank god for you.”

Your words bring tears to his eyes. He allows them to bead in the corners, and you touch them away with your fingertip. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you so much, Joel.’

Joel was something without you, but not much. A knife, a gun, a severed brother, a fractured father, a frightened soul staggering around a broken city. With you, he’s carried back to love, and he can feel softness finding its way back into his veins from a heart inlaid with velvet. 

He may not believe in fate, but Joel likes the idea that he was destined to find you, and you him, and he thanks whatever was responsible for granting him the courage that grabbed him the moment it did so that he could finally tell you what you mean to him, because he knows the fearful man in his core couldn’t do it alone. 

Love, bona fide, is a deep pool in his center that never dried up, but was fortified with pieces of his dark desperation, broken down himself into spikes he assembled around it. But now with you, he surrenders, and, bodies held close, he dips with you into the warmth of his pure waters. 

[soldier-poet-king]

Im...happy?? Even temporarily???

Woke up and laid in bed longer than I should have, but less than I usually do, and while filled with dread, it's LESS dread than usual

Walked to mass at new church, completely bland generic sermon & bland generic music, which is perfect, nobody knows me or is trying to rope me into things or expects things from me, I don't have to pretend I don't absolutely loathe so much of catholic parish culture, I can just, go in, go out, be a nameless face in the pew which is Safe and Uncontroversial. There was even the coolest looking older butch in the pew with me. Docs and leather jacket and all.

Stopped and read on a cafe patio with a coffee and pastry. The sun was out. Nobody was constantly texting me asking where I was. It was me and my iced coffee and silly vampire book.

Checked out the main shopping area, saw all the local grocers and bakeries and small local businesses. I'm not in a suburban box store desert anymore. I may pay slightly more at small businesses but if I want the luxury of this kind of area that's a cost I'm willing (and newly able) to pay. Plus living here means I don't have to own a car and am saving so much on that front that it still works out in my favour financially

Stopped by a little florist, tiny hole on the wall, met the nicest man and his nephew and got tons of plant advice based on my apartment layout and some recommendations for what should be unkillable given my brown thumb. Will absolutely be going back for more plants once I'm fully set up + some for my office

Like. This was unthinkable a year ago. I desperately need to keep my job. So I can keep this. I forgot how good it was to live in an area like this, not endless detached housing sprawl. I can walk everywhere. I lived in an arealike this in uni but my budget was nonexistent (grad school funding woooo). Now that I have a (very small admittedly) degree of financial flexibility??? Im allowed to sit on a patio with a 5$ coffee once a week??? I can pop into little florists and grocers and bakeries if I want?? Nobody is going to judge me for "wasting" money by not buying the absolutely dogshit quality cheapest thing possible??? Or not reporting on my location at all times? I owe no accounting of my every trip out the house?