#you're ignorin' me.

[tolerateit]

i love when my mom goes to bed and says "sing as loud as you want."

[rahhhbananas]

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. miles morales (1610 & 42)

summary. Once Miles arrives on Earth-42, he goes to visit “his” boyfriend.

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, violence, foul language

a/n. Girl that’s not meee!!! 😫

“What the hell was that...?”

Y/n lowered the volume of the TV, straining his neck to catch a glimpse of his dimly lit room. Miles stumbled into the living room, drenched in rain, his eyes wide with a hint of panic. Y/n let out a sigh of relief. "Man, Miles, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Y/n walked toward his slightly trembling boyfriend, a small smile forming on his face. "You took out your braids? Well, I'm definitely not doing them again." Miles frowned, his eyes welling up with tears. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. Y/n looked at him, perplexed. "Sorry? For what?" Miles continued, disregarding Y/n's question. "I'm sorry for being careless, for neglecting you. I should have cherished what we had, but I got caught up with Gwen, and it cost me something important. I'm so sorry..." Miles's voice trailed off, tears coming down his face. Y/n stared at his boyfriend in disbelief before bursting into laughter, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Miles, baby, what telenovelas have you been watching? And who the hell is Gwen...?" Y/n settled back onto the couch, motioning for Miles to join him.

Miles looked at Y/n, confusion etched on his face. "You don't remember? The huge fight we had?" he asked, clearly puzzled. Y/n whipped away the tears. "Miles, the only thing we've argued about in the past few weeks is which flavor of cake we should make... I don't remember any major fight." Y/n picked up the remote, flipping through the channels, skipping his favorite show since he knew Miles didn't enjoy it. "Wait, go back. I love this show," Miles exclaimed, grabbing the remote from Y/n's hand. Now, it was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "What! No, Miles, you literally threw a bagel at me the last time I put this on!" Y/n chuckled. "A bagel? What is with me and throwing bagels...?” Miles muttered, "Was it at least buttered?" Y/n rolled his eyes, getting up and heading to the kitchen. "I'm getting popcorn. If you're really into this show, we'll be here for a while." Miles nodded, satisfied with the response.

While waiting for the popcorn, Y/n decided to browse through his phone when a text from Miles popped up. Y/n glanced at the living room and smiled before focusing on the text:

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Who you with?

Y/n I know you see this.

You fr ignorin me?

😐

Y/n remained frozen, staring at the text for exactly three minutes, desperately hoping it was some kind of twisted joke. Snapping back to reality, Y/n looked down at the message and quickly gave a response.

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Is this a joke?

Miles. I’m with you rn

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Why would I joke abt this? 😑

I’m with my Uncle Aaron rn

Does he look exactly like me?

Get away from him until I get there

Before Y/n could hit send, "Miles" entered the kitchen, questioning the delay. "What's taking you so long? Is the microwave not working?" "Miles" peered through the transparent part, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening. Y/n swiftly grabbed his phone, retreating a few steps, attempting to avoid any suspicion. "Uh, yeah, maybe you can fix it? I need to use the bathroom," Y/n replied, never taking his eyes off the impostor. Once out of "Miles'" sight, Y/n rushed toward the bathroom. "Damn it, why didn't I grab a knife!" Y/n cursed, making sure to lock the door behind him. "Is this one of them Mandela catalogue shits? Oh, please, let it not be!" Y/n whispered anxiously, crawling into the bathtub and opening his phone to find multiple notifications from Miles.

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Hello???

Y/n

Answer me

Where is he?

Are you hiding?

Get something to defend yourself

It’s gonna alright, I swear

I’m hiding

Are you almost here?

Miles?

Y/n’s thumbs hovered over the screen, his hands trembling. His mind going blank, until he heard a knock at the bathroom door. A voice came from the other side, “Babe?” Y/n got up, putting his ear to the door “Miles?” The voice on the other side responded “Who else? You doing good in there?” Y/n noticed the lack of Miles’ accent, so he crossed out the option that it was his Miles. He still decided to play it off until his Miles gets here “Y-yeah…I just feel a little sick, that’s all. I’ll be out in a minute.” He heard a hum from the other side, “Alright. You aren’t mad about that thing, are you?” Y/n furrows his brows, “N-no, I told you I don’t even remember it…”.

"Miles" chuckled. "Alright, hurry up. We're already halfway through an episode," Y/n nodded, listening to the fading sound of footsteps. A notification caught his attention—a text from the real Miles.

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

Mi Tesoro❤️💋

we’re here

wya?

I’m in the bathroom

Good

Stay there

I’ll come get you

Y/n followed the instructions, remaining inside the bathroom. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, finding solace in the fact that Miles was strong and capable of handling weird situations. After all, he had chosen to date Y/n, so he must possess some level of resilience. Opening the conversation with Miles, Y/n scrolled through their messages, a twinge of worry still lingering in his chest. What if Miles couldn't handle this? "I shouldn't be thinking like this," Y/n muttered, attempting to push the negative thoughts aside.

Another voice echoed from the other side of the door, calling out to Y/n. "Y/n, Bebé, are you in there?" It was Miles. Relief washed over Y/n, as he quickly opened the door to see his boyfriend. Without hesitation, Y/n pulled Miles into a tight hug, tears of joy streaming down his face. "Oh my god! You have no idea how scared I was. I thought he were one of those creepy anomalies that impersonate people." Miles returned the embrace, looking at Y/n with a puzzled expression. "The ones from TikTok?" He chuckled, finding humor in Y/n's paranoia. Y/n nodded, lifting his head from Miles' shoulder. "I can't believe I kissed a complete stranger..." Y/n sighed, still in disbelief. Miles pulled back slightly, his frown evident. "You did what?" he questioned. Y/n quickly backtracked, "Nothing... Just forget it." Pulling Miles back into the warm hug, Y/n chose to ignore the current gaze Miles directed at him.

“We’re gonna talk about that.”

“No we aren’t.”

[lavenderphrog]

Thinkin abt ghost...

When he first saw you, found out you joined task force 141, he thought you were going to be another one of them girls who where chasing after him. Another one of those girls who openly flirt with him.

So, when you weren't, he was surprised.

His face contorted into confusion when your face didn't blush around his presence. When you only threw him a glance instead of staring at him. When you scooted away from him as he approached, interrupting the conversation between you and Soap.

And, when you ignored him, he was furious.

His drill orders fell to deaf ears as he ordered you around in training. He then crossed his arms, his face scrunched in anger under his mask, barking orders and throwing insults as you continued to ignore him.

He began starting conversation with you, cornering you outside the locker room, asking why you were ignoring him, and you had the audacity to walk off without answering.

This went on for weeks, months even, before you finally got called into his office. You went through the twists and turns of the hallways before stopping in front of the doorway of his office. Ghosts office.

You turned the doorknob and walked inside. "You wanted me?" You questioned.

"Yea." He cleared his throat after he spoke before looking at you up and down, surveying your body out of tactical gear. There was a glimpse of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"I wanna know why you've been ignorin' me - yer lieutenant." This sounded more like a demand, like he needed to know. His eyes squinted as he looked back up at your face.

"I'll be blunt," you stated, looking down at the floor as your eyebrows shot up. Your eyes then moved back toward him and you jutted your hip out. "I don't like you. You're cocky and snarky and I don't like you. It doesn't matter if you're my lieutenant or not, I won't act like I'm best buds with someone I don't like."

Before he could respond however, you took your leave, one foot taking place in front of the other.

It was clear you didn't like him, yet, after so much time, he wanted you to. He wanted you to like him.

He never knew how this progressed, never know why it progressed this way. Yet it didn't seem to matter as you got called off to go home for a week — same time he did.

It didn't matter as he found you, after you've been laid off. You were in the store, in an oversized hoodie that barely covered your legs, giving him a view of the lower part of the round plumpness of your laced panty covered ass as you bent over, picked up a soda, placed in in your hands along with other things you were holding, and paid for it at the cashier.

It didn't matter as he followed you home, trenched through you backyard, careful not to step on any of the fancy flowers you obviously planted, and stood outside your window.

His gaze appeared on you, who was watching TV — some horror film displaying on the monitor, a graphic scene of blood and gore being shown. Your hoodie was off, revealing a skimpy black tank top and the panties he saw earlier hugging your skin.

You turned the TV off and began walking to a different area. He circled around your house, following your movement as you lead yourself to a room in which he believed to be your bedroom, the bed inside the room leading him to believe this.

His hands went to the windowsill of the house as he watched you, silently grateful for the privacy fence you installed, as no one could see him watching you. His eyes roamed over your body and he had to take a breath in.

Who knew you had such a pretty body to match with such a pretty face.

You plopped yourself on the bed, the bed diviting under your weight as you did so, and went under your covers. You turned onto your belly, letting out a sigh as you thought about Ghost once again since you've been laid off.

You were torn between what to do. He was your lieutenant and you hated him. He was reserved yet egotistical because of how many girls drooled over him... yet every time you thought about him, you could feel a pulsing in your core, a primal need for him. You were playing this façade that you hated him when it was the exact opposite, the pulsing you were currently feeling reminding you of this.

You reached under your pillow until you felt something hard yet elastic. Your face scrunched up in embarrassment. You brought it out and became even more embarrassed as you looked at the purple vibrator in your hands. You haven't used this thing in months.

Yet that embarrassment quickly faded as you pressed the button attached to it, turning it on, and pressed it to your clit. A jolt of electricity went through you as you felt a familiar warmth spread through your skin.

You let out a soft moan as you rolled it over your clit, a shudder going through your body as you did so.

Ghosts eyes widened at the sight of you doing this before him. It was beautiful. He couldn't stop the ache between his legs, causing his pants to grow uncomfortably tight. He let out a pant of breath as he watched you continue through your window, his grip on the edge of the window tightening.

A jolt of pleasure went through your skin and you inserted the vibrator into your wet cunt, grabbing the pillow and gripping it tightly. Your hand trailed from the pillow to your breast, kneading it. Now palming himself through his pants, Ghost almost lost his mind as he heard you moan out his name. His eyes widened.

You did like him.

Fuck.

His eyes almost rolled back and he almost soiled his pants as he threw his head back, the baklava he was wearing muffling his quiet moans. His face scrunched as he watched you pump the vibrator in and out of yourself, the fast thrusts causing you to moan out his name over and over again, almost like a chant.

You gripped the edge of the bed as you leaned of your stomach, sitting up. Your face scrunched and you threw your head back as you felt the muscles in your abdomen tighten.

You started pumping fast and leaned onto your back, unknowingly giving Ghost a perfect view of yourself. Your hand moved from the edge of the bed to your face, cupping your own cheek as your eyes scrunched closed.

You then slowed down as you felt a wave of pleasure run under your skin, riding yourself through your orgasm as you panted out breaths. Ghost was letting pants of breath as well, soiling his pants to the visual enjoyment of you pleasing yourself.

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter three, full machine)

‘I'm a forest fire, you're the kerosene. I had a life here before you, but now it's burnin'. I know I know better and you're ignorin' me, still, if you asked me to run away, i'd go easily’

summary; you know you have a bad history with relationships, so to try not to get in your own head when you stop hearing from spencer.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset.

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

2.1k words.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Spencer. You understood the demands of his job, that it kept him busy and a lot of the time you were fine with that — you enjoyed your space and your own personal time. You had never had an issue with him being gone on cases before but he would always text you or call you when he got the chance.

And never had he been on a case for two weeks. Not that you knew of anyways.

It was difficult not to jump to conclusions and ruin the idea of him you had. It was difficult not to shut down. It was difficult to not think ‘how could you be so stupid’ and you were trying really really hard to not repeat past mistakes and project past relationships onto this one.

But it wasn’t even a relationship.

It wasn’t like he had talked to you at all. The first two days after he left for his case he had sent you numerous texts, telling you how sorry he was for having to leave early, he called you on the first night and stayed on the phone until you had fallen asleep. Everything was normal. There was nothing that set off any warning bells in your head.

That made you feel even worse.

You hadn’t spammed him with texts, nor calls. You hadn’t messaged him since the last text you sent was left on delivered. You wouldn’t beg for him to reply to you, you wouldn’t beg for an explanation on what you might’ve done wrong. You’d rather live with the lack of closure than further damage to your pride.

But then there was a part of you that wondered if maybe something happened to him, a big part of you worried that something happened to him — actually. You tried to ignore the lingering dwindle of anxiety in your stomach as you carried on with your day to day life. You tried so hard to ignore it.

But two weeks was a long time to ignore an aching gut feeling, one that kept you up at night and never seemed to go away.

Could you have called Spencer? Yes. You could’ve. But did you want to risk the call being ignored and every lingering doubt in your mind being proven correct and then be embarrassed about it? God no.

You were a shame spiral when you instead texted Penelope, who had given you her number when she saw you and Spencer at the grocery store, the last time you had seen him. She begged you to reach out when she got back so you two could arrange to hang out.

You weren’t even sure if they were back. Normally you would know that by Spencer coming over to your house at some ridiculous time and delving into your arms like it was the only place he had ever been able to call home, but he didn’t come over this time.

It was a simple text, ‘Hey Penelope, how are you? I haven’t heard from Spencer in a while so i just wanted to make sure he was okay’

It was good enough. You didn’t want to explain how you just wanted to make sure he was alive so you didn’t feel guilty for hating him. You didn’t exactly want to hate somebody who was dead. Yet a twisted part of you hoped that something had happened to him, because at least then he wasn’t just ignoring you.

What you weren’t expecting was your phone to light up with an incoming call from the one and only Penelope Garcia. You answered it, partly scared that she was calling because texting you to tell you that Spencer was dead seemed insensitive.

“Hello?” You answered. The place in your bed warm from the weight of your body as you shuffled slightly. It wasn’t exactly late, but it was past evening times. You heard mumbling and shuffling on the other side of the phone, before a happy voice.

“Hello my sweet angel!” Penelope greeted you, even in your doubtful mood the warm greeting from the sweet women made a smile line your lips. “I got your message — I’m a little confused. He is fine, he just left work” She answered.

Okay. Not dead.

“Oh” It passed through your lips because now you were just overwhelming confused. “Uh- How long have you guys been back?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer you would receive. You were hoping she would tell you they had only just gotten back, and that the case had been so busy that nobody had time to text anybody.

“A little over a week.” She answered. That made your chest tighten, a lot. Almost painfully. You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to give the situation the satisfaction of your tears. You didn’t want to give Spencer any more power over you.

“Right. Okay. Thanks.” It came out shakier than you intended it to be and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. You took pride in your ability to not care about things like this, you didn’t get emotionally involved because of this reason. Your mind was overwhelmed with an abundance of doubts and self depreciation. Embarrassment. You were so embarrassedz

“Did Spencer not tell you? He has been stroppy all week. We thought maybe he had messed up and you were mad at him.” The words came out as a playful joke, but you found it humourless. Because although you weren’t mad at him, you were now.

You wondered if you even had a right to be mad. Clearly he wasn’t dead, so he was just ignoring you. You hated how much that thought made your heart hurt an overwhelming amount. You hated how you had now let someone in enough for their absence to have an effect on you.

“He.. No. He hasn’t told me” You mumbled out, your voice representing how distant your mind was from this conversation. A million different thoughts and each one as bad as the last. You didn’t want to tell his co-worker and one of his friends that he had just up and ghosted you, you didn’t think it was fair, but you could basically hear the confusion and concern lacing her voice. “He hasn’t talked to me at all in over a week..”

“What?” Her response came out hard and fast, tone laced with clear shock and confusion. “Thats- I mean it was a rough case but.. not.. that rough — Maybe he is just overwhelmed? Have you tried calling him? He can get distracted easily.” She rambled, trying just as hard as you were to find a valid explanation for his sudden disappearance.

But you both knew Spencer. Or you thought you did. You knew enough to know about his memory. He didn’t just forget. Or maybe he did. Were you forgettable for him? Were you something so minority important that it slipped through the tight grasp of his memory. Oh that wasn’t a fun thought.

“No- uhm.. I’m not going to call him.. If he wants to talk to me he would.” You muttered. You wanted to believe that, you wanted to not care as much as you were making it out to seem you didn’t. You wanted to feel casually about it. About him.

You really regretted kissing him two months ago.

You wished you could be the type of person who believed that was no point dwelling, the type of person who would be grateful it happened rather than sad it was over — but you just weren’t. You didn’t think you were capable of getting over someone unless you hated them with every fibre of your being. Unless they hurt you to the point of no forgiveness. You couldn’t be glad it happened — not when it ended like this.

It always ended like this, you knew that from the start.

“Im so sorry. I have no idea whats going on with him!” She apologised in his behalf and it was almost funny to you. How come a girl you met once seemed to have more remorse than the guy you had (stupidly) falling in love with.

You shook your head, but she couldn’t see you. “Don’t apologise. Its fine. Its not a big deal really. We weren’t much of anything anyways.” Maybe the words came out fast enough for you to believe them, maybe they were to try and convince yourself that it was true — that it was how you felt.

It seemed it was how he felt.

“Oh sweetheart” Penelope synthesised. “How about this — We can have a massive movie night at mine sometime over the weekend and if you haven’t heard from him by then, then we can talk about how bad his eyesight is and the amount of sugar he puts in his coffee” She mumbled.

You let out a laugh, you wished that his bad eyesight and way too much sugar was the worst you could say about him right now. Your opinions on the boy seemed a lot stronger. Although it made your heart ache that it was his friend apologising and making you feel better.

“I’d like that.” You said, pulling your knees closer to your chest as your curled in on yourself in your bed. You hated how cold and empty it felt without his presence by your side. Even with the same glow of your fairy lights, the room was lit with the same warmth when it was just you.

You were mad. If you could only use one emotion to describe how you felt it would be mad. Embarrassment, disappointment, hurt — they’d all be thrown out the window. You were just so mad.

At him, for making you believe that maybe things would be different, for letting you get close to him, allowing you to trust him, open up to him. You were mad at him for giving and taking like it was some sort of game. You were mad at his lack of communication. You were mad at how he once looked at you like you held so much value only to leave as if you were worthless.

But you were more mad at yourself. You had made it a rule not to date. You had a life, a good happy life before. You busied yourself with work and going to the library to read and get a moment of peace beneath the shelves of books, you enjoyed getting your coffee’s from the small cafe on the corner in the morning, and dancing with your small group of friends at the club on the weekends, and then Spencer came along and now all those things you enjoyed so much seemed dimmer without knowing you’d see him at the end of the day.

You were frustrated because you knew better than to let someone get close to you. You knew how codependent you became on the existence of another by your side. You knew this. You knew all of this. You knew you were cursed, unloveable if you really wanted to hurt your own feelings. You knew this.

Yet you let yourself get sucked into his sweet words and empty promises, his soft touch and warm embrace. You let yourself believe that things might be different this time.

And god were you mad about that.

But most of all, you were mad about the fact that despite all of this. All of the doubt and anger swirling through your veins and leaving every harsh breath that existed your lips, you didn’t hate him. You were mad at him — so mad, but there wasn’t a single part of you that would ever say you hated Spencer Reid.

Not optionally. If it was up to you, you would go back in time and you wouldn’t have let him get close enough for the line to be between love and hate.

You worried, still. About if he was okay, what he was doing. You hated that. You hated that he had made you soft.

You hated that you let him make you soft.

You hated that you still wanted him to reach out to you, apologise and say he had just been so busy, or say he just needed time after the case. You hated that if he showed up on your door step right now you’d probably let him in without a word — whereas if this was prior to six months ago you would’ve slammed the door in his face and told him to get fucked.

Love didn’t come easy for you. But loving Spencer was the easiest thing you have ever done. Hating him was near impossible.

[iiwaijime]

repost from old acc! reblogs are appreciated<3

anytime, anywhere ; megumi fushiguro x reader

wc ; 574 | content ; femcoded(?) gender neautral reader, swearing, kissing, ooc, multiple scenarios set in one universe, suggestive positioning, can be read as a standalone or a part two to this

summary ; relationship things!!

when yuuji finds out that you and megumi are together, he almost screams. he's raving like a madman–saying everything from i’m happy for you! to what the fuck do you mean you're dating now, so i spent like three hours worrying for nothing? 

by the time he finishes, megumi has an awkward smile on his face, and you're laughing bashfully. but yuuji has to admit that side by side on the couch, the two of you do look cute together. he leaves soon after, saying something about giving the newlyweds space. maybe he also feels guilty about the fact that he accidentally told you about megumi's terribly intense crush on you.

and when you're finally alone, megumi lifts your linked hands and shyly kisses yours.

you yawn, pushing yourself upright on your desk. there's still a considerable amount of time until class ends, but you're pretty sure you're gonna pass out before it does. glancing behind your shoulder, you look for your boyfriend, megumi, only to find him staring back at you. he looks tired too, but when your eyes meet his face breaks out into a lazy grin–one that leaves you weak in the knees.

as soon as your teacher leaves the classroom, students pour out of the large classroom. you wait, and so does megumi, until the room's almost empty. it's then that he approaches you, picking up your bag with one hand as you get up. intertwining your fingers together, he kisses the side of your head gently. 

“so, what's for lunch?” he asks.

before you can answer, though, he's shutting you up already. “coffee isn't lunch, baby.”

you pout, leaning into his touch. “whatever.”

you flop down on the bed beside megumi, glaring at nothing in particular. you've been ignoring him for over an hour now, but he's just not getting the hint. you cough loudly. he still stares at his phone, typing something on it. you cough again, in a way that's clearly fake. this time, he bites.

“what's wrong?”

you frown back at him, silent. megumi raises an eyebrow curiously, turning to you. within a second, he's maneuvered you into a position where he's hovering over you, and you're on your back beneath him. 

“oh-” you gasp, surprised, but he cuts you off. 

“everythin’ okay?” despite your position being inherently sexual, both his voice and his touch are soft. you stare at the tv playing behind you, resolute in your mission to ignore him. he tilts your head up so that you're forced to look him in the eyes.

“hmm?”

“what date is it?” you demand.

“what?” he's confused. 

“what date is it?” you repeat.

“the fourth of february?”

“and?” 

“and?”

“and the 14th?”

“oh!” he falls back onto the bed beside you with a wide grin on his face. “should've just told me, pretty.”

you pout. “i tried.”

“naaah,” he draws out the singular word, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. “telling me and ignorin’ me are two different things.” [im so sorry if ur bald]

you want to move away from his touch, but there's just something that keeps you from doing so.

“so,” he smiles lazily, “you gonna be my valentine or what, baby?”

the way he says it is just so damn attractive, and you can't help but blush as you nod. and when he pulls you into his arms, you hear the the words he whispers into your hair. “was gonna ask you soon anyways, sweetheart.”

[kairismess]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ THERE'S ONLY ONE BED...

featuring atsumu miya.

a low whistle escaped his lips as he set your bags down on the low cabinets of your shared hotel room. "gotta be grateful for the tight budget this season," the blonde mutters under his breath with a sneaky grin and a low chuckle, with your eyes gazing down at the single king sized bed with white duvet covers in the middle of the room that was perched against the wall.

you rolled your eyes, clearly hearing him relish in the fact there's only one bed to share between you two. you set your things down while atsumu relaxed on the bed, his toned legs crosses and his muscular arms behind his head in bliss, while a satisfied smirk rested on his face.

"where're ya goin', sugar?" he asked you with a cheeky smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. you gave him a quick side eye and shrugged, taking your coat off, much to his delight. "i'm fixing our stuff," "why, 'sit broken?" he asked in such a sarcastic manner, sitting up and looking at you with a silly little smile on his face.

you sighed as you unpacked your bags, with atsumu chuckling once more as he gets up from the bed and crouches down behind you, wrapping his large palms around your waist. "so cute when yer ignorin' me... and the fact we gotta share the bed t'night..." "i'm going to get another room," you joked in a deadpanned tone, making atsumu whine and embrace you.

"yer no fun!" he exclaimed, pouting. you huffed and pulled away from him, making him pout even more. he didn't want to say it, but he truly wanted you to be with him in the same bed tonight; even if you two wouldn't do anything too crazy, he just wanted to be next to you, just to feel you close to him, his arms wrapped around you–that's all that can make him happy tonight.

as you two got in the bed, atsumu did his very best to keep away from you as much as possible, for your comfort. he gave your preferred side of the bed, most of the blanket area, and kept his distance as much as possible. "alright, well... g'night, shrimpy," he whispered to you as he closed the bedside lamp, trying to calm his hammering heart in his chest at the fact you're sharing a bed together.

by some miracle, you turned around, faced him in the midst of the darkness, and moved yourself closer to atsumu. much to his confusion and fluster, you made his heart race a thousandfold when you asked him, "why aren't you hugging me?" placing his hands around your waist and wrapping your arms around his neck, atsumu could feel his face heat up and his throat go dry as he's living out his dreams, right here, right now.

"well, didn't think you'd want me to..." he muttered shyly. you pressed your nose against his, sighing softly, making atsumu's breath hitch in his throat. "of course i want you to..." you replied, making all of atsumu's worries melt away, with him shakily asking you, "really?" and you nodding in reassurance.

that night, atsumu slept well with you in his arms, and occasionally, him in your arms. atsumu loved being spooned by you, it made his heart flutter. sure, he hadn't really admitted everything he was feeling about you, but he figured that, little by little he'd be able to tell you.

and hopefully... hopefully, you'd feel the same way, and hold him like this every time you two are laying together–the way he dreams things to always be between you two when the time comes.

[satansindexfinger]

Giving the Brothers the Cold Shoulder After an Arguement

Warnings: self-deprecation and allusions to depression (Levi)

Summary: After getting into a heated arguement with your demon partner, you decide ignoring them is the best way to handle it. When do forced to interact you remain cordial but it's obvious to anyone you aren't letting up.

Lucifer; Mammon; Levi; Satan; Asmo

Lucifer

Two can play that game. If you think Lucifer, the representation of pride himself, is going to break and come crawling back to you? You've got another thing coming.

He's more than willing to reflect your withdrawn attitude, and he does it exceptionally well. If nobody knew about your relationship prior they would think you're just mere acquaintances.

Of course, he will keep up the appearance of formality by engaging in minimal conversation like, "MC, would you pass the salt?", "Diavolo mentioned he wanted you to attend today's council meeting.", "Don't you think it's too late for you to be roaming the halls?"

But nobody can miss the ruby glare, that he convinces himself is subtle, he sends your way every time.

Unfortunately it will take awhile for Lucifer to get over his ego enough to properly address the situation. The more stubborn you are at ignoring him, the more irritated he gets, and the more determined he is to keep the apathetic facade up.

It's the accumulation of small things that eventually get him to reconsider. How empty his bed feels when you're not in it. How listening to music isn't nearly as relaxing without his human leaning their head on his shoulder. How the coffee tastes bitter when not prepared by you. How your avoidant gaze makes his heart sink.

His brothers, and even Diavolo, can feel the anger seeping through his skin as they would get the brunt of it.

After a surprisingly long amount of time, Lucifer will break. He'd make up some valid excuse that involves you visiting his study, and once you go in he will make sure you are not getting out. Not until you hear him out.

"How much longer are you planning on handling this like a child?! Is this how you deal with confrontation? By avoiding it?"

The demon catches himself and his stern glare almost instantly turns into a regretful pout. He recognizes it's his pride and ego that got you both to this point with a shake of his head. He stares at the floor for a few beats before lifting his head up with furrowed brows.

"I... I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I never thought I would be affected by some human ignoring me but this only made me realize you're not just some human to me. I should've insisted we talk about this properly before resorting to this. So, would you allow me to make things right? Let's talk... I can't bare to be apart from you like this."

Mammon

He's quick to pout and exaggerate how much he's ignoring you back. Verbally.

"Pfff, as if I'd care if MC doesn't wanna talk ta me. Can someone tell them how much I'm ignoring them and how I dont wanna see their stupid face ever again? 'Cause I don't!"

It only lasts for a day. It takes Mammon going up to your door, about to break in and excitedly drag you out somewhere, as usual, until it hits him that oh shit. You're still meant to be mad at each other. His hand hovers over the door knob for a bit until he sulkingly leaves.

Getting ignored by you is honestly killing him. As much as he tries to act like he doesn't care, it's beyond obvious how much he's trying to get your attention back. The lingering looks and his overall childlike whining is more than enough to indicate he is missing you. His brothers are beyond tired of his complaning, too.

He can't restrain himself from busting your door down and demanding you stop giving him the cold shoulder. It's been three days! Surely you aren't mad at him anymore and you can go back to cuddling, right?!

"C'mooooon, MC! I'm sorry I made ya mad, I'll make up fer it! Anythin'! So just stop ignorin' me already.. I miss you."

He's aware of how desperate he's being and it makes him red from embarrassment, but he'd rather be honest than go through this torture. He'll keep one in mind to be more considerate in the future so it wouldn't resort to him being avoided by you ever again.

Leviathan

Levi's the one who would take it the hardest out of everyone. Boy's self-esteem is fragile enough as it is and getting ignored by you would just shatter whatever remainder he had of it. Don't expect to see him out of his room for awhile.

Henry's getting a front row seat to Levi's self-deprecation galore. Of course he made you so mad you don't want to talk to him! He's surprised you even spent time around him in the first place! Why did he ever think you'd stick around his gross, annoying, socially inept otaku self? He did this to himself, right, Henry?!

At this point Levi's forgotten what you two even argued about; he's too busy holing himself up in his room and trying to distract racing thoughts with games and anime. It doesn't feel the same without his player two though. He's just going through the motions without paying full attention to what he's playing/watching.

It goes on for a week or so until one of the brothers has to step in and convince you to go check up on him. As mad as you are at him still, everyone knows you're the only one Levi will answer the door to. He's been falling behind on his assignments, not even coming out for meals (thanks to his snack stash).

You're surprised to find his door unlocked. You spot him in his bed/bathtub, clutching at a pillow, looking absolutely miserable. He lifts his head up to chew you out for bargning in until he realizes it's you. He gets up so suddenly he almost falls over.

"M-MC?? What are y-you doing here?! Did my brothers send you here...? Because I know you'd rather die than see me; I screwed up so you're finally tired of me. You don't have to try to make me feel better. Just go tell them I'm fine."

Just looking at him makes you feel bad, no matter how pissed you were. It takes a lot of convincing that you do not wish he was dead and that you just want to talk. Levi will be apologizing every few words, possibly cry, but after a thorough conversation he will calm enough to reevaluate what started this.

Satan

Satan will be furious enough during your heated exchange as it is; so much so he would force you out of whichever room you're in so you don't have to witness him tearing it to shreds. He's already feeling guilty for losing his composure around you but after you start ignoring him completely??

Man's going to need a two hour session of letting out pent up rage in his room every day this goes on for. Of course, he will not let any of it show in public. Especially around you.

Much like the eldest, he will remain cordial with you. Not so much to save face as to prove that he is a-okay without you, and that this doesn't bother him at all. Even though he is absolutely not okay and it bothers him to an absurd degree.

Unlike Lucifer, however, it takes him much less time to swallow his pride and talk to you. He recognizes you're both dealing with a silly arguement in your own childish way and have to deal with it by having a civilized conversation.

Definitely not because he looked up heaps of books and resources on couple disagreements and how to fix them.

"Listen. This has gone on for far too long, so don't you think it's about time we settle this? I'm sorry I lost my temper. It wasn't right of me. I don't like this distance we have right now.. let's fix it. I will hear you out properly this time. As long as you can do the same for me."

Surpsingly very mature and understanding about not just the cause of the arguement, but why you chose to avoid him. He promises to do better and give you both time to cool down if you were to ever have an arguement again so it doesn't end in you taking these drastic measures.

Asmodeous

This is just a phase, right? You were just being overdramatic in the moment and you'll be back to showering him with attention soon! Right? How could you stay mad at his beautiful face for long?

Asmo will delude himself into believing the above so strongly. He will continue to act as he normally does around you, all cuddly and affectionate, thinking your attitude is you just playing hard-to-get.

"Awwww, cmon, MC! You can stop acting upset now! Although your pouty attitude is really cute~"

When you keep making it clear you want nothing to do with him for the time being, the avatar of lust is internally shattering. He thrives off of your attention. Having it taken away is worse than withdrawal. Not that he will make it obvious the first few days.

Seeing that clinginess isn't helping him, he will attempt to make you jealous by alluding to his fanbase and how lucky any one of them would be to have him. Ironically this backfires as it turns you even colder to him. He is at a loss and at his breaking point. What else can he possibly do?!

It all boils down to Asmo getting tipsy at a party one night and seeking you out. Crying, clinging to your clothes, blubbering about how lonely he is without you, and what he would do to get your grace back.

"Darling, please!! I miss you so much, I don't think I can take it! I love you so so much, just please look at me in the eyes again! You still love me more than anything, right? Whatever I did to make you mad I'll show you I didn't mean it! Just let me. I want to feel your love again... can't be myself without it."

It's a shame he has to be under the influence to spill what he's really thinking, but it manages to soften your resolve enough. Expect to get pampered and spoiled to hell for weeks as that's his way of making things right.

[forestshadow-wolf]

"AH DON'T KNOW! Captain." Soap snapped, adding the honorific a moment later like an afterthought. "Jus'- ah'm ignorin' it an' hopein' it goes away." He huffs.

"'Hope' you're gonna 'hope' it goes away. You know it doesn't work that way, right?" Price scrutinized.

"Yeah, well what other choice do I have?"

"You could tell him."

@thejacketscloset @queermentaldisaster have fun :)

Soap scoffed at the mere suggestion. "What? So he can have a laugh? He doesnae do this, Price. And even if he did, it wouldnae be fer me." He crossed his arms petulantly.

They'd been fighting about it for the last fourty-five minutes now. Price apparently doesn't care about the fraternization, only focused on playing matchmaker. Not that he's not glad price isn't kicking him out, but I'd be a hell of a lot simpler.

"He h- He would. For you. Only you."

It's not exactly a secret. The thing that is definitely not a crush that he has for Ghost. But it's not exactly spoken either. And he's about 86.77% sure that Ghost is either unaware of it, or is politely ignoring it for him.

"Oh, yer really wankin' oot yer arse, noo, Cap. He wouldnae." His accent coming out thick with agitation.

"Well, regardless you have to do something, Soap. We both know it. You won't survive 'til next month if something doesn't change."

"Like what?" Soap stressed, Price tried to cut him off, but soap pressed on. "Capt- Captain. C'mon, really, what am I s'ppos'd t' do? Ah cannae exactly ask him tae fuck me, an tell me t' kill mah-self, and even if ah could it wouldnae do nothin' but make it worse."

"If you'd just listen to what I'm saying.." price griped, it sounded like he grumblesmd something else under his breath as well, but soap was too worked up to bother asking.

"Yeah and have me gutted like a fish. And ah'd let him. Price, I'd let him." He was almost pleading, for what? He didn't know. "Then ye'd be down a damn good soldier. And ah'm pretty sure you're no' allowed to keep Ghost around either after tha', legally dead or not."

"He won't gut you." Price chastised him. "Look if you won't tell him, or do something about it, then I won't risk your life on the field either." The man sighed.

"Wha- You're sidelinein' me?!" He sputtered, "ye cannae do that."

"I can, and I will if something doesn't change some time in the next week. And I will be watching." The tone in the captain's voice left no room for argument. "Dismissed."

Soap did NOT sulk down the hallway, back to his room to change into gym clothes, and out to the running track. John Mactavish does not sulk.

He was probably about three and a half laps away from running himself ragged when he felt Gaz jog up beside him.

"Roach says you're getting benched next week."

"Roach needs to learn when to bugger off." Soap huffed. They lapse into patterned breathing for a moment, but Gaz just can't let him wallow, can he?

"Is it because of the Gh-"

"Yes its because of the Ghost thing, okay?" He cuts the brit off, "and its not for sure, just... yeah okay, maybe it's for sure."

"...Price is right though, you could just tell him."

"Jesu- does bugboy tell you everything, or what?" Soap groans, they'd slowed to more of a slow jog now. "You know what- don't answer that. And you know as well as I do that ah cannae."

"I don't, actually." Gaz ignores his little comments. "You haven't seen the way he looks at you. And Roach says he talks about you." He plows on before Soap can get a word in, "the same way you talk to me about him."

"Gaz, he doesnae look at me in any sort of way." He deadpans. He's properly runned out now, they wonder off the track to stretch before hitting the showers.

"Dude- I'm telling you he does!" Gaz knocks their shoulders together with a playful grin.

"An' ah'm tellin' you he doesnae." Soap reciprocates.

"C'mon, man, the whole base sees it. It's like you've hung the moon and stars themselves, to him."

"Yeah, right." Soap laughs, disbelieving. "I'm more of an annoyance, than anything else to him."

"Yeah well, look, when it turns out I'm right I want a full batch of apology cookies, and I get to tell you I told you so."

"Sure, whatever." Soap agrees easily, confident in his own assessment. They part ways at the showers, both having their routines and dities to fulfill.

"Gary says Price is probably benching you at the end of the week, wanna explain that?" Ghost is nonchalantly leaning against the wall across from his door, seemingly waiting for him.

"That little vent dwelling twerp, just cannae keep his mouth shut can he-" soap sighs, unlocking his door, using the action to hide the thick lump he swallowed. "I'm nae getting benched." Probably..... he just needs to figure his shit out.

He pushes off the wall to follow soap into his room. "Is this about you taking all those solo missions? And how you've been doing your best to avoid me for months now?"

Yes- "No. Price is just being a numpty." He says, tossing his keys on the desk. He sits on his bed to unlace his boots.

"And your sure?" Ghost raises an eyebrow at him, he can tell from the way the mask shifts ever so Slightly. He's sitting in his desk chair now, facing him. "'cus uh.. I think Gary would say otherwise."

"Gary is a snitch, an' he doesnae ken how ta keep his mouth shut." He says pulling one boot off, and starting on the other

"He says there's something that the others are trying to convince you to tell me."

Soap grimaces as he pulls off his other boot, setting them neatly at the end of his bed.

"You can tell me, you know that.. right?"

"You dinnae want me to, L.T."

"Yeah? Try me." He deadpanned.

"You willnae like it." He warned, "and it'll change everything."

"I'm all ears."

"Uh.. k then... yeah ah lied, it is about. Yeh it's about tha'. It's nae-" he clears his throat, "it's not anything that you did, ah just... sometimes ah see you out of the corner of my eye.. and suddenly it's all I can pay attention to. An' I forget what ah'm supposed to be doin'. And ah forget every- everything except... an'- an' I've been takin' all the solos because it's the only time I can think, because every other time it's all just... I cannae seem to get myself to think about what ah need to." Once the words start, he can't seem to get them to stop, they just keep spilling out of his mouth. And Ghost doesn't stop him, just silently listening to him. And he really wishes he'd stop him, but he doesn't, and so he just keeps spewin' utter shite until his mouth runs out of steam.

Ghost doesn't say anything for a long while. Just looking at him, and he can't tell what he's thinking with the mask covering his face.

"You're wrong."

"What?"

"You're. Wrong." He says it slowly, like soap's some kind of idiot, and maybe he is. "This doesn't change anything.. and I do like it. I like it a lot."

Soap's brain short-circuits.

"I- huh?" Is his oh-so intelligent response.

"I'm telling you I feel the same."

"Oh." He says as his brain reboots. "... Roach is a snitch."

"Oh yeah, definitely."

"Ah shite."

"What?" Ghost sit forword in the chair.

"They'll never let this go now. Ah doubt shite- I owe Gaz a batch of cookies too."

Ghost only laughs at that.

[hisui-dreamer]

wooden charms

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: His beloved Shrimpy has been avoiding him, oh what is an eel to do?

Tags: miscommunication, comfort, fluff, Floyd calls you shrimpy, jade leech is a good man<3, bot proofread

Word count: 1.3k+

Notes: floyd fluff! this eel has been occupying my mind since the camp event started hahaha

i don't love the language in this fic, so there might be changes made here and there every time i have an epiphany lol

Floyd sank into the worn-out couch, his lean figure spreading out lazily across the worn-out cushions. Dishevelled strands of teal hair cascaded untamed over his forehead, casting a shadow that mirrored the clouded thoughts in his brooding eyes. Beside him, Jade maintained an impeccable posture, emanating an aura of refined elegance.

The two settled into the plush seats of the Mostro Lounge's VIP room, their weary bodies finding respite in its luxurious embrace. It had been yet another day consumed by the relentless demands of work, leaving Floyd's nerves frayed and restless. The dim lighting cast an ethereal glow, but it did nothing to quell the tempest swirling within Floyd.

A heavy sigh escaped Floyd's lips, his voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "Jade," he whined as he nudged his brother. "I dunno what's gotten into Shrimpy lately. I don't get it, they used to be all over me, like a little fishy clingin' to my side. But for a while now, they keep saying they’re busy and can’t spend time with me. But then I saw them hanging out with the Guppy! What's the deal?"

Jade, ever the diplomat, maintained his business-like facade, though his eyes hinted at a deeper understanding. "Floyd, relationships can be like that. It is rather odd that the prefect has been avoiding you, but I'm sure they're just extremely busy. It’s to be expected given they’re the headmaster’s errand runner…. And Epel is a first-year student, so it is likely they would study together. Just be patient, I'm sure they’ll come around."

But Floyd's eyebrows only furrowed more at Jade’s words. "But it feels like they’re ignorin' me completely! What in the world has got Shrimpy so preoccupied? It's drivin' me crazy..." he complained, absentmindedly running his hand through his messy hair. "I miss Shrimpy…," he murmured, his voice quivering with unspoken pain.

Jade's voice softened, trying to reassure Floyd. It wasn't often that he saw his brother so vulnerable. "Well, if you genuinely think something is wrong, I think you should confront them. Humans always stress that open communication is crucial in relationships," he suggested softly. "Ask them what's going on with them. Let them know how you feel. You won't change anything if you don't try to understand them. Perhaps there's a deeper reason behind their distant demeanour that you're unaware of."

Floyd sat still, absorbing Jade's words, his calm understanding offering a soothing balm to his troubled soul. He nodded slowly, the weight of their conversation sinking into him. "I guess you're right, Jade," he replied, his voice carrying a newfound determination. "I need to go talk to Shrimpy. I can't take this anymore."

The vibrant ambience of the restaurant clashed starkly with the sombre storm brewing within Floyd's soul. The cacophony of the customers' chatter and laughter grated against his raw nerves, an unwelcome intrusion on his troubled thoughts. Every incoming order felt like a burden that continued to weigh him down. With each passing moment of his arduous shift, he felt the urge to go and squeeze someone intensify.

He had desperately wanted to find you and have a heart-to-heart talk. However, Azul, ever the entrepreneurial mind, had devised yet another business venture to propel the Mostro Lounge's profits. And now, Floyd found himself trapped in a whirlwind of responsibilities, with hardly a moment to rest as he navigated managing a fresh batch of unfortunate souls who were just so useless as servers.

"Can you just hand me the damn plates already? I don't have time for this," Floyd muttered through gritted teeth, his words oozing with impatience and exasperation. The weight of his fatigue lent an edge to his voice, underscoring the strain he endured.

But then, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, you walked through the restaurant's entrance, piercing through the clouds of his irritation. Floyd's eyes widened, a wide grin stretching across his fatigued face, erasing all traces of weariness.

"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, his lazy drawl transformed into an exuberant melody. Ignoring the bustling crowd around him, he darted towards you with infectious enthusiasm. "You're here! Did you miss me?" He spoke eagerly, closing the distance between you.

In a surge of affection, Floyd enfolded you in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, fearing you’d suddenly disappear. Soon, he sensed your tapping on his back, a gentle reminder that his hugs were too strong and you struggled to breathe. He reflexively released his hold, though he remained intimately close.

"Hahaha, I missed you too, Floyd," you laughed, unable to resist his endearing antics. The sound of your laughter erased any trace of the weariness that had burdened him moments before.

"I've missed you too, Shrimpy. I haven’t seen you in so long!" he giggled, before remembering what had troubled him and pulling back. "You kept hanging out with Guppy and ignoring me!" he accused, a hint of lingering frustration colouring his words.

"Oh, Floyd, I'm sorry," you murmured, reaching up to delicately cup his cheek. His face instinctively leaned into your touch, melting at your warm touch. "I had something to do, and I needed Epel's help, but I promise I can spend more time with you now." The warmth in your voice carried the reassurance he longed for, gradually easing the tension between you.

At your words, Floyd visibly lit up with a flicker of excitement and relief. "Really? That's great!" he exclaimed, a joyous sparkle igniting in his eyes. "Now I have Shrimpy all to myself again!" With a burst of enthusiasm, he grasped your hands and shook them.

But then, his attention was drawn to the peculiar texture beneath his touch. Floyd's gaze shifted to your hands, his eyes widening as he noticed the bandages delicately wrapped around your fingers. A flicker of anger kindled within him, fuelled by a potent blend of concern and protectiveness.

"What happened to your fingers, Shrimpy?" Floyd's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and worry, his brows furrowing.

You gathered the courage to explain, recognizing the need to calm his simmering anger before he took it out on someone. "It's nothing serious, really," you began, your voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I just... I wasn't careful enough. I know it looks bad, but please, don't be angry. It was purely accidental."

Floyd's anger began to wane, replaced by a cautious curiosity as he leaned in, eager to understand the circumstances surrounding your injuries. His tone softened as he asked, "What were you doing that hurt you? Tell me, Shrimpy."

A sheepish smile graced your lips as you reached into your pocket, retrieving a meticulously crafted wooden shrimp charm, intricately carved with precision and love. "Well," you began, a touch of uncertainty in your words, "I wanted to make something special for us, something that would remind you of me when I’m not around. I thought maybe phone charms would be something you would always carry around, so I made this," you explained.

With a deft and fluid motion, your other hand retrieved your phone, revealing a dangling eel charm attached to it. "See?" you whispered, a hint of vulnerability lacing your voice. "I know it’s not the prettiest, but we can match, Floyd."

As Floyd's eyes took in the shrimp and eel charms, his features softened, his anger dissipating like a receding tide. A surge of affection and understanding washed over Floyd, and he reached out to carefully take the wooden shrimp charm, his fingertips brushing against yours as he did so.

"Shrimpy," Floyd spoke softly, his voice filled with newfound tenderness. "I had no idea... This is so cool! You made that for me?"

You smiled at his reaction. "Yeah, I don't really have enough money to buy fancy gifts, and handmade gifts are always more heartfelt, don't you think?"

He encircled you in his embrace once more, this time more delicate and loving. "Thank you, Shrimpy," he murmured, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "I’ll keep your Shrimpy charm safe."

As he drew back slightly, you noticed a slight pout gracing his features. "But please don’t avoid me again, okay?" he whined, before mushing his cheek against the top of your head.

"It's unbearable without you," he murmured.

[glowstick-cafe]

♡Across the Spiderverse: Relationship Hc's♡

Hobie Brown x reader

Genre: Fluff(?)

Warning: Hobie is so cool and he knows it, black peepole(British rizz) being in love, as always reader is gender neutral.

Summary: You actully hated him at first, but the line between hate and love are often blurred.

A/n: You guys liked me being delulu with Pav so imma be delulu with Hobie. Also, leave a comment if you want. :]

_______________________________________

You are a part of the spider society, Miguel just picked you up and said, "You're coming with me, kid." And you've just been on it ever since.

Your often aided Margo with her work(not like she minded), mostly because talking to spiders other than her, Miguel, Jessica, and Lyla were scary.

That's when you met Hobie, you truly had no idea what the hell he was saying for a full hour into him talking becauseof his accent, and he probably picked up on that from your constant confused nodding.

Hobie was fine with you not wanting to talk, which you appreciated; the boy was always happy to carry the conversation, and he assumed you wanted to be friends because you've been following him around and listening to him attentively.

Your friendship with Hobie was great, you've even stayed over at his house a few times to watch a movie you never made it through because you always fell asleep.

That was when Gwen came into the picture. You didn't hate her, she was actully really sweet and you had a lot of fun with her, but Hobies' attention began to be more on Gwen rather than you.

When Hobie began to notice how distant you were becoming he confronted you when you both were watching a movie at his house again, for old time sake.

"You've been ignorin' me lately, why?" He asked bluntly, Hobie was laying on your lap looking straight up at you.

"I'm not ignoring you, you have Gwen to talk to, anyway." You quickly realized how you sounded and cursed yourself, you looked down to meet Hobie's gaze only to see him with an amused expression. "A bit jealous, are ye?" He jokingly questioned, then sat up from you lap.

You could feel the heat emanating from your face, "No! Not like that- I just....fuck off!" You retorted, before you could embarrass yourself futher, Hobie placed a finger under your chin and gave you a peck on the lips. "It was never like that with Gwen, you idiot."

Safe to say that you stayed awake for that whole movie.

When you and Hobie started dating, he became more touchy, in the sense that he has to be touching you in some way.

He loves showing you off, it's like Peter B. showing off his kid, he takes offense if they don't wanna see you.

Hobie likes to rest is head on yours, it happens everywhere, standing in a line, washing dishes, it great for him, not so much for your neck though.

He also likes to likes to hug you from behind, but since your a bit jumpy about hugs the alternative is using your head as a pillow, or using your shoulder.

"Mate, wha chu' mean you don't wanna see my partner?"

He's so soft for you, even with he doesn't want to be.

He absolutely melts when you lightly tugg on his pinky finger or his jacket when you want his attention for something.

You love to kiss all of his piercings individually when you notice he's not having a great day.

You can't do cornrows for the life if you, but Hobie got you covered. He sits you down between his legs and does your hair as you watch whatever.

God forbid you touch your cornrows while he's doing them, he will hit your hand with that comb and it will hurt. "Why you tryin' to mess up my work, nah?"

[amymbona]

i need angst so !! thinking about patrick with an introverted, shy, kinda closed off reader who sometimes needs to just be by herself and isolates and ghosts the people around her because she gets overwhelmed. and of course patrick gets mad because he doesn't get it and he confronts her about it and they get in a huge argument idk. i feel like she's a lot like a female version of art and she gest sneaky and mean when she's angry so i just imagine patrick seeing this part of her for the first time and they end up saying the worst things to each other

thank you <33

Patrick angst Zweig <3

I think that, as much as Patrick tries to be a good guy, he's just really oblivious and fails to notice important stuff. It doesn't mean that he doesn't care - no no no - but he's simply kinda stupid. And unfortunately, he's having issues with figuring out certain social cues.

So when your responses are dry, only sending simple yes and no to his messages, Patrick gets really pissed. What exactly is the issue - do you suddenly hate him? Has he done something so terrible that offended you and you weren't even able to talk to him about it? Or is it the harsh truth that you don't want to be friends with him anymore? While you're (somewhat) peacefully asleep, hoping to get past your anxiety in that way, Patrick spends hours pacing around his room, literal steam shooting from his ears.

And then he storms into your dorm in the middle of the night - because Patrick Zweig doesn't understand the concept of time and because Patrick Zweig doesn't care if somebody wants to get rest and mainly because Patrick Zweig doesn't like waiting - so you're forced to listen to him rant, half asleep, in your pyjamas.

"I don't understand it, I just - did I do something? - or what is it? Why won't you just tell me?"

"Patrick, just go to your place. We'll talk in the morning," you beg him with a sleepy voice, eyes closing.

He stomps towards your bed, hands on his hips, staring down at your tired frame, "Why? Why won't you just talk to me? You've been ignorin' me since the start of the week. What the hell's your issue?"

"Just go," you plead once again, genuinely not in the mood for any of it.

"Don't tell me to go - goddamn - don't sleep now! Just talk to me, for fuck's sake," Patrick is still pushing his luck, unable to respect your wishes. He is determined to get this answer. And unfortunately, that pushes you over the edge.

"Why do you have to be so pushy all the time? Oh my god, just leave me alone - why don't you get it? I'm not texting you cause I wanna be alone!"

He's dumbfounded, totally.

"What the hell, Y/N?"

But you're having none of it, sadly, too upset about this whole treatment, about Patrick constantly chasing you, glued to your back, not allowing you a single moment for yourself. You love him, but you need to be alone as well, "You're after me all the time - do you have an idea how frusttating that is? I can't be with you all the time, Pat. I'm not a robot, I need some time for myself too!"

And you know Patrick is quite an emotional guy, dependent too. He requires constant reassurance and presence of his loved ones - so much, that he's blind to all the hints of discomfort, unable to understand the world doesn't revolve around him.

"Oh," he nods, stepping away from your bed slowly, "Okay."

Like a harsh shake, the realisation that you have unintentionally hurt his feelings wakes you up. But you couldn't hold it back, you just couldn't, when you were so overwhelmed, "Wait, Patrick-"

"No no no," he cuts you off, "Good night."

And then you're left alone. But suddenly, you don't want to be alone. You want Patrick to come back, to be here, lay next to you and talk your ear off. To rant and rant and rant until you're asleep, unaware of anything he's saying, but snuggled closely to his side. Hurriedly, you pick up your phone and text him.

Y/N: pat [0:28 am]

Y/N: sorry [0:28 am]

Y/N: i'm sorry [0:28 am]

Y/N: come baxk [0:28 am]

Y/N: please [0:29 am]

Y/N: sorry [0:29 am]

Y/N: :( [0:29 am]

[seen by Patrick Zweig]

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

INDIANA JONES has that effortless brat-taming way about him. When he tells you to “Sit down.” because you’re getting too uppity, you’ll sit down. When you’re acting fussy because he’s spending too much time away from home, he’ll call you out on it before finding a satisfactory solution for you. For the most part, he’s highly logical when presented with problems. So logical sometimes it’s hard to argue with him because he doesn’t wanna see the emotional side of things. Oh, but when you give him the silent treatment... it's an entirely different story.

His boots thunder after you as you walk away from him with your nose stuck up in the air. "You ignorin' me?" he questions. He knows the answer, but he's incredulous. You've noted how when he's angry, he's looser with proper pronunciation. So at least you're getting somewhere.

"Hey." he warns, his large hand clamping onto your upper arm to whip you around and face him. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you."

You glare up at him, jerking your limb from his hold. "Oh, were you? I didn't notice, Pa." As you speak you cross your arms, closing your eyes to pivot your head in the opposite direction. The nickname you call him so affectionately is now used to pierce him. Instead, it backfires. You see it in the way he sets his jaw.

"I'll show you why you call me that."

With all the rage a father can have, and all the passion a lover is capable of, he makes sure to teach you not to address your Pa so informally. Your poor ass a mess of a sloppy, red welt when he's done.

[mandiemegatron]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕪 ℍ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤

𝙴𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚍 𝚡 𝚈/𝙽 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚝

Eustass being a bully, Y/N being a silly goose by having 3 brain cells, soft adoration and love because our boy deserves it! We love him!

A/N: I've been mulling around with this for the past few days so I finally beta'd and finished it up today so I hope you all enjoy !! Something a bit softer this time around, I was in my feels and this is what happened lmao 😭🙈 if you see any mistakes, no you fuckin don't!! 🥰

Enjoy, my cute lil tangerines! 💖💖💖✨️✨️✨️

It was a quiet night, thankfully. Most days on the Victoria were rowdy, overwhelming and drunken, so for it was a blessing in disguse for the night to be so quiet for you. You leaned on the railing of the ship, eyes watching the moon lit waters as a content sigh left you. 'How peaceful,' you thought, bringing your beer to your lips.

You'd just finished your beer when you suddenly heard a shout from behind you, turning from your spot at the railing to see your redheaded Captain stomping his way over to you, a confused but amused grin washing over your face as you asked,

"The hell's wrong with you?"

The second he got close enough, he reached out and flicked you in the forehead with his warm hand. You couldn't dodge in time and yelped at the sudden pain, reaching up to cover the spot as you gave him the finger with your other hand.

"You cocksucker, what the fuck was that for!"

He gave a quick, sharp laugh and yelled back,

"I was standin' over there SHOUTING for you for years, you deaf-ass bitch!"

Your eyes narrowed as an even more confused expression came over you, your tone annoyed and accusing as you bit back,

"Oi! It's not that I'm deaf, I was just zoned out - AND besides the point! Why didn't you just come over here instead of shouting at me like a fucking child?!"

He gave you the finger and barked back,

"Fuck you, you were ignorin' me and I don't appreciate that shit!"

It took you a moment to collect yourself but after a few breaths, realization kicked in as you asked,

"You seriously thought I was ignoring you? Kid... come on man."

Your Captain also took a moment, crossing his mismatched arms over his chest as he huffed. He watched you the entire time, watching as you fiddled with your empty bottle and finally spoke when your gaze softened.

"Uh... yeah? I was fuckin' screamin', Y/N."

You ran a nervous hand over your face and sighed, giving a slight nod as you accepted your fault.

"I'm sorry Captain. I really was just so into the silence that I just... tuned everything else out."

You glanced up at him with a tight smile, hoping he could see how genuine your apology was.

"...Forgive me?"

He scowled at you for a good few minutes, your heart pounding in your chest as an uneasy feeling came over you, your smile twitching as you wondered if he was actually mad enough to keep yelling or if he'd stomp away like a child like he usually did when you fought.

Surprisingly, when he did neither, your anxiety washed away with a sigh through your nose, grinning at his response of,

"Ah, I uh - I'm sorry, you brat. I just, I want your fuckin' attention, and it pisses me right the fuck off when I don't get it."

You couldn't help but give a soft "aww, Eustass..." as you closed the space between you, wrapping your arms around his middle and squishing your face to his chest as his arms wrapped around you warmly. You hugged him tight for a moment before pulling away to look up at him, your eyes bright and honest as you reminded him,

"You know you always have my attention. Sometimes though, it takes more than words to grab it but that's not your fault, it's mine. It's hard to pay attention to anything outwards when you're so... inwards, I guess." Your words grew soft by the end, a small frown on your lips. It was hard to explain but judging by how Kid was staring down at you, you had a feeling he understood to an extent.

"I'm sorry, lover. How can I make it up to you?"

His eyes suddenly glinted with mischief at your words, his hands moving down to cup your ass tightly, pulling a surprised "Oi!" from you as he almost purred out,

"You can apologize on your knees."

Your body vibrated at his words, pupils blowing wide as your breath catches in your throat. This was the man you loved, the one to take charge and tell you exactly what he wanted and how. You must have had a look on your face because that stupid, shit eating grin he always wore when he won something slid over his features in an instant.

"Sound good, lover?"

His tone was mocking as he said the word, his fleshy fingers gripping at you with an intensity the fueled the fire inside you.

"Y-yeah, sounds good."

The next thing your mind registers is the soft bed in the Captains room, his warm mouth nipping and devouring you from the outside in. You're both naked, hands roaming over skin as his name falls from your lips as you consume each other, body heart and soul.

His eyes are so gentle as he presses into you, his warm hand cupping your cheek as you hiss at the sudden filling pain, the sound turning to a soft moan as you shift your hips to grind against his.

The way he breathes out your name, pressing the softest kisses to your face and neck as he takes you, your heart overflowing with love for him as it hit you that this was his way of apologizing. Words were never his strong point but his actions more than made up for the lack of verbal communication. Though he teased that you were the one to apologize, he felt he needed to prove that he could accept his faults and be better, for you.

While you had yet to put a label on what you two had, this moment solidified your already immovable loyalty to him as you poured your heart out to him, sobbing into his shoulder as he murmured sweet nothings into your ear. Tears stained his skin as he thrusted into you, hoping to prove to you that he loved you more than anything.

Your foreheads met as you both began to reach the edge, your gaze warm and loving as he kissed you, his lips wordlessly whispering his unashamed adoration to you. He wiped away your tears before gripping your hips tightly, flesh and metal biting into your skin and sending your senses to heaven as you tumbled over the edge, sobbing out his name as your fingers gripped into his shoulders and back.

"Such a beautiful girl, my perfect girl, I love you, God you're so beautiful,"

His words fell from him like the softest prayer you'd ever heard, feeling like your hands would never be big enough to hold all the love he had for you in your palms. You clung to each other as he sloppily thrusted up into you, bringing you closer to a second orgasm as he chased his own high.

Your name met your ears multiple times in a hurried whisper, Kids lips pressing hotly to your collarbone as he jutted into you a few more times, groaning loudly into your bitten and bruised skin. You came with him, your eyes rolling back as you pressed mindless kisses to his shoulder.

The silence was heavy and thick, though comfortable, as you both sat in each others arms, neither of you willing to be the first to move. His thumbs pressed small circles in your hips, his lips pressing into your throat softly, moving up until he took your lips in his. You could feel him shaking and your heart felt like bursting, his energy almost suffocating you with all his unspoken emotions.

It was a while before he finally spoke, his voice the softest you'd ever heard as he asked,

"Did I hurt you?"

You smiled so gently, your expression warm and loving as you responded just as softly,

"No, my love."

His expression brightened at your words, looking like a kid in a candy store as his heart did backflips in his chest. He said nothing, only pulling you back to kiss you deeply, his soft hand tangling into your hair as his metal one remained on your hip.

You both only moved when sleep came knocking. Tucking you into him, he curled around you like a warm cage, desperate to protect you from the outside world. You caved into him, feeling the safest you'd felt in a very long time, knowing in your heart this was where home was.

It wasn't long til you could hear Kid breathing softly, exhaustion slowly overtaking you as your lips pressed soft kisses to whatever skin you could reach. As the darkness overcame you, you swore you heard him murmur,

"I'm gunna marry your crazy ass one day."

But you told yourself that your imagination was just playing tricks, unknowing that his tired eyes watched as you pressed into him as you finally drifted away.

In that moment, Eustass Kid felt like king of the world.

For the first time in his life, he finally felt like he had everything.

I love u all my lil tangerines! Be good ! 💖💖💖✨️✨️✨️✨️ smooches 4 u all 💖💖💖💖

A/N: AWWWW, okay, so I loved writing this I won't lie, the feels were flowing and I felt the need to write something sickly soft for our crazy man. This was so much fun, I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it !

[callsignmarz]

‼️MDNI‼️ - Ghost x Y/N | Fem :“A Night With A Player.”

Being single certainly had its days.

There were countless nights you spent, swiping on dating apps, in search for someone relatively close to Prince Charming. However, over time, each new face seemed to blend in with the next, leaving you in disillusionment.

Whenever you got a match, it seemed there was lack of any genuine connection.

The small talks fizzled into abrupt silence.

Every conversation started to sound the same.

Slowly becoming immune to the repetitive compliments.

What a fucking bore...

You want something different yet, so familiar. Something that could easily light up just a little bit of excitement in your dull and very sexless life.

As you were brushing your teeth, the soft glow of your phone illuminates from your bathroom counter accompanied by the sharp ping of a text, suddenly seizing your attention. Your eyes peek at the aesthetically appealing home screen, taking a glance at the time instead.

10:46 pm

1 new text message

Any text this late at night was always presumed unimportant. So, shrugging it off and go about your nighttime routine.

Moments later another text chimes through the air.

"Who the fuck is texting me?" You say in an exasperated huff, fluttering your eyelids with exhaustive annoyance.

Why was it so hard for someone to simply find the patience to wait?

Snatching up your phone, you expect someone reasonable so you so don't act on one of your very many creative ideas. Suspicion arouses in your chest when you see the text messages that came in were from an unknown number. For a minute or so, you re-read the cryptic words on the screen.

Miss me, Love?

Hope you're not ignorin' me, y/n...

Raising a brow, your thumbs taps your screen, typing up your response, feeling intrigued as you piece together who this person is. All the serious ex-boyfriends are currently blocked—unless one of them got a new phone number. Then again, could it be that one fine ass doctor who flaked out when you were supposed to meet up for coffee, what was his name? Leon? Leroy?

The thought of playing 20 questions felt childish, and yet, you couldn't resist a good game of cat and mouse.

Do I have a reason to?

It was a simple question.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Satisfied with your response, you confidently press the send button and swiftly make your way to the bedroom, ready to crawl into the comfort of your safe haven. As you were settling down, it wasn't long before you got another text. Your lips fought back the devious smirk that toyed at the corners. Then the habitual urge to wait a few minutes before you responded, kicked into play. Counting the minutes down to a T, you went through the motions until you allowed yourself to eagerly grab ahold of your phone.

I'm goin' to take that as you don't remember me then...Shame, really.

You pause, staring at the mysterious text with your thumbs hovering over your keyboard in hesitation.

Despite the warning bells ringing through your head, you were drawn in, almost obligated to keep it the conversation flirtatious and flowing, your stomach whirls in temptation and your veins pumped with adrenaline. "Y/N... you're literally just asking for it at this point." You depressingly tell yourself, while you await the unknown.

Shame? So, why don't you remind me then?

In a matter of seconds and with amped up urgency ricocheting in the air, your phone chimes 3 times.

You never cease to amaze me, y/n.

It's Simon.

I'm only in town for a few days.

Ahh..That explains a lot...

Tipping your head back and like a film to a movie, the past emotions you had suppressed a long time ago begins to resurface. You knew all too well that Simon was the kind of person who just wanted to get his dick wet, and yet, here you are...

And I should care why..?

A wry smirk tugged on Simon's cheeks, you were the same y/n as he remembered.

In his eyes, you reminded him of a coconut.

A fruitful woman who sought out love with a tough, hardened exterior, protecting the delicate and delicious center. Given just the right amount of pressure, the shell would crack, exposing the soft interior.

And Simon knew exactly how to break through.

Don't act like you don't have flashbacks of how I made your legs shake with just two of my fingers.

A bit cocky today, aren't you?

Willin' to find out?

Rekindling anything with Simon would be a waste of time and energy. It was going to lead you down a path that held nothing but short-lived highs and hallow, empty promises.

Even with the nostalgic scenes from the past manifesting, the mere act of conversing with Simon reignites an extinguished flame that quickly spreads throughout your body.

You could also use the good fucking.

Maybe.

And there it was.

It was a crumb, but to Simon, it was an entry ticket. He was quite impressed with himself that he didn't even have to do much convincing this time around.

Absolutely fuckin' beautiful...

Still live on Downer?

How cute, you remembered.

Of course, I remembered. Why wouldn't I?

There were plenty of fucking reasons.

Not only did Simon lead you on, believing there was a chance to a sustainable future with him, you had also caught him in several lies.

Like the one time you went through his phone and saw 3 different women, actively pursuing a relationship and none of them aware about one other. At least you had the heart to send them the screenshots, right? But once again, the impulsive nature to be a total bitch trended on the horizon.

Honestly? I thought you would've forgotten.

It's been a while.

Simon hums with satisfaction stroking his ego.

He had you right where he wanted you.

Just a little bit more...

How can I forgot about the one that got away?

Out of all the shit we went through, I still admire you. I crave a woman that is independent and strong willed. Besides, we had a lot of fun together.

Like a siren's song, you found yourself unable to resist him.

All the blood in your body rushed to your most sensitive areas, shivering with agonizing need. Taking the edge off, your left hand glides down the gap of your tits, passing your navel and resting between the heat of your thighs, massaging your throbbing clit through your shorts, greedily rocking your hips into your fingers.

So, when did you want to come over?

Fuck, what am I doing..?

This was a bad idea, but the longing feel for connection overshadowed the rational voice in your head.

The intoxicating chemistry between you and Simon was undeniable, your fingers swirl circles, your breathing shallowing with more dirty thoughts from the past come flooding back. The soft glow from your phone captures your attention, stunting you from reaching your climax.

Reading the last of his words, your heart flutters and you do as Simon says.

Quit touching yourself.

I'll be over in 15.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Brat Taming w/ Maggie Greene

a/n: i apologize for being so behind on kinktober, but here's this to make up for it because i've been obsessed with maggie lately.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Yes, you had to admit that you were being a dick.

I mean c'mon, who wouldn't be? This random guy shows up and all of a sudden he's all over her? It's not that you didn't like Glenn, but you most definitely did not appreciate the googly eyes he was making at your girlfriend, practically hanging off of everything she said, even having the audacity to act flustered around her as if she had asked him to have sex with her or something.

Okay, yeah, no one knew about your relationship, but who could blame the both of you? Maggie grew up in a religious family, as well as her father being one word away from popping his top due to the new arrivals, especially because of Shane. When the world had ended, you were staying the night at her house under the ruse that you hadn't had a “girl's night” with each other in ages, aka the woman was horny and pretty much booty called you. That was when you hadn't put a label on anything yet, Maggie being the hesitant one.

As you spent time taking care of her relatives and close friends that were quickly getting infected, almost all of them being led to the barn with each passing day, she realized that life was now truly too short to be afraid. Maybe that's why you were acting this way, because the relationship was still fresh, internally scared that she'd hop on the first train to a having heterosexual relationship. The sad part was that you'd let her if that was what would make her happy.

You had been giving her an attitude for the last couple of days, constantly shooting dirty looks at Glenn when he was around her, where you knew she could see you. The farm had been so busy lately, with the newcomers and finally having an extra sets of hands. You stayed behind as the men went out; doing the laundry, catering to the farm animals as well as preparing a hearty meal for everyone when they get back.

Trudging upstairs, you headed straight for the bathroom as you stripped naked, allowing the natural air of the vintage house to cool you off as you grabbed a rag, dipping it in a bucket of water so you could scrub yourself down. You wiped the dirt and grime off of your body, the chilly water cooling your pores as you finally were able to recognize yourself.

You jumped as the door opened, your eyes meeting Maggie's as she shut it behind you.

“Get out.” You said coldly, even though you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shoulder and deeply inhale her scent. “No.” She said darkly, twisting the lock. She walked up from behind you, placing her hands on your hips, the softness of your naked flesh contradicted the calluses on her palms. She really was the farmer's daughter.

“You've been ignorin’ me.” She drawled in your ear, pressing her clothed lower half to your ass, the denim scratching at your skin. A shiver ran up your spine as her breath hit the shell of your ear. “And you've been real mean to Glenn.” You just shrugged. Nervousness twisted in your gut as you tried to keep a steady face. “Oh, you don't care?” Her eyes grew dark as she asked, her grip growing tighter, pushing you back against her as you kept yourself balanced by placing your hands on the sink.

“No, I don't.” You said, pressing your lips together as she let you grind onto her crotch. The barely there friction was enough to cause you to whimper, head falling back as you indulged in her touches. Your eyes fell closed, a hand landing on your ass, gripping the irritated skin as she watched your reaction through the mirror.

“I don't think that you don't care. I just that think you're just been all pent up, ain't been touched in a while,” She placed a kiss on your shoulder, “My poor girl.” She cooed condescendingly. “I thought,” You breathed as she allowed you to grind against her once more. “I thought you wanted Glenn. 'Was jealous.” You confessed, tears springing in your eyes as the words left you.

She paused.

“Don't you ever say I'd want anyone but you.”

Turning you around, she slammed her lips on yours, invading your mouth with her tongue. Her hand caressed the fat of your body; from your shoulders, down to your breasts where she gently squeezed, twisting your nipples between her fingers, then tracing the stretch marks on your large stomach, allowing her fingertips to trail down your torso before finally touching you where needed her most. She traced your weeping slit, your body shaking in anticipation as she easily inserted two of her fingers into you, a gasp escaping your lips and falling onto her tongue.

“I don't know when they'll be back, so you gotta stay quiet okay?” You nodded as she worked her fingers in and out of you, the only thing audible was your ragged breathing and your wetness, which was dripping down your inner thighs. “Maggie…” You whimpered, hands clawing at her shoulders. “My pretty girl. 'Always ready for me too touch you.” Her thumb drew circles on your clit. “All you wanted was my attention, but you didn't have to be a brat—” Her free hand surprisingly tangled in your sweaty locks, tugging your head back to expose your neck to her.

“To get it.” She finished.

You writhed in her dominant hold, squirming as you drew closer to your release. Her lips hovered over the most sensitive spot on your neck before placing a kiss there. “If no one asked questions, I would’a marked you up purple and blue.” You clenched down on her fingers at the confession. “You close?” And you nodded, holding back as cry as she skillfully massaged your g-spot. For you being the only woman she had ever been with, she knew a lot about what to do.

“Can I cum, please?” You begged, knees growing weak and your mind fogging, practically pleading to let go to. “Will you be nicer to Glenn if I do?” You vigorously nodded, “Yes, yes, I will!” She placed a kiss on your lips. “Then cum.” She spoke against them, and that coil in your stomach snapped, your body arching into her as you came all over her fingers.

Let's just say Glenn had noticed the difference later that day.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02

[loganlermanstanaccount]

black and blue

(AO3 Mirror) (Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist) (Event Info)

-> part of my 6k followers event!

Tape 1 // Side B Track 06: Jonny - Faye Webster Joel Miller x unrequited love

summary: You spend a night with Joel. You finally realise his true feelings.

warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, very very angsty.

a/n: or; the inherent horror of being in love with Joel Miller.

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

Jonny, did you ever love me?

Jonny, help me figure it out

Not that I've paid attention,

But you haven't said it out loud

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

It feels like you've spent half a lifetime looking at the back of Joel Miller's neck. And it's grown on you; so much so, you're almost disappointed to see the curve of jaw when he looks back. 

If he looks back. 

Joel is careful, takes patrol more seriously than you seem to; rifle in his arms like it's an extension of himself. You suppose it is: he's got the arc of bullets etched into bone. It's out of necessity, you think, but he's too good at it; leaning into the recoil and watching it rip it into something else.

"Think m'deaf, in this ear." He says, one quiet night. A lifetime ago, yesterday; it doesn't matter. 

You trace the shell of his ear with a fingertip. He flinches slightly. The muscles at his neck are stiff, tense even as he's splayed out on the sheets. 

"I know, Joel." Slowly, he curls back into your side; trained on your lips, flicking up to look at ppyour eyes. He doesn't like looking you in the eye, you've noticed. "Thought you were ignorin' me, for a while. Turns out you just can't hear for shit."

He laughs, a rumbling that shakes bone in that way you like. He doesn't laugh enough, you think, too bogged down by the weight of surviving .

But in that safehouse, one of your usual haunts on an overnight, it's the only thing you can hear. You fall asleep to it; the closest thing to joy you've felt in years; taking the form of secrets whispered in a hazy glow, told to you between heartbeats and careful kisses. 

Like a dream, it's all gone in the morning. 

You bundle yourself into boots and tattered clothes; whilst Joel triple checks the perimeter. There's a wordless exchange when he gets back, as you hand him extra bullets for his rifle. A brush of fingers so soft, it feels violent. He doesn't look you in the eye. 

You're back to staring at Joel's head; counting the clumps of gray hairs that curl up at the nape of his neck. He's wearing that denim shirt you hate – the same one he always leaves the QZ in and the very same you took off of him last night. You don't hate it because he looks bad; it's quite the opposite in fact. You hate it because it's the only thing he's superstitious about – a crisp collar and the top bottom undone, and it means a good run. It scares you, sometimes. If Joel Miller's searching for something to believe in, something lucky, what hope in hell did the rest of you have? 

He seems antsy, today. Restless, scratching at his neck more than usual. You keep a steady pace behind him, crunching glass and rubble underfoot. The city is… quiet. But whilst you've learnt not to stick your head in the mouth of a gift horse, to be grateful and not think too hard, you can tell: Joel's more than a little unsettled. 

He brings his hand up, stopping dead in his tracks. There's a broad palm at your shoulder, and then he's looking around, bringing the rifle up to his chest. You can't see anything out of the ordinary but you trust Joel with your life. If something feels off to him, then it is. 

There's a crunch of brush underfoot. Something whizzes past you; the spray of bullets, and all of a sudden, you're knocked onto your knees. It hurts; sharp pain at your shoulder, but you're scrambling to your gun and eventually you stagger to your feet. Joel's much quicker, dispensing a quick bullet or two in the direction of the shots; and you hear the thud of a body in the undergrowth. Someone lunges towards him from behind, and you're on him like a shadow – a small blade drawn and ripping his throat apart with its edge. With the little strength you have, you turn, back against Joel; using the spluttering body as a shield to advance towards another attack. You're deflecting the rounds of a small handgun; antique, by the looks of it; and then Joel's finishing off the job as you roll away at the last second. Three efficient shots, and they're both dead. 

"We need to–" Fuck, you're gasping, clutching at your shoulder and barely registering the blood that pumps from the wound. Joel seems shell-shocked, eyes wide at you. You're putting a hand on him, squeezing tight, trying to tell him to snap out of it . "Not enough time, Joel…n-need to secure the area. Make sure there's not more coming– ffuck–" 

And then you're doubled over with pain, half-collapsed on his chest; clutching at the fabric of that stupid shirt he always wears. 

"Joel, " You're in tears now, gritting through it because God, why isn't he listening?" Joel, I n-need you to–" 

"I know, darlin'," He's slinging the rifle over his back, scooping you up as best he can in his arms. His voice is soft, oh so gentle; and it's all you can do to not melt into his touch. "Let's get you somewhere safer, okay?" 

And you want to argue, tell him you're fine , there's bigger things to worry about right now. You want to kick, scream, and everything in your body wants to tell him to run; but his chest is so soft, so warm…

He's leading you towards the remains of an abandoned apartment complex, about a half mile away. It peeks out from spindly trees, blurry around the edges. Your vision wanes, Joel's face being the last thing you see; and he's not looking at you, face tight and desperate as you stagger towards safety. 

When you come to, you're delirious. The room is hot; damp and dark despite moonlight and cool air streaming in from an open window. You stagger towards it, sticking your head out for some much needed respite, but it does little to relieve you. Ever so slightly, you lean against the windowpane and pain rockets at your shoulder; throbbing and sharp. It leaves you reeling backwards, clutching at the wound. There's a rough bandage wrapped tightly around it; and you're horrified to realise it's caked in dry blood. Fuck. Head pounding, you curl up on the floor, trying your best not to panic. It's a lot of blood to lose, and you're feeling dizzy with just the thought. 

You're scrambling for the medbag; a little canvas sack inside one of your packs on the floor. It hurts, but you grit through the pain, rummaging through clothes and whatever's left of your food. Half of its contents are strewn on the floor when you realise: it's in Joel's bag, which is nowhere to be seen. 

There's a thought that creeps in when you realise: you don't know where he is. He's well and truly gone, if he's taken his bag. How long has it been? Has he really left you here? Hot and cold and shriveling all at the same time; he's left you here to die. And you can't even blame him; he's done more than most people would in this kind of situation. You lay back on the floor, ignoring the pain at your shoulder.

You're light-headed, cycling through hot flushes and then freezing cold; likely battling the beginnings of an infection. And you've lost a lot of blood; of which you've seen countless people die from less. Too far out from the QZ to survive the journey, and here, at least you can see the sun when it rises. Maybe he did you a kindness. Maybe this is Joel's way of saying goodbye. 

Delirium sets in and makes you think of a life without all this. Where you and Joel have something real – something more than two lonely bodies in orbit around one another. You're not stupid; masochistic, maybe, but not a fool. The nights you've spent together, secrets told in the form of arms around one another and tender kisses; were things to bury in shadowy graves left by moonlight. That's what you feel like, sometimes, wrapped around his back and listening to the fall and rise of his chest; swallowed up by the shadow left in Joel Miller's wake. 

The quiet hurts far more than anything else. You try to fill it up with something other than vicious empty; laughing at the shit lot in life you've drawn. You're in love with him: piece-of-shit , too-far-gone , this-will-end-in-tears-or-blood-or-both-sweetheart, Joel Miller. 

You say it to the wind, to the arms you think you're imagining that scoop you up from the floor. Your hands are numb, losing all feeling as you claw at rough denim; watery laughter ringing out in the little room. 

"T-Think I love you, Joel." You say to the pale face that burrows into the crook of your neck. A ghost, maybe, that whispers back. 

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

~~~

You wake up with the sun on your side, streaming through windows. Body creaking, you sit up. Pain rockets to your shoulder, stabs at your stomach; but the dull kind that throbs - rather than sharp and shooting, like last night. 

Last night. In a haze, you trace featherlight touches on somewhat clean bandages. Wrapped over your wound, you don't feel like you're dying, at least. 

You're still reorienting yourself when Joel pads into the room; muddy and panting. There's blood caked onto his sleeves when he shoots forward; one hand in yours and the other around your waist. He helps you down back onto the concrete, grasping your face to turn it this way and that. 

He's inspecting you; thumbs just below your eyes to check your pupils, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. Hot to the touch, but you swat him away. 

"Joel– Joel. " You try to wrench yourself away, but your muscles are too weak to overpower his. "I'm good. I feel much better than yesterday, and–" 

" Yesterday? " He strains, and his gentle tone gives you whiplash. "It's been a couple days ."

"...what?"

"You've been in and out of it for a while," He clears his throat, and gives a watery laugh. It sounds more rueful, than happy, you think. "And I've been givin' you food and water where I can, cleanin' your wound, and looking for meds."

With that last part, you notice a clear vial by his side, taking it into your hands with a shaky grip. You recognise the label as a strong painkiller, and the bottle's almost empty. 

"Been doin' what I can. That's from an outpost not too far from here." Joel looks guilty. "But…"

You hear the rest of that sentence. No antibiotics. Running out of clean water. No way to properly disinfect the wound. In about as many words, the ones he doesn't say, you'll die of infection long before you reach the QZ. 

"I don't know what to do, sweetheart."

He puts your hands around his face, pleading in a way you've never seen before. 

"You always been smarter than me, so just tell me what to do a-an' I'll do it, no complaints."

"You got more of these?" Your voice is hoarse. He nods. "They're pure? " 

A throaty, "Yes ma'am." is all he can manage. 

You put the vial in his hand. "You take these to the QZ, and you sell 'em."

The rest of it goes unsaid. It doesn't stay like that, snatched up from the ether and wispy sunlight. 

"I can't jus' leave you– " 

"You can. You will." You're trying to keep your face hard and lean-lined. You can't crack, not now – you need to be firm, or Joel will do some stupid shit in the name of family. 

Quieter now, you say, "You tell Tess, I love–" 

"–No. " He's shaking his head vehemently, clutching your hands like they're going to break. "No, no, no. None of that bullshit. You'll tell her yourself when we get ourselves out of this one. W-When–" 

His voice breaks, and you're standing up, off of the concrete to marvel at a brilliant blue sky. Joel crumples into himself, trying so hard to keep himself together. 

"Joel," You stretch out a hand, rough palms kissing his, and you lead him towards the window. "It's a lovely day, today. Clear skies. The usual route will take 3 days, maximum. You can make it in 2."

You smile. 

"I like those odds. Don't you?" 

"Come with me. " He whispers, turning to you. "You want me to beg? 'Cuz I will. I'll get on my knees, and I'll beg until you say yes."

And you know he would; stubborn, pig-headed Joel Miller would drag you both to the QZ out of sheer willpower. Even souped up on painkillers, you know, you'd be dead by nightfall. 

He can't be here when you do. You can't let him carry that around for the rest of his life, so you shake your head, weakly. For some reason, that's the one that takes; the one that has him doubled over the sill in a moment of weakness. 

You crouch down next to him, and then sit, back flat on the wall. Taking his hand, you wrap it up in both hands; warming it up for him. He stills, coming to sit down like you do. 

"I love you." He says, and he's looking at you; boring into soul. And then he reaches over, gently, to capture your lips in a kiss; searing and messy. 

Separating, you look at him. Just looking, and you blink back a few hot tears. Joel has never been a good liar, not when it counts. 

You're crying now, properly , face squeezed up into a ball; trying to clamp down heaving sobs. Even now, he's being so kind, trying to give you something to hold on to; and you want, so desperately, to fall headfirst into that delirium, to die with that feeling of love and being loved. But you can't. Because–

"I know." You say it between sobs. "I-I know , Joel. Have for… for a while."

All he does is nod, brows softening, and then he's capturing you in a big hug in solid arms. You cry into his chest, and it feels like the safest place in the world. 

When you separate, you're giving him watery kisses; on his good ear, on his bad ear, on his cheek, and on his forehead. You kiss his knuckles, black and blue, for good measure. He doesn't kiss you back. 

He rummages through his pack before he leaves, digging out three clear vials and clean needles. They're pressed into your hands wordlessly, with only Joel's eyes – big, brown, expressive – to tell you what he thinks you should do with them. That last brush of hands is all he leaves you with, and a quiet nod. 

You think you prefer it that way; left in that room the way he always does after your time together. Once again, you're left staring at the back of Joel's head; grey curling around the nape, and rough knapsack slung over his coat. 

This time, he looks back; and you commit it to memory, holding it close to your chest in that sunny haze. You love him, you do: that piece of shit, too far gone, this will end in blood or tears or both, sweetheart; Joel Miller. 

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