dystovian

[dystovian]

Birthday Candles

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: At 12 AM, Peter becomes a year older. And since you had to learn about this through the lady at the front desk, you opt to making a surprise cake for him! And who else than to get help from none other than the Birthday Boy himself.

Warning(s): Fluff to Angst to Fluff! Post!No Way Home. Nervous!Insecure!Peter Parker

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Hello! It’s been who knows how long but I saw a prompt on Tiktok a day or two ago by @/yourdailywritingprompt and thought why not!

Prompt Rules: Write a scene between two characters who are making something.

1. They both have feelings for each other but haven’t TOLD each other yet.

2. Include a brief (NOT) moment of physical contact.

3. Have on of the characters say “I love you” without saying those words.

Peter Parker is nervous.

The same Peter Parker that is also a crime fighter. The same one who almost held together a ferry using his own raw strength. Who fought against Thanos, not once, but twice. He’s been beaten to the ground too many times to count. He’d even been shot once. And yet, he can’t even bring himself to knock on your door.

He pulls at his fingers and wrings them together, his palms are dribbled in sweat and he’s afraid to even bother wiping them against his jeans in fear of leaving a mark. He’s about a second away from tearing off his sweater when the elevator just ten feet away dings and out you walk.

“Oh! Hey, Peter! Have you been knocking? Sorry to keep you waiting.” You laugh a little to yourself, bundles of groceries hanging from your fingers and even up to your elbow, anything to make one trip. Peter reached out quickly to grab what he can. You smile gratefully and struggle to get to the key in your pocket and to the doorknob but you manage.

“It’s alright, I didn’t knock yet.” An awkward thing between a chuckle and a breath of air leaves past his lips. Trying to cover up his embarrassment to admitting that he just sat there at your door for who knows how long. When you say nothing, he almost sighs in relief and instead helps you to put away your groceries. He’s done this before with you, done things in absolute silence and without a word to the other. Assignments, projects, groceries, dishes, and more.

“Are we still making that cake? You know, that little one for your Dad?” He asks, breaking the silence as he reaches for the top shelf of a cabinet. When you shrug, and awkwardly wave your hands around, he assumes and takes it as a maybe.

“Well, he hasn’t called and told me if he’s actually visiting tomorrow or not. But, I think it’s a safe bet to just make the cake anyway, play it safe! Don’t really want to hear him complain about not having one, either.” The last of your speech is kept at a tight mumble, you loved your Father to the core, didn’t mean he was any less likely to complain all the time. You turn and toss a wink at him though, he’ll always know you’re not serious.

“Oh, Okay. Do you wanna start now? Later?” His questions are muffled as he crouched in front of the fridge, head practically inside and resting against the cold puffs of air to cool his red hot cheeks.

“Pete. You looking for something? You might as well become one with the fridge drawers.” You scoff half heartedly, and roll your eyes as affectionately as one could. He’s been weird ever since you stepped out of the elevator, but he’s also been an awkward guy, so you’ve elected to ignore it.

“Fine! Fine, just hot, is all.” He almost skims his head off a shelf when he first heard you speak, but he clears his throat and pats himself on the back for sounding so composed.

He wasn’t, really.

“Alright then… I could have just opened a window! Your decision, though.” You shrug, brushing off his shaky tone. And continue setting up the supplies needed to make today’s cake.

“‘Kay. I’m done. Oh, so we are starting now?” He peeks over your shoulder, seeing that you didn’t need to answer his earlier question, considering one side of the kitchens counters were covered in a plethora of ingredients, tubes, Tupperware, and who knows what else. Peter is no cook. Let alone a baker.

“Yup. Figured we could finish this up as soon as possible, and maybe get take-out? Watch a movie? I’ve been dying to watch that horror movie everyone’s been talking about.” You raise your brows at him, moving so that your hip rests against the counter top. He smiles at you, leaning against his lower back as well as crossing his arms across his chest.

“Aw, c’mon? The one where the girl basically get half ea-!” He’s stopped abruptly when you slap his shoulder in a movement of panic, eyes widened.

“I don’t know shit about it yet! Don’t spoil, sheesh.” You grumble and turn, grabbing some tubes and pipes and handing them to the man in front of you.

“I’m on icing duty?” He raises a brow, and is almost scared when you whip your head back towards him.

“Your… ‘duty’… is to fill the tubes, okay? You’ll be writing on the cake too since you’ve got the steadiest hands I’ve ever seen. Don’t complain, either, that’s the best part!” You offer a light shove against his bicep with your shoulder, and even throw him a kind smile which he gladly returns both gestures.

While he filled the piping tubes with colored icing, you waste no time in adding and mixing all needed ingredients. You were excited, not only were you spending time with your only friend in New York alone, but your Father will be visiting from Massachusetts in no less than 24 hours!

That’s what you’ve been telling Peter, at least.

Realistically, though, this entire plan has been made just three days ago.

When you had first been buzzed in by the older woman at the front desk — if you could call it that — she greeted you with her usual hug and a sway. You pulled back after a few seconds and ask how everything has been. She’s only legally owned the building a few years now, since her husband had passed. So you took to helping her out every now and then.

“Don’t worry about that, hon’. I’ve got it. You should be worrying about that Peter of yours.” You blushed, but blinked owlishly at her, scared that something was wrong, and maybe you hadn’t seen it.

“W-What? Did something happen?” You asked, hands coming to her forearm in mild fear. She chuckles, raising a brow at you as she shakes her head. You remind her of herself, and Peter is simply a younger version of her past lover. You two were perfect.

“Nothing. Yet. But his birthday, it’s in only four days! And last I checked, he doesn’t get a lot of visitors, he didn’t even have any emergency contacts on his apartment’s rental application. You better be here to celebrate with him.” She ‘tsks’ at you, pulling her arm from your firm grasp, and stepping towards her office door. You had put a hand to your mouth now, sad that it was so close from now, but disappointed Peter hadn’t brought it up.

Since you’d met he had been very closed off. He had his moments where he shared his colorful feelings towards fellow classmates and professors. But he never told you about things like family, friends, or even his birthday.

That leads you to today. August 9th, 8:30 PM. Approximately three hours and thirty minutes away until the clock strikes midnight, and Peter is another year older. You vowed to yourself a few days ago that you’d do something for him. And something told you he wasn’t fond of surprises. So you kept it small, and cute, and prayed to Thor himself this would work.

“Hey? You okay? I’ve been saying your name for forever now.” He drags out the last syllable and even laughs a little to himself. Your head turns to look at him with wide doe eyes, as if you’d been caught doing exactly what you were told not to.

“Sorry, what is it?” You shake your head and turn, taking a break for your aching arms for a second to stop your mixing, putting your full attention to Peter.

“Done!” He grins, and points at the filled tubes with a smug gleam in his chocolate eyes. You twitch, it’s a quick thing, but you have this weird feeling in your stomach urging your legs to move.

You want to hug him.

“Oh, well that’s great! If you want to sit down while I finish up, you can.” You smile nervously, hands squeezing each other just a bit too tightly as you whip back around, hiding the obvious embarrassment on your face from your favorite neighbor.

“No, I can’t make you do that alone. I gotta help, please?” His hands form a prayer as he pleads silently at your side now to help. You give him the side-eye, and a serious look, which doesn’t last long once you break and hand him the directions. You point and tap at what you want him to do, and explain how you’d like it done, he nods, barely looking at the directions, and finally goes on with it.

Before you know it, the batter is poured and ready to be baked in the oven. Peter insists he does this part, large Hello Kitty oven mitts on his hands, and your Mother’s old 90’s ‘Kiss the Chef’ Apron wrapped loosely around his neck and waist. He almost giggles when you have to re-tie it as it almost falls forward onto the ovens door.

“Okay, and now we wait.” You clap, and pat yourself on the back with pride. So far, your plan hasn’t been thwarted! Something that usually happened in the past, plans of yours never seemed to work out the way you’d hope, either being called out on too early, or just falling apart all together. But, this was looking promising, Peter wouldn’t question making a cake for your Father, and unbeknownst to you, he’d never turn this down.

The oven lets out a tune of beeps, and you smile as he runs in to pull it out, rests it on the counter top, and lets it cool. When your timer goes off after an hour and a half, your in your aprons in no time, too giddy to be doing this together, like children.

“Your highness.” You bestow upon him the first step to finishing the cake, which he gladly takes with a bow of his own. When he turns to you, with slight confusion, he asks what should be written.

“Oh! Duh. Okay, Start with just a ‘Happy Birthday’ in cursive. I want to do the Dad part!” You nod, slightly nervous with your tone, but if Pete noticed, he says nothing. Just nods and smiles, like always, and starts. You weren’t lying earlier when you told him he had an incredibly steady hand, yet your still shocked just how smoothly he does this. Even the cursive is perfect, he’s just wonderful.

“Okay. How’s that? I think I messed up a bit at the ‘irth’ part, but no going back, so…” He trails off, eyeing his work, before handing you the piping bag. You take it shakily, and attempt at shielding the cake from Peters view before you roughly pipe in his name. You stop though, turn, and animatedly shoo him from the kitchen like a dog.

“Woah, okay, I’ll go. Performance anxiety?” He laughs awkwardly, a little confused but just assumes you’re afraid you’ll mess up. He leaves quickly, shooting you a playful glare before disappearing to the couch. Your shoulders drop in relief as you take a quick deep breath, and finally steady your hand as much as possible, taking some time to write down the name of the man that has changed you for the better. Anything to make it perfect.

“Pete! M’done! Just gonna clean everything else up and then you can come check it out!” You call to him, and stay silent until you hear his confirmation back. You look at the clock, and realize you’ve got about fifteen minutes to take your sweet time cleaning up before you call him in. You do just that, go as slow as possible, and are surprised when Peter doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe too lost in whatever he’s watching on TV, you don’t care, as long as he stays in the other room.

When you finish, wash your hands quickly, and call out to Peter, you’re a little stunned when you don’t hear him respond, and even more so when he doesn’t appear in the kitchen after a minute. So you tiptoe to the door, and your shocked at the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on his side, body sunken comfortably into the sofa, with a pillow under his head and one hugged to his chest. You almost cry. He’s so calm and relaxed and you know he needs the rest, but you think maybe he can get it after this.

“Hey, Petey, can you wake up for me?” You don’t flinch when he wakes startled, eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out if there’s danger. When he realizes there isn’t any, he relaxes softly and throws an arm over his eyes.

“You scared me. Thought something was wrong!” He laughs to himself for a few seconds. Expecting you to tell him why you woke him up, or to apologize. But nothing’s said, he gulps, and is somewhat nervous now, he’s not sure why, but he’s a bit scared to move his arm too.

“Peter.” You whisper softly, and he gets a look at you— hair and silhouette haloed by the large flat screen just behind you, a hand grips the edge of the coffee table that you sit on, with your other hand balancing the cake, candles already stuck in it.

“Little early for the candles, huh?” He sits up now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes quickly before blinking at your strangely encouraging smile. You were acting funny.

“Peter.”

“Mm?” He almost yawns.

“Happy Birthday.” You grin, the hand on the edge of the coffee table comes up to help lower the cake and show him, and his jaw almost drops at the shaky ‘Peter Parker’ written in what could only be described as tame chicken scratch in the same spot where it should say Dad.

Peter Parker is a loser.

Since he’s met you, it’s like he’s developed a rare form of asthma, like you suck up all the air around him and he can barely breathe. Or, maybe he’s allergic to you, he’s always stuttering, and his cheeks and nose go so red, and don’t get him started on the sweaty palms. Yet, he stills comes around. He stops by your place at least three times a week. Sometimes even to see how you were doing, and turning around and quickly entering his own apartment, alone.

Peter has actually saved the world. He’s swinging through the streets of New York City almost every night, and webbing up and knocking out robbers and criminals like it’s nothing. And now, he’s about to start crying in front of you, and he’s terrified he won’t be able to stop.

“You…” He’s staring at the cake, at the unlit candles, and then into your eyes as you bring up a lighter to set them. The flames flicker from the deft silver lighter in your hand, and light the wax wick of the twisted red candles.

“Uhm. Mrs. Ricci told me a few days ago at the front doors. I was a little sad you didn’t tell me, but, I figured there was a reason. So I thought I’d do a small surprise, and we could have the cake together, maybe a sleepover?” You eventually turn your words into a rant, but he’s still staring and blinking. He’s yet to realized you’ve stopped until you clear your throat.

“Mrs. Ricci, told you?” He gulps, ignoring almost everything after that. You nod, and furrow your brows, you’re nervous now. Scared you crossed some unspoken boundaries.

“I..I’m so sorry. I had a feeling you didn’t like surprises but I figured this would be okay! Oh gosh, okay this is embarrassing, look, keep the cake-“

“Stop. No, it’s okay. I’m just..” His eyes are watering, and you finally take a good look at him, face dropping at the shine in his eyes due to the flashing bright television behind you. You blow out the candles quickly, before placing the cake beside you in concern. Hands reaching out gently to hold his hands on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, so gentle that the tears start to fall, landing upon his shirt as he blinks and blinks at you. Face and eyes scrunched up in what you could only guess was pain.

“It’s nothing. Nothing.” He gets it out, barely, before he feels you stand, dropping his hands. He’s disappointed for a second, scared he ran you out. You were going to leave, cause he was a loser.

“Oh, Pete.” You breathe, and step forward between his knees, arms reaching down to squeeze his shoulders. He wastes no time in burying his face in your stomach, letting everything out from the past year and a half of living here.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be sad I didn’t tell you. I just haven’t celebrated it in a while. I didn’t know if you’d want to know.” His voice is breaking, and stomping all over your heart.

“Of course I’d want to, Peter. You’re my best friend! It doesn’t matter anyway, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t get over! It’s your choice at the end of the day, and I’m happy to celebrate it with you now.” His heart pumps faster when he hears you call him your best friend.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, muffled by the fabric of your graphic tee.

“No worries. Ready for the candles?” You ask, pulling back and smiling as he looks up at you, hands coming to rest on the sides of his face. He nods, hands trying to stay stuck to you as long as possible as you sit back down and re light the candles.

“No singing.” He murmurs, which elicited a sharp laugh from you. You weren’t laughing at him by any means, you just thought it was cute and endearing.

“Okay, okay.” You smile widely, ear to ear sincerely. “Happy Birthday, Peter Parker.”

The candles are blown out. And the second you place the cake back down and begin to clap as silently as possible (for the sake of your neighbors), Peter leans forward and hugs you this time. Arms wrapping tightly around your back, where his fingers rub circles into your sides.

“Can we sleep, eat this in the morning?” He asks, eyes closed as he takes in what will now be one of his favorite memories. You hug back, nod, and slide your hand over the back of his head and over his hair. Butterflies flutter and crash into each other in his stomach, and he’s sure he might pass away right then and there.

He goes into your room and sets up his blankets on the floor, opting to sleep in your room tonight instead of the couch like usual. But when you return, standing in the doorway with a fond smile upon your lips, he stares.

He’s sure the butterflies are about to burst from him when you grab his hand and lead him to bed. There, the both of you fall asleep on your sides, staring at each other.

Maybe he could learn to like his birthday again.

#marvel x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu #marvel #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader

[dystovian]

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 5: Looming Crisis

Summary: Summer ended only days ago, and with a newfound paranoia, you and Sawyer don’t stay in one place for more than a few days. But now in Nebraska, with your supplies running thinner every day, you opt to search for supplies nearby.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader

Warning(s): Clickers, Swearing, Fighting, Guns, typical Last of us things tbh

A/N: kinda long but say hi to Ellie and Joel, if you’re curious as to the timeline, at the moment, Ellie and Joel are on their way to Jackson, and are only a state away!

2033.

Nebraska.

Having to walk until your feet ache with Sawyer is probably one of the most mind-aching things you’ve had to endure. Well, probably not, but you’re definitely not having the time of your life right now. They talk, talk, and talk, despite it only being a year since you became close again, Sawyer seemed hellbent on making up for all the years you two didn’t speak.

But you reach your destination, luckily, it’s a shopping center, though likely ransacked by fellow humans, that could still hold valuables. Sawyer cheers silently, as they hated having to wake up so early to get here before the sun went down, hated having to walk so so far. Your eyes roll, and you push them lightly as you continue forward. A good feeling envelops you.

When you enter the first store, it’s mainly clothing and other things that aren’t necessarily needed. But you take advantage of this. You and Sawyer get some new, clean, and preferably plain clothing. Of course, though, you have to keep watch outside the store while Sawyer plays around with useless things. Sawyer insists on being fine alone, and allows you to check the building next to you. It’s when you reach it, this restaurant, that you feel you’ve hit some sort of jackpot. The place looks as though it’s been untouched for so long, there’s dust settled on the floor with no prints to indicate the shoes of another. Even the doors have collected particles.

“Soy! Come in here.” You’re grinning as you stand in the center of the restaurant, passing by the tables and rubbing your finger against the wood, watching a trail appear within the dust. You’re excited, this is good, there has to be something in here, anything. You turn to call their name again.

Your excitement is short lived, and filled with fear. Sawyer comes up behind you, hand grasping around your mouth to make sure no sound escapes you. It’s only when you hear clicks that your eyes widen into even bigger saucers than before.

“Go, go go go.” You whisper as quietly as you can, moving as slow and silent as possible while pushing Sawyer towards the bar section of the dining area. You both hide behind it, opting to stay as still as possible while the clickers enter the restaurant. You shake your head at how stupid you had to have been to let your guard down, and slowly but surely take off your pack. You need something, anything, to toss, throw, spike.

Nothing. You have nothing. You missed your chance to grab a bottle off one of the tables, and the bottles behind the bar were so cluttered together, you knew by just moving one, they’d all clank together, or topple over like bowling pins. Sawyer seems to notice this as well, but checks their bag regardless. It’s only then that you realize Sawyer is the only one with a gun, after you had so carelessly lost yours a week or two back.

Sawyer was checking when you heard a swish, and then a loud thump. The head of a clicker landed directly by your feet, peeking around the corner of the bar, with an arrow sticking from its head. You’re stunned, unable to move, you know that the other clickers are going to you now, drawn to the sound. But by the time you go to look at Sawyer, you’re flinching at the sound of two more thumps. Arrows effectively taking out the remaining Clickers.

You and Sawyer, slowly move onto your feet, making sure you stay crouched behind the bar. You stop again when footsteps enter the restaurant, and two voices seem to start conversing.

“So, what do you think? How’d I do?” A young girl asks, though, you don’t hear anyone answer, as blood rushes through your ears when you see her hand reach down at the shaft of the arrow embedded in the head of a Clicker. Her head just in view of you both, she turns, eyes widening. Before you have time to react, she shouts, alerting your presence to her partner. You and Sawyer quickly stand, Sawyer draws their gun, aiming at the older man just at the tables by the door, while you lunge and grasp the girl before she can do anything.

“Fucker! Let me go!” She struggles, but she’s small, and you’re not. So you tighten your grip, and stare down the man. He has up a handgun, pointing it back and forth between you and your friend.

“Put your weapons on the fucking ground, and slide them toward us!” Sawyer bellows, hands steady despite the gravity of the situation. “Y’hear me?! I said, put them on the fuckin-“ Sawyer gets cut off with a piercing scream, as a bullet goes directly into the meat on their bicep. The pistol they were holding falls to the ground as they cry out, falling onto a knee and holding at the open wound. Your grip loosens on the girl with the intent of running to your friend, but the girl slips away from you to grab the pistol Sawyer dropped on top of the bars counter. And the man, who no doubt towered over you in height, barrels into you, slamming you through the swinging kitchen door.

Your head bounces off the ground, and your thoughts are swimming. But you’re in fight or flight, adamant on survival, on getting back to your family only a door away. The man pushes his forearm against your throat, and you grunt in agony. Another gunshot echoes throughout, and you begin to struggle harder, eyes watering from pain, and fear. Your legs kick and kick at him, but he doesn’t stop. You’re gonna die, you’re gonna die at the hands of a man and his daughter, and your family is going down with you.

Suddenly you’re sucking in as much air as possible now, as the girl pulls him off of you as best she can. You launch into a sitting position and grasp at your throat, coughing towards the floor. The man and girl yell at each other, going back through the door for who knows what, only to come back to you. His hands grip your upper arm, but you’re getting dizzy and things are blurry. As things get darker, and your body slumps, you hear crying, and more shouting.

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #tlou joel #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel my beloved #why r u so cruel #ellie williams

[dystovian]

The Last Of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 4: The Shifting Tides

Summary: It’s been almost a decade, and the Burrowers were good at survival, impeccable at it, even. They’ve managed to keep most, if not all of their people alive, including you and Sawyer, but things are shifting, and you need to flee.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (next chap😏)

Warning(s): Violence, Talks of Murder, Cannibalism, Trafficking, Weapons, Standard Last of Us stuff😩

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for just now writing something, it’s been way too long but i promise to be more on this series than before! please enjoy! ALSO I PROMISE JOEL COMES NEXT CHAPTER PLS!!!!:!!:

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

2032.

Illinois.

This fenced in community, that of the Burrowers, was welcoming. It became your home in no time — the rocky roads connecting streets filled with loving and strong people, to sturdy, multi-family homes that reminded you of your past.

There was a beach, just in view of your very own window. It was small, quaint, with rocks and shells that poked at the soles of your feet. And water, that crashed on the shore at night and jolted you awake. Jolted you into panic attacks that had you crying out for the father you haven’t seen in two decades. Crying out for his touch and his voice, that you pray to feel and hear again. That you’ve forgotten.

Yet, as you sit at your kitchen table, a record playing quietly from just near the couch in your very own living room, your brows furrowed from the onslaught of thoughts and feelings about the rumors and whispers coming from the residents lately.

It started last week, when Sawyer walked into the gated community, shouting and stomping their feet. Blood covering their arms and legs, profanities and threats launched toward Alex’s righthand man. They jumped at him, fingers grasping his throat. Hell broke loose, so people pulled them apart. You hadn’t a clue what was happening. You’d heard gossip that something came out of nowhere, which almost got Sawyer killed, and inadvertently; their partner slaughtered.

Since you arrived here almost a decade ago, you and Sawyer tended to avoid each other. Rarely speaking unless absolutely necessary, during meetings, or out on runs. So finding out what made them so angry was lost to the wind. Simply a game of telephone from what others heard, or rumors being spread.

The worst one? That Alex and Amy were trying to kill their own people.

You didn’t believe it, you couldn’t. Never would you have thought they would even attempt nor be capable of it. But when another group disappeared not even three days later, and one of them showed up at the front gates infected in less than 12 hours, you grew suspicious. You needed to talk to them, try to understand that perhaps it’s all some misunderstanding. Or, that it’s just someone framing them.

The leaves crunch at your feet when you step onto the road, and they seem to get even louder the closer you get to the makeshift courtroom, the one you know Amy stays in until the early hours of the morning. And your blood is rushing in your ears when that door opens and you’re face to face with Amy, who looks up from her work only momentarily with a cold glare. She knows, and you know she does.

“Come. Sit.” She says, sweetly. Still staring down at papers filled with content you will never see. You listen, sitting in a chair only about five feet away from the desk she sits behind.

“I...I wanted to speak with you? About...things. Whatever happened with Sawyer, and their partner. And with whatever these...rumors...are about.” You wrung your fingers together, staring intently at your nails as you struggle to get your words across. She sighs the second you stop speaking, and slides her pen and papers to the side.

“Y/N, you’re a great contributor to this community, and I can assure you there isn’t anything to worry about. Sawyer was just being irrational, and jumping to conclusions. That’s all you need to know, and will know about the situation. Capisce?” She huffed out. You were silent, hesitant, yet determined for some semblance of an answer. So you stared, and waited.

“There’s no budging you, is there?” Amy stood, hands sliding into the pockets of her pants, “I can put my trust in you, is that correct?” By now, she had walked around the wood desk and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“Ye- Uhm, yes. Yes you can. You know that, Amy.” Now, the nerves were setting in, she was about to tell you what’s been going on and you don’t know how you’ll react. If it’s bad, you just know you’ll either have to fight, or run for the hills. You can only hope and pray that whatever comes next is just some miscalculation.

“Alright, then. If that’s the case, me and Alex will talk to you tomorrow night. This is something I must discuss with him first, before I go around telling it to anybody, and yes, that means you.” She pushed herself off the desk, and grins. “I’ll see you then, okay?” You nod.

Tomorrow never came.

By the time you reached your home, Sawyer was already pacing back and forth on your porch, mumbling to themselves about who knows what. And the second your eyes connect, they’re running up to you and grabbing your arm, almost dragging you into your home. They breathe deeply, and their hands are shaking as they rant and rant on what happened, and what will happen.

“I’m fuckin’ next, okay?” They keep a low voice. “They got my fucking girlfriend, and then they’re gonna get me next run. And then, you’re gonna figure it out, and they’re gonna get you too.” Your arms are out, trying to slow down the pacing and calm them, but they slap you away. You simply sigh.

“Okay, okay, okay. Just breathe, alright? I don’t know what’s going on, and I need you to explain it to m-“

“They killed Agatha, and when they did; I hid, I found a place to hide and I stayed there. Those fucking monsters, talking about how they have some weird ass deal with the ‘Burrowers’ and ‘their people’, saying that Amy and Alex better keep up with their numbers next time, or they’re gonna fuckin’ shoot the place up! They’re fucking trafficking people, Y/N! Who knows what for, probably cannibalism!” Sawyer’s hand gestures get more and more rapid with each word that leaves their mouth, and next thing you know their hands are gripping and shaking your shoulders. “We have to leave. I’m not staying, and I need to leave with you, cause if I don’t, I’ll never be able to live with myself. So please. Get your fuckin’ shit.”

You have no chance to ask any questions, or stop them from doing this. But you listen, you get the bare essentials into your biggest backpack, and wait with every backup weapon hidden in the floorboard below your bed from almost 7 years ago.

Then you leave, you don’t know how long you walked, or how far. But you reach somewhere safe, and secluded, and take a breather. You rest, and feel sad for what you left behind, but a new emotion blooms in you at Sawyer’s back touching yours in some old rickety bed, for the first time in a decade.

#tlou x reader #TLOU #TLOU2 #the last of us x reader #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller

[dystovian]

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 3: Burrow

Summary: The aftermath of death is never nice, especially with the end of the world. You felt you knew how to deal with it, and that’s by moving on as quick as possible. Sawyer, takes this personally, and lets you have a piece of their mind.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (Future)

Warning(s): Language, Talks about Death and Suicide, Arguing, Injuries.

A/N: ok one more chapter i think and joel comes into play! thank u for reading!!

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

Often, before your sister had disappeared, you wouldn’t really bother thinking about the past. You had your future right in front of you, because for all you knew, you and her would be just fine. But, the second you realized she wouldn’t return, and was likely rotting in some field or some building, or running around Infected...it’s all you could think about.

You’d think about the way you grimaced at melted red popsicles and how they stuck to your fingers, coating your skin with red juice. You’d think about how you’d fallen off your bike, not wearing any knee guards and crying out in the street due to the skin on your kneecaps peeling away. You’d mostly think about luxuries, stuff you’d never experience again. Stuff that were so far away from this life, that had left a mark on you.

Something that never left, though? Was grief. Grief followed every living thing with a heartbeat and snuck up on it every chance it got. Grabbed you by the roots of your hair and tossed you to the ground. Grief, which seemed to have a festival just about every second of every day now, with the way things fell apart. Exploding into millions of sparks just like the fireworks on the beach that day.

This was evident now, what with the way the young teenager in the room across from you hasn’t stopped crying, even within their sleep their tears are evident, dripping over their nose and onto the sheets. Evident, shown in the way your shoulders shook violently as the body of a young girl whom you just saw yesterday lay behind you.

In the past, grief was more of a long time thing. Where you could sit in your room and cry all day after your cat had died. But now — with the world gone to shit — it’s different. Someone dies, you cry for a minute, maybe even not at all, then you suck it up. You get the fuck over it, and you move the hell on. Do what they couldn’t, survive, live for them.

Except, you haven’t. You’ve barely even bothered. Sometimes, though, you get this burst of energy. Telling you to go out on a run, get some supplies to help live just a little longer. But you can’t leave Sawyer, not when they’ve barely even spoken, and the last time they did, they made it quite clear of their feelings. Of the state of their mind since the loss of their sister.

“You’ve barely eaten your dinner, y’know.” You had said one night, windows covered with thick wool blankets, and candles lit along the house.

“Mhm.” They muttered, slumped in their chair, eyes staring at the food on their plate.

“Please...you’ve got to eat, Soy. It’ll kill you.” You said, placing your utensils on the wood, leaning forward.

“Awesome.” They scoffed, almost sliding the plate into your lap with the force of their hand.

“Seriously? Are you..” You’d paused in disbelief, “Are you seriously just gonna let yourself fucking starve to death? Sawyer, you need to listen to me. We’re gonna need more food soon, and if I’m going alone, you need to be fit enough to keep watch on this place. Oka-“ You stopped when Sawyer abruptly stood, hands clenched into fists on the wood of the dining room table, head hanging.

“You wanna go? Then fuckin’ go! I don’t give a shit if you leave me here and I certainly don’t care if Infected tear me to goddamn shreds.” They said, tears piling up upon their eyelids.

“You, you do not mean that,” You were standing now, chair almost falling with the force of your movement. Your eyes were wide, with eyebrows raised, shock filing through you.

“Oh, I meant every damn bit of that sentence.” They scoffed.

“Take it back.”

“I ain’t takin’ back sh-“ Their finger goes to point at you, and the second they do, it’s slapped away.

“Take it the fuck back! You listen to me, and you listen to me good. I am not, and I mean absolutely not, going to feel responsible for somebody else dying. I am sick and fucking tired of death, and I know for damn sure you are too. Hell, every last person is! But, and I hate to say this shit you, but you need to move on. You and I both know that’s what Ryan would want. So, take. It. The. Fuck. Back.” You were angry, of course you were. You loved the two of them, they were family to you, and with one of them gone you knew you couldn’t live after you lost the other.

“Well, have you ever stopped to think about what I fucking want? Ryan is dead! Ryan doesn’t have wants or needs or...or anything! I want to die! I don’t want to live anymore. Get that through your thick skull. And, for the love of all that’s ever been holy, quit actin’ like you knew us. You don’t, and won’t, know shit. You didn’t raise us, and you weren’t there when everything went to shit. We’re not your fuckin’ children. And we sure as shit ain’t your sister!” By the time they let it all out, you had sat back down and had taken the blow.

“That’s how it is, then? Hm?”

“Yeah. And quit telling me what I’m ‘supposed’ to do. I’ll move on when I damn well please, and you know what? Fuck you. You already movin’ on after we just pieced my sister back together and buried her in the backyard. The backyard, of some house, that we only knew for a year! She should’ve died old, with a family, or something! She...she should’ve died normally. Old age, or a stroke, or a fuckin’ heart attack...I don’t know! But instead, she got eaten alive, and blew her brains out before she could become one of those things! So don’t talk to me about moving on, when we both know there’s no moving on from that.” They were in front of you now, tears streaming over the red of their cheeks, face hot from anger.

Since then, you’ve barely spoken to the other. Choosing to stay quiet during dinner, which began happening less and less with your shortage of food. You finally came to Sawyer one day, and told them that you couldn’t stay here any longer. That the streets have more and more Infected every week, and the whole town is empty of food.

They agreed, nodding their head in silent agreement, eyes drawn away from your own.

2 0 2 5.

Illinois.

Ryan’s name hasn’t left either of your mouths. Not during dinner, not even in passing. Not even in your sleep, did either of you cry out her name and sob afterwards.

After everything that happened, you left the house. The room she died in was loud, almost frighteningly so, and filled with the phantom screams of her last moments. Something, that both you and her sister, couldn’t quite stand beside anymore. So, you left. Walked and walked and walked, barely talking to the other at first. And sure as hell keeping her name out of your mouth.

You didn’t say her name again until a group took you in, asked you about your past, and you delivered. Spilled your hearts content onto the plastic table in front of you, until you broke down, and the lovely couple in front of you — Alex and his wife, Amy — stopped you, rubbing their hands on your back.

Although you’ve been through hell and back these last six years, Ryan always lingered. You’d see her in the corpses that littered streets and the homes you’d spend a few nights in. See her in the way Sawyer carried themself, or spoke, or cried.

You didn’t forgive eachother, you rarely talked of that argument in the dining room that night. You simply opted to get the hell over it, if you don’t talk about it then I guess it just didn’t happen. And now, being taken in by this group that call themselves the Burrowers, the conversation is begging to be had.

Sawyer didn’t stay with you long, you shared a home for four days before they left, got their own place. And you haven’t seen them since.

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #tlou #the last of us x reader #the last of us

[dystovian]

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 2: Watchful Eyes

Summary: Within the past year you’ve done nothing but travel, survive, and live with two kids. Two kids who seemed to be fairing quite well in the apocalypse, and two kids who also seemed to be growing on you, and fast. But what happens when you and Sawyer leave the house to Ryan’s watch for a day?

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (Future)

Warning(s): Language, Death, Anxiety, Grief

A/N: tried to make this chapter a little bit longer, but felt like i got a little too long so i feel like i might have rushed the ending 🥴 either way, i’m gonna try to update every couple days, but if i don’t i’m likely writing multiple chapters at once, either way..thanks for reading!

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

2 0 1 9.

Kentucky.

It’s been a little over a year, and your luck has proven to be on your side. These two kids stuck to you like glue, protecting you while you did the same in return. Giving you shelter, food, and more. And yet, they rarely asked for anything, nothing but your watchful eye. It was easier than you thought, watching over a couple kids. Especially ones so capable, so strong. Yet...

So goddamned stubborn.

As you sat across them at the dusty dining room table you’ve had dinner at so many times, arms crossed over your chest, slouched into the chair as low as possible, and the thickest most outrageous urge to lean over and slam their heads into the wood. Ryan stood to the side, arms crossed just like yours, and a rifle leaning against the wall just beside her.

Sawyer, on the other hand, looked rightfully and royally pissed the fuck off. Sitting just across the table, hands entwined upon their lap. They had every right to be as stubborn as a boulder, every right to make the calls around here. But you’ve been pulling your weight too, and you can’t sit around and just let a couple kids make every damn decision.

“I’m going. Okay? It’s quieter if it’s just one person, anyways.” Your head leaned towards the other shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m the only one who should go!” Sawyer snapped, a hand coming down upon the table with a sharp clap.

“Hey hey hey, hold on. I thought you said I was coming too?!” Ryan said, moving from her place against the wall to stand beside her sibling, betrayed at the change of plans which were originally meant to include her.

“I changed my mind. You’re not going, and like [Y/N] said....it’s quieter with just one person. I’m quicker on my feet too, and you know it.” Sawyer whisper-yelled, standing to appear taller and more authoritative against their sister.

“Quick doesn’t mean quiet, dumbass!”

“Just effing kill me...” You muttered, hands sliding down your face, their arguing continuing, as you slouched even further into the dining room chair.

This was meant to be a quick touch and go. You run into the building, grab what you need, and return home with a smile on your face. But, of course, you were meant to leave over two hours ago now, and your patience was running thin. These two kids insisted on doing it while you stayed behind and kept watch.

At this point, you were about to give up, just let Sawyer go and stay behind and keep watch with Ryan. But it appears the two siblings came to an agreement while you had tuned them out, and you would be going with Sawyer, and Ryan would have to stay back.

“That’s so not fair, man...” Ryan huffed, grabbing her rifle and stomping off into the living room. Sawyer turned to you, rolled their eyes, and stomped off to gather their things. God, were you like this when you were younger too? You should have apologized to your dad for being so...so annoying.

By the time you had left, Ryan seemed to have gotten over it. Opting to be proud of being so trusted to watch the place. You smiled, pulled the girl into a side hug, and left with a small feeling of hope pulling at your heart, and something sinister lurking within the pits of your belly.

But things went well, perfectly fine, in fact! You barely came across any Infected, nor any signs of other survivors. Though, you now had to spend the night at some nearby house due to the setting sun, you didn’t even care. You had what you needed, and you wouldn’t be going home empty handed. Sawyer was happy, as well. Being able to go home with just about anything was a plus, especially if it meant their sister wouldn’t starve to death.

“Get some rest. I can keep watch. We’ll leave the second the sun comes up, okay?” You pat the teenagers shoulder, your lips pressed together in an encouraging smile. The kid deserved some rest, all they seemed to do was work, hunt, scavenge. Anything to keep your bellies full, and your minds at ease.

The night was quiet, simple, although the snap of a twig alerted you to the presence of an Infected, it didn’t seem to notice you and it continued on its way. Going on your way that following morning, you couldn’t help but struggle to understand the weight in your stomach. The urge to stop and run all at the same time.

“Hey. You doing okay?” Sawyer stopped mid walk, turned to you, and rubbed your shoulder blade. Something they haven’t done before. They’re growing onto the idea that you’ll be with them a while, and you enjoyed the way that pit disappeared and was replaced with a warmth. You felt...easy. Happy, despite the loss of your sister. The loss that still pulled so heavy on your aching soul.

The moment is interrupted by another pat to your back, and you quickly nod, reassuring your friend that everything is just fine. Thinking, that’s all. Their hand slips from your back and they re-enter the pace they had before. You fall in place next to them, that strange feeling returning, yet you don’t address it. Not even to yourself.

When you return, you begin to understand. The house you grew to love had become quiet. Not even a clanking of the makeshift alarm system, which is literally a bunch of cans on a string. That feeling you had seems to have coated the early morning air as well, and Sawyer feels it too. You’re both stuck on the sidewalk, staring, waiting.

You waited for what felt like forever. What you were waiting for, you didn’t know. Perhaps for Ryan to come out with a grin, or for some infected to round the corner. And yet...nothing came. Not a grunt, not a chuckle, not even the ringing of the wind chime across the street. The both of you were stuck. Weighing the options, do you call out to the younger sibling, or do you go searching inside? You decided on the latter, and Sawyer reluctantly followed.

Entering the house, you felt like something had wrapped you around the chest and squeezed, giving you a warning, a threat of what’s to come. You sweep the first floor, and find nothing. You turn the corner and stare up the steps. That feeling, it comes again, but this time it stops you, and you can’t seem to force yourself up those stairs.

Sawyer, with their courageous efforts, shoulders past you and goes silently up the carpeted flight of steps. Not a creak within the wood underneath, nor a thump follows their wake. You follow, despite something telling you, no, screaming at you to run. Find somewhere safe, and don’t come out.

You get the answer to that feeling within seconds. Because the moment you reach that top step, the atmosphere shifts. It’s still quiet, but the silence is so loud. You know something is wrong, so terribly wrong. And you don’t want Sawyer to be the one to find what could have happened.

As Sawyer checks the first room on the left, you check the one at the end of the hall. And, unfortunately, you see it first, the ruined body of the girl you felt like a sister to, the girl that grew on you so quickly. A gasp leaves you, and Sawyer comes running, you panic and turn, hands coming to their face to block their eyes.

“Don’t look! No!” You heart rate was so frantic, frantic to keep the teen from seeing what had become of the young girl just in the room behind you. You turn them around, arms wrapping around their waist, wrestling their urge to see.

“Let me the fuck go! Now!” They were shouting, you didn’t even bother shushing them. Now that you had man-handled them to the ground, it was harder to keep your grip but you powered through. It didn’t work, though, Sawyer had slipped from your grasp and by the time you had rolled over, you saw them fall to their knees at the bedroom door.

You crawled up behind them again, arms coming to wrap them into some strange and uncomfortable hug. Letting them come apart in your hands, let their heart turn to ash due to the sight of their mangled sister. The cries were piercing, and your head felt like it was splitting. Sawyer’s fists slammed into the carpeted floor, and the cries grew louder and louder.

This time, you shushed them, and dragged them as far away from the door as possible, shutting it behind you. They didn’t fight, didn’t push you back. Just went limp, and sobbed into your chest. Your back leaned against the door that hid a scene straight out of some nightmare, and your front was covered by a grieving sibling.

—

The following morning, after Sawyer had finally fallen to sleep, and you confirmed the absence of Infected, you entered the room again. It felt wrong, almost forbidden, but you couldn’t leave her there. You gathered her up, placed her on the bed and covered her with a nearby blanket. This was hard, extremely. You couldn’t imagine what she had to have gone through to end up like this, and with the way she seemed to be missing so much of her it must have been Infected.

You sat on that bed and whimpered, your fingers rubbing your eyes to quell the headache reaching your skull. To quell the tears that spilled into your lap and the new ache that settled within the confines of your heart.

#the last of us #tlou #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x reader

[dystovian]

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely.

Chapter 1: Lost and Found.

Summary: 5 years have gone and passed. And with your new settlement with your sister in a cabin, she goes to search for more food. Only, she doesn’t return, and under unfortunate circumstances you’re forced to leave. But find something new, and better.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (eventually!)

Warning(s): Talks of Death, as well as graphic (but very brief) talk of Suicide. Fire, Violence.

A/N: quick side note, your character is 19 during the Prologue, so you’re around 24 during this chapter. Your sister is only 3 years older than you! also sorry these chapters are kinda short, once i get towards the main storyline i promise they’ll be longer!! also i am terrible at descriptions 😔

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

2 0 1 8.

Pennsylvania.

Your food is running low. You know it. Yet you don’t have the energy to go out and search. Don’t have the energy to draw your bow and go hunting. Don’t even have the energy to search for your sister who hasn’t returned in over two weeks.

She said it’d be a long trip, one that would in fact last around two to three weeks. But you rarely trusted a thing that came from that girls mouth. You wanted to search for her, you really did, but your mind wouldn’t allow you. Told you to stay put in case she returns. Stay where you are, and eventually that door would open, and she’d waltz in with so much food you wouldn’t have to leave the cabin again.

So you did. You stayed exactly where you were, but after another few days with no signs of her coming back, you went out to hunt and scavenge. Returning with enough to last you another two weeks, and with a newfound feeling that she was back. She had to be, right?

Wrong.

You entered that cabin with hope, and stayed in it with despair. Nothing was moved, nothing was changed. Just dust settled on shelves and fly’s buzzing by the windows. She’s dead, gone. Never to return. Or perhaps she abandoned you, left you behind. And now you were alone, forced to fight and fend for yourself with no help from the only person you had left.

From then on, you were by yourself, staying in that cabin until eventually, during a tough fist fight with an infected, the house lights up in a blazing flame, smoke billowing into the sky. Once again, you are left with nothing. Nothing to comfort you or make you feel safe, and most definitely nothing in your heart to keep you happy.

As you lay several feet away from that burning cabin, flames only an arms length or two away from grabbing your ankles, you cry. Absolutely bawl your eyes out on the ground of that forest, seeming to lose all care for any straggler or infected that came your way. Let them, you thought, let them take me, bite me, kill me. But, unfortunately for you and your careless brain, nothing, nobody came. Not a runner, not a hunter, and certainly not your sister.

You wanted to disappear, fall off the face of the Earth and never see the light of day again. And yet, despite your wishes, you could never bring yourself to putting that cold end of your pistol to your dome. Never get close to a rope, and never get close to that high cliff nearby, and plummet to your certain death.

But, with some newly brewing emotion, one you can’t quite place your finger upon, you stand. Rise from the leaves and walk away from the flames, far far away, maybe until you find a home, or maybe it’s to find your sister, you’re not quite certain. What you are certain about, is that you just lost most of your food and supplies, and didn’t exactly care what happened to you.

Not until them.

Two kids. Ryan, around 14, and her sibling, Sawyer, a 17 year old with a spitfire attitude and one strong as hell swing. Which you knew, what with the way they swung their bat at your skull and nearly took off your head if you hadn’t seen it coming. Two kids, all alone. Just like you.

This was good, this was ok. You found others. Ones that you could trust and confide in, and ones that could trust and confide in you. All you had to do was keep them and yourself safe. Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

#tlou #the last of us #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader

[dystovian]

The Last of Us: How to Disappear Completely.

Prologue.

Summary: You have to live by rules, especially now, when the world has fallen apart and nobody abides by the law, so you create your own. One of those laws; disappear completely. But this plan of yours becomes harder than it should be when you bump into some old man and his daughter.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (future)

Warning(s): Death, Violence, Mentioned Drugs and Alcohol

A/N: hello i wanted to start a TLOU series bc i really like this game and have never written anything apocalypse related and thought it’d be fun! this prologue is the introduction to your story, and the first couple chapter will be mainly about you!

You hated the beach. Hated the ocean, and the way it’s waves licked up the shore and threatened to grab at your feet. You were forced there almost regularly during the hotter months, dragged like dead weight over hot pavement and pebbles and shells. Over wooden boardwalks through stuffy deposits of people old and young, small and large.

You hadn’t always hated it, having been brought here almost daily as a child, skipping ahead of your father, floaties and sunscreen at the ready. You loved putting on your water shoes, and running into the water with a little boogie board. You loved walking down the shore with your sister, hand in hers, and wading into the swamp of tall grass in search of clams and crabs.

And now, there you sat, hands sifting through minuscule rocks and remnants of shells. Your eyes casted downward, always on the sand that fell between your fingers, always watching it fall to a standstill between your legs. The ocean lay less than 10 feet away, always crashing into the shore with a purpose. Always watching.

Waiting.

A crackle sounds, and laughs erupt from down the way. With a turn of your head, you watch a group of people trip over themselves in the sand, your older sister one of them, running to get away from the onslaught soon to come of sparks that would erupt in the sky. One firework launches first, a trailing blaze coiling into the air, exploding into a splash of yellow.

You didn’t mind it, of course. Fireworks was the only enjoyable thing about Summer, something you looked forward to, and as the line of them began setting off into the air one by one, exploding into bursts of different colors over the sand and water, your sister appears next to you.

“When are we heading back?” You ask, turning your attention back to your hands in the sand. She shrugs, watching you for a moment, before staring off at the skyline. The lights of plenty of boats reflecting off the water, apparent in the dark night, twinkled.

“Dad said we can stay out as long as we want, you know.” She said, quiet enough that you’re surprised you hear it over the fireworks.

“Yeah, I do.” You scoffed, standing and dusting the sand off your legs.

“Look. I understand you hate that I dragged you out here but you and I both know that you need it.” Your sister says, copying your movements, and following you as you walk closer to the fireworks, closer to the stairs that lead out of here.

“Don’t really need anything, got it? I’m walking back to the house.” You left her behind, not caring really whether she’d follow you or not. And yet still, with this choice being your own it weighed on you. You hated the relationship you had, the way it crumbled and became a shell of what it once was.

Midnight finally passes, and the last of the fireworks crackle and die out in the sky, disappearing into the night air. Your sister would be back soon, and you decide that you should get some rest. Tomorrow, you head back home from this vacation, back to school, and frankly, you’d rather stay at the beach for the remainder of the year.

By the time your sister arrives, your father is up and waiting, and an argument ensues. Fighting about curfews, drinking, and drugs, and who knows what else. All the while, as you lie awake under that itchy blanket, the tv still on in the living room blares an emergency alert system, likely another test.

But it’s not. Because sometimes things need to happen, not good things though, because it’s never good things with you. Because there are cars outside slamming into fences and telephone poles, and there are people shouting and screaming bloody murder. And now you’re struggling to breathe as you run downstairs, your sister staring out the kitchen window over the sink, as your father desperately tries and fails to help someone out front.

There you stood. Staring out the window with your sister by your side, as he gets tackled and devoured by several people. You can’t even scream, can’t even cry, because this has to be some sort of sick nightmare, or some sick prank being played. Though, your sister cries beside you, a strangled gasp escaping her lips, and you know this isn’t fake, you know that your father is being torn to pieces by some ill individuals, and you know that his arm gets tossed onto the windshield of the car like a frisbee. You fall to the floor and cover your eyes, you can’t watch his stomach rip apart, and you don’t understand how your sister stands there with wide watery eyes, watching it happen on full display like a movie premiere.

You hated this. You hated that she didn’t try to do anything, let alone call anyone. But you hated even more that you lay on the floor, doing nothing just like her. Hated that you came on this vacation, and hated that you just lost your only anchor to the Earth.

You hated the beach.

#tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #ellie williams #tlou x reader

[dystovian]

Okay, so you are a ambitious businesswoman and you haven’t been able to give thor much time lately so both of you have a huge fight like he breaks your phone and stuff and next day he understands that you can not always be available whenever he likes just like him and gets you a new phone and apologises.

New Phone

Summary: in which thor gets a little too upset.

Pairing: Thor/Reader

A/N: love me some thor😩😩😩, also idk if i wrote him right but i tried my very best (p.s. how does someone add the Keep Reading thing😳)

Warning(s): Swearing, Arguing

“No, Thor! I’m not having this conversation anymore, and you know it!” Your voice was beginning to hurt, and this screaming match you’ve been having with your lover was beginning to prove tiresome to your physical health, wanting nothing more than to slip into the sweet sheets upon your bed, and finally call it a night.

“We need to have this conversation, and you know it!” He repeated after you. Ever since last week, things with Thor have been...stiff. Stuck in the same place, making no movement forward or backward, and, well; it was...awkward. Awkward, awful, frustrating. All the things you fought to avoid within your relationships.

“Oh yeah? Well, guess what? I’m fucking done, i’m going to stay with Pepper or something! If you’re going to keep shouting at me and strutting around like some damned King, you can find me somewhere else!” You voice cracked, yes he was a King, and when visiting New Asgard people treated him as such, but lord help you if you were going to listen to everything that came from the God’s mouth like you were one of his people.

“You’re running away from your problems.”

“Oh, really? And where’d you get that little line from, hm? Bruce? Jesus, I cant do this. You know I love you, and we both know you know that. But I cant drop my job at any time during the day to go on a picnic with you, Thor!” You tore your phone from your sweatshirts pocket, with, what Thor believed, was the attempt to call something akin to a Taxi, or perhaps just asking Pepper to come and get you like you had said. In a panic, he grasped it from you, holding it high above your head as you tried desperately to get it from him.

“You’re not leaving, if you leave, everything will be different. Someone once told me it was bad to go to sleep mad at each other, you know?” You didn’t care, you knew you were running from your issues, just like Thor had said, but you couldn’t deal with this. You had meetings upon meetings scheduled for the next week and a half. And ever since you were younger, avoiding conflict seemed to be your ‘super power’, something said to you by your long time friend, Tony Stark.

Before you could even open you mouth to retort, Thor’s arm came to his side, and with a quick look, you saw the cracks that had newly formed upon the glass of your phone. He had broken it, in his anger and frustration, and no doubt effort to keep it from you, he squeezed too tight, and he had broken it.

That was your last straw, you grabbed the phone from his grasp, seemingly an undoable task by others, but you were so upset you’d be surprised if you didn’t break the phone again yourself. Grabbing a bag from your closet, you began stuffing some clothes into it. Thor was upset, he thought you were leaving, but when you walked up to him, and handed him the bag, it was too late for him to realize the clothes you had packed were actually his. Now, you were shoving him out the door, tears of frustration in your eyes.

He hated seeing you like this, he really did, and he hated himself even more knowing he was the cause. But he just wanted to spend more time with you. Whenever you came home, you went straight to your shared room, only left for the bathroom or dinner, even then, you’d bring your laptop with you, and type furiously. That’s how this all started, he shut your laptop, and asked you to join him somewhere tomorrow. One thing lead to another, and you screamed at each other back and forth.

“You can come back when you’re not mad enough to crush an iPhone 11 in your bare hands.” That was the last thing you said before you slammed the door in his face. He sighed, looking down at the bag you packed for him, he hated that he was just kicked out, but he knew he had to make things better. Cant go to bed mad at each other, right?

An hour or two went by, you couldn’t tell, you were too busy crying on the phone with Pepper. You hated yourself for what you did, but by the time you went back to the door, to invite him back in, he was gone. You had no working phone, and even then, neither did he. What were you supposed to do? A knock was heard at the door, and you excused yourself from your conversation with your friend, walking quietly towards it.

“My love.” He greeted, bowing and handing a small box towards you. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t know if it was hard to believe the fact he even knew where to get an iPhone, or if it was too hard to believe the fact he came back in the first place.

“Thor? Where...Where did you go?”

“Well, we can’t go to bed mad at each other, right? So I got you a new electronic device! Uh, don’t ask how I got it. That doesn’t matter, really. Hm, it looks rather different than yours, but this is all I could find.” He added a smile at the end, and pushed the phone into your hands. You were speechless, bordering on asking him where he got it, or saying thank you.

“That didn’t work, I can go stay with Bruce for a while, if that’s easier for you.” He said, backing up and turning to walk away.

“No! Stay, please. Thank you, Thor. Really. Thank you so much.” You pulled him into a hug, holding the box in one hand, which you noted was in fact a flip phone, and splayed the other hand on his back, rubbing up and down. You then pulled him back into your shared apartment, sitting him down and explaining that you’re busy sometimes, and you can’t just drop everything and go for a walk or go on a date. He apologized, saying he understood, but he was becoming a little touch starved, and asked that you at least go to bed early instead of being up all night on your laptop. You nodded, and kissed him on the forehead, deciding on not asking where he got the flip phone.

#thor x reader #marvel x reader

[dystovian]

marvel requests

send in some angst prompts for a marvel x reader pls i’m best at angst 😏😏

#marvel x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel requests #thor x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #loki x reader

[dystovian]

Can you do 20 for loki? :3c

Black Field

Summary: in which a mutant falls for a god.

Pairing: Loki/Reader

A/N: uhh this is proving to be extremely long so i may have to do a part 2 🥴

Ever since you were young, you pushed yourself into a newly built reality in your head, you wanted so badly to be a hero, to save people, to bring others hope. And seeing others live out your dream through the other side of a screen gave you your own blossoming warmth of hope that radiated from your heart to the rest of your body.

So, you went out during the night, trained yourself to fight and eventually used that training to fight off simple bad guys. An occasional gunmen at the corner store, or a bully throwing a sub at the homeless man down the street from the park. Or when you fought, desperately, to pry your niece and brother from the hands of a stranger, and watched with fear as they disappeared before your very eyes, falling into a black hole in the ground.

You were taken in, questioned, held for hours upon hours. Until another group of people came in, asking you more questions over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore, you bawled your eyes out in that lonely room, fingers pulsing against your legs. You gripped the table, and you would have tossed it to the side if you weren’t chained to it like an animal.

“Let me out of here! I did nothing wrong!” You were furious, what had you done except watch your only family disappear in front of you, all that training and you couldn’t do a thing. It wasn’t until someone gripped your shoulders that you felt calm wash over you, your limbs becoming weaker and weaker until you slumped against the table and slept.

“Wake up.”

That was four months ago, since that day, you still talked to the agents about the disappearance of your brother, and your niece. Sometimes, new ones would visit, ask you questions that you’ve already heard before, and you hadn’t an idea why. You were a bystander, and they treated you like the cause.

“I’m just saying that I literally didn’t do a thing. I was an innocent bystander to the crime committed against my family, and you have the audacity to come to my door, ask me questions, and expect an answer? I. Don’t. Know. What. Happened. Now get out before I call the cops or...something.” You slammed the door in their face, hoping that maybe they’d get the point and finally leave you alone.

Weeks went by, and it happened again, another person disappeared into a deep pit, and you gasped as the hole closed in the blink of an eye. They weren’t innocent, by all means, gods no. They were awful, they abused and used people, including their own family. But it still surprised you, scared you even.

You were taken in again, how you might ask, that’s something not even you know. How someone could have witnessed this in such a dark alley on a Wednesday night at 10:43 PM escaped you, yet, they found you, chained you to a table, and forced you to explain.

It was you, they said, you did this. And something clicked, you grew so angry, impossibly upset, tore the cuff from your wrist, and sent the table flying into the two agents guarding the door, and watched again as another fell into the ground. You howled practically, yelped and hollered as you came to terms with your ability. It was you, all along, you killed your family, an evil man, and an innocent woman.

That’s when you met him, a God, serving his punishment on Earth as a recruiter of the Avengers for the time being. He soothed you when you cried, made sure you slept deeply in your cell, and always managed to avoid your mutant gene that gave out under his feet. You fell for him, you were utterly fascinated by the God. And as was he with you, your oddity was cruel to you, it took away your family, and brought you away from your home, something he knew all too well.

“Are you awake, Y/N? I’m here for our training.” He said, whisking through the wall, not even bothering to actually knock.

“Yea, I am awake. I don’t want to train today, maybe another time.” You spoke, quite distracted as you flipped a page in your book, looking quite curious about the words it holds.

“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it? We have to train, Y/N, you know this. It’s-“

“Right, it’s what Fury wants, no! Needs me to do, right? I deserve a break too, y’know.” You snapped, tossing the book to your side.

“That’s rather true, but like you told me..this is what you’ve always wanted, am I wrong? You said you always wanted to be a hero, and how can you do that if you can’t even control your power? Hm?” You hated him sometimes, really, you did. But he was right, you wouldn’t be able to leave this cell, albeit a comfy one, until you could control yourself.

You’ll fix that, eventually.

#marvel x reader #loki x reader

[dystovian]

Bucky Prompt Idea: Set in infinity war, the reader has spent the past few years in Wakanda with Bucky, helping him recover from the events of Civil War. To be more useful to the community, she teaches younger children in the village about the outside world. Bucky stumbles upon one of her lessons one day and is in complete awe of how precious she is & how she makes his heart soar. During the battle, maybe reader and Bucky fight alongside one another and flirt while kicking ass? Just some much needed wholesome Bucky fluff (and maybe some angst if you want, with the snap causing him (or her) to vanish?) thank you! ❤️

The Beauty in Life

Summary: in which not all good things last.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader

A/N: THANK U SM FOR THE LOVE ON MY PREVIOUS FIC I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!! and, will buck get a break ever? no, likely not! will he get one in tfatws....probably...not. :) i’m in pain! 😃. also, sorry buck and the reader didn’t have much talking time, i didn’t want to put too much dialogue!

Healing. It’s what you were built for, what you were trained for. Taking people who have fallen apart, and intricately piecing them back together similar to that of a puzzle. It was difficult, yes, but you always managed.

James Buchanan Barnes was the most confusing puzzle you have come across, in all of your years of torture among Hydra’s walls, not once had you come across someone with so many missing pieces. One or two, yes, that was normal. But it seemed as if a vacuum came by and occasionally sucked up a fallen one, leading you straight back to square one during a session with him.

It wasn’t until his residence at Wakanda that you realized that all along you weren’t missing any pieces, they weren’t lost in the deep hole of a cleaning device, or a black hole. But simply lost under the rug, in hiding. When he lost his arm, yes, again, a weight lifted off his back as if he had been carrying the entire planet.

Caring for Bucky in Wakanda didn’t satisfy your thoughts. You felt like you were holding T’Challa and his people back, simply resting during the night, waking for Bucky and Bucky only. That quickly changed when Shuri ushered you to her one day, asking that you act as a substitute teacher for a history class due to the passing of their former teacher. You said yes, you wouldn’t pass up on the chance to fill a purposeful role.

Bucky’s favorite thing to do to pass the time besides caring for livestock, or watching the clouds, was undoubtedly joining your class. He loved when the children asked him questions, albeit most of them were a bit too personal, but he always answered as many as he could. The students, and you, never minded his presence, and had no issues if he got overwhelmed and had to exit the room.

“Overwhelming children, aren’t they?” T’Challa chuckled, a hand reaching to squeeze the Super Soldiers shoulder from behind, a kind but reassuring smile upon his lips.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a little scary. But it’s fun coming to visit them, they’re always eager to learn something, even if it’s a distraction.” He smiled, looking at his feet. Truth be told, he didn’t initially start coming to see the children. It was you that had offered a seat for him, welcoming him with open arms every single visit, with a lovely smile on your face. And, wow, the passion you put into teaching the children was unmatched, he admired you, he really did. Always eager to help, teach, and heal others.

“Yes, always eager. Just as you are to see Y/N. Am I correct?” The Wakandan King commented, watching as you used your ability to calm a child down after breaking their pencil, eyes and hands gentle yet swift to repair their emotions. Bucky spluttered, blinking once or twice as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but poor Buck didn’t think he was that obvious when it came to his excitement to see you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it to mysel-“

“My King, your presence is called for.” Someone called from feet away, interrupting the two, T’Challa nodded before turning to Bucky and smiling, only to walk away with another at his side. Bucky turned back to the window that looked on into your classroom, and while standing in that hallway he realized that maybe he should tell you about his admiration for you, as it’s not everyday that good things last.

But Bucky was right, nothing good ever lasted. Two days later, as Bucky tended to his goats, soldiers approached, and without a word he understood. Perhaps, one day, he could live peacefully, perhaps with his best friend, or even you by his side. But today wasn’t that day, today he had to fight.

Things escalated rather quickly, and before he knew it he was battling aliens on rolling fields with you just nearby, and a...raccoon? Almost as if by muscle memory, he barreled into the enemies with his weapon, and you tore them apart from the inside out.

“I like the arm, Bucks! Looks good on you, I’d try and keep this one, though.” You shouted through the chaos, momentarily creating what seemed like an invisible shield around the two of you in order to regain your composure. This was overwhelming, but nothing would stop you from checking in on Bucky.

“Thanks, Doll. And you should keep that haircut, you look great!” He laughed, shaking his flesh arm of a cramp. And of course, your shield dropped, and you went right back to it, fighting the bad guys, something you’ve done for years.

Soon, it was silent, birds flying away from the trees in flurries as they danced against the skyline, the grass beneath you tickling your ankles due to the breeze. Something was wrong, so terribly wrong, by the gods you didn’t want this, you wanted peace, you wanted to wake up everyday to the birds outside your window singing wonderful songs, you wanted to hum along to radio doing the dishes. You wanted a life with him, with Buck.

You kept yourself together using your ability, using your experience in keeping those puzzle pieces together for so long, doing anything to reach Bucky in time, stumbling over tree limbs, over rocks and even pebbles. By the time you reached each other, it was too late. Before the tips of your fingers could even touch, you had both fallen to the ground in a flurry of ash, confessions lost to the whispers and howls of the wind. And promises of a new life washed away by a surge of power.

#bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #😎 please enjoy!

[dystovian]

Could you do Bucky Barnes or Loki with “You are love in its best form.” Or “Let. Her. Go”

The Best Form of Love

Summary: in which a confession is whispered in the small doorway of a library.

Pairing: Loki/Reader

A/N: 😩 yes! set in a world where loki doesn’t die bc wtf 😁👍

The first time you met him, you didn’t speak. No, you barely even looked at each other, because with one look you knew you were unable to handle him. Yes, you totally could take him in a fight, you were confident in that. But his first words to you had you red from head to toe, goosebumps rolling over your body.

“Why, you’ve got a smile on you, don’t you now?” Simple quote, really, it was. But the way he delivered it, the way he carried himself really did not help your case. By the gods, you were truly fascinated by him, this God, so truly and utterly reeled in.

Months had passed, and you barely spoke since then, cocky remarks thrown here, more comments about you thrown there. And, without fail, they got you every time.

“You read, too? You’ve been made for me, darling.” Your grip on the book tightened, and you glanced up at him before quickly shutting the book, but you stopped yourself, you weren’t to run away this time. So you stood your ground, only to quickly cover your face with one hand in hopes to hide the blush that escaped you.

He grinned, seeing his gentle hand reach to grasp the book from you as your other hand covered the other part of your face, almost as if to shove the blush down. My gods, you were truly perfect, he thought.

“I...thank you, Loki. But I’m simply doing research, it’s nothing! Really.” You nodded, clasping your hands together as you stood. What a mistake though, as you were simply just too close to him, nose almost touching his chest.

“Well, you truly looked great doing it! You’re passionate about this topic, no?” Holding the book with his hands, he lifted it with one, and shook it gently.

“Yes, I guess I am.” A nod, once again.

“Right, if you don’t mind, why don’t you tell me about it?” He laughed softly, and moved swiftly to sit beside where you just were, patting the bench and grinning. These little meetings occurred mostly every week, with an occasional empty library due to busy schedules.

But, then he stopped coming, you heard not a peep from him during meetings, not once did he lean your way and murmur something about how Steve should get that stick out of his ass. Not once, did he bump into you in the halls, and laugh when you would stutter. Not once, did he compliment you. You were terrified, rightfully so. Had you done something to upset him? Or perhaps, he’d grown tired of the little thing you were having, and decided to toss you aside? It’s not the first time that’s happened, and you cursed yourself for letting yourself get so attached.

Then, the next week. He was completely gone, you almost cried when Natasha told you he and Thor had just left for Asgard for a few months. You nodded, thanking her for informing you, knowing you wouldn’t have heard it from anybody else. For the next few months, they walked on eggshells around you, gently speaking to you during breakfast, and even offering to skip sparring time with you, which you found odd. It’s not like he insulted you before he left, tore your heart out and stomped on it. No, you were just mad, he couldn’t have said anything, perhaps explained himself? Or, no, maybe he should have apologized, because there was no way you would let someone do that to you. Right?

And then, he was back, and he was acting like nothing had ever happened. It infuriated you, it really did. How could he, all this time you had suffered within your thoughts, thinking he hated you. And he waltzes back in to your daily routine, slips in a compliment, and expects you to just giggle, and be okay with it. No.

“We need to talk.” You said, arms crossed as you blocked him from leaving the library.

“Well, by all means, darling, go right ahead.” He smirked, clasping his hands together as he waited. He paused, face falling for a second when he realized you barely even flinched at the pet name, not a single dash of red appeared under your eyes. Lord, he was in some deep shit, huh?

“Want to explain the whole disappearance stunt you pulled? Ignoring me, acting like I’m not even there, and then ditching Earth the second you see the opportunity? What am I, disposable? Well, I’m not, and if you think you can continue this little thing you’ve got going you’re terribly mistaken.” Letting it out was truly a weight lifted off your shoulders, you should have confided in somebody while he was gone and maybe your time alone would have been less stressful.

“Wh- I. What? No, no no no, I promise, you’ll never be disposable, I can assure you, that I’d never toss you assid-“

“But that’s the thing, Loki. You already did! You barely even acknowledged me the week or two before you left, it’s like we didn’t even know each other! I thought you hated me.” The last part really slipped out, you’d rather spend a day with Ultron than ever admit an insecurity to somebody. Your hands covered your face as you shook your head. “Look, just drop it, ok? I’m just gonna go-“

“No. No you aren’t. I won’t let you leave this library thinking I hated you, or could ever hate you in the first place. Darling, you showed me nothing but compassion, and kindness from the day we first met. Gods, I think if I ever showed hatred toward you I might as well let my father punish me for eternity. I can’t stand you hurt.”

“Then why, why did you ignore me like that?”

“I was trying to work up the courage to tell you something. And every time I looked at you, I cowered away. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at you for very long. I was terrified.”

“Scared? Loki, I promise, you can tell me anything, I wouldn’t judge you, not a bit.” You were shocked, you were never one to judge someone, so why was he so frightened?

“And I wouldn’t doubt that about you for a second,” he chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with one hand, and cupping your cheek with the other. “You’re so kind, you are love in its best form. And I love you.”

“Oh! Oh, wow. You love me? ” Maybe your brain was a bit slow to catch up to things, this definitely wasn’t your most graceful moment. But wow, he loved you? Oh man, all this time you were yelling and fussing at him and all he wanted to do was confess. Now you felt bad. He pressed a thumb into the creases on your forehead in an attempt to both ease your worries and bring you back to earth.

“Don’t fret. I understand if you don’t feel the same, really, I can get why. So, if you’ll excuse me...” You pulled him back to you and hugged him, you would not let him leave thinking you didn’t love him. So you said it right back, your hands gripping the back of his shirt, and smiling into his chest.

#don’t beat my ass this is my first time writing a fic in over a year!!! 😁👍 #loki x reader #marvel x reader

[dystovian]

200 Prompts

Not sure if they were deleted completely from this site, but I will be re-uploading all my prompt lists from my old writing blog onto here. 

1. “You said that I’d get to have you all weekend. Why can’t you just tell them you can’t go?” - “Because it’s my job, and it’s important.” - “And I’m not?”

2. “You should sleep.” - “I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.”

3. “I will protect you with my life.”

4. “Please don’t let me fall.” - “Never.”

5. “You’ll catch me, right?” - “Always.”

6. “You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? No. The answer is no.”

7. “I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

8. “You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead.”

9. “Wait, something doesn’t feel right.”

10. “Did you hear that?”

11. “I almost just died and now you’re telling me that I’m a prophet of God? Are you sure you have the right person?”

12. “Stay here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

13. “Look, I know you’re a hardass, but can you play with my hair? It would really help.”

14. “I don’t deserve you.”

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

16. “I’m sorry, but…I don’t remember you.”

17. “I wish I’d never met you.” - “No…you don’t mean that.”

18. “You know I hear you talking, but I still don’t have my coffee.”

19. “Do you want to know the hardest thing about having a soulmate? It’s not the separation in the beginning, not the endless nights lying awake, hoping and praying that someone was made for you. It’s…it’s the love. It’s too strong, and you can’t fight it. I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried…but I’m always going to love you. And I need you to know that.”

20. “You would risk the lives of millions for one person? Why?” - “Because it’s not just one life…it’s yours.”

21. “This might sound selfish, but I don’t care about the world - I only care about you!”

22. “Was I just an easy scapegoat to you? Is that it?”

23. “No! Stay away from me! Stay back!”

24. “You must be mistaken - I don’t know who you are.”

25. “I need to know that you can trust me. Please.”

26. “I have these…powers raging around inside me, and I have no clue how to control them.”

27. “I need your help.”

28. “Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck.”

29. “This is real. You’re real, I’m real. I need you to come back to reality.”

30. “You’re really starting to scare me.”

31. “I’m here for your protection.” - “I don’t need protecting.”

32. “Can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission?”

33. “Keep your hands over your ears, do you hear me? Even when the noises stop. Don’t listen.”

34. “Close your eyes and keep them closed.”

35. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

36. “I don’t want you here.”

37. “Follow me. It’s okay, just hold my hand.”

38. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”

39. “Stop freaking out, I’ll be right back.”

40. “That’s for me to know and for you to…well, you know how the saying goes.”

41. “I know the signs…you can’t hide from me, (Name).”

42. “It’s okay to break.” - “I’m not going to break.”

43. “Do you believe in soulmates?” - “No.” - “Oh, well that’s a shame because I’m it. I’m your soulmate.”

44. “If you’re watching this then that means I’ve been taken.”

45. “You can hold my hand if you want.”

46. “As long as I get to hold your hand.”

47. “I will always choose you.”

48. “I can braid your hair for you…if you’d like.”

49. “Maybe if you actually stop staring at her and talk to her, you might have a chance.”

50. “Are you drunk?” - “Not nearly enough.”

51. “Are you trying to seduce me?” - “Depends. Are you seducible?”

52. “I thought I almost lost you.”

53. “I’ve been calling you. I left voicemails - where were you?”

54. “You and me against the world, remember?”

55. “I’ll come back for you.”

56. “Do you remember this? It’s the music box you got me when we were twelve.”

57. “Never trust a man that can dance.”

58. “We’re not alone.”

59. “There’s someone in the house.”

60. “Pay attention to me.”

61. “Were you drawing me?”

62. “It’s basic human instinct.”

63. “I’d rather be spitting blood.”

64. “You can sleep now. I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.”

65. “I didn’t tell you that I love you because I wanted to hear it back. I told you because I needed you to know.”

66. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

67. “You can’t have her and it’s killing you inside.”

68. “Let’s carve our initials into the tree.”

69. “When you touch me I feel a little less broken.”

70. “You look so much like her…”

71. “Let me help you.”

72. “Come on. Let’s get you into the bath.”

73. “How many did you take? Open your mouth, I need to see.”

74. “You need medicine.”

75. “I need you to keep pressure on the wound, okay?”

76. “You have to promise me that you won’t fall in love with me.”

77. “You smell nice.”

78. “I could hear you screaming. Are you okay?”

79. “Shh. I heard something.”

80. “Stop staring at me like that.”

81. “I can never forget that taste.”

82. “I was made to destroy. Not to fix, but to break.”

83. “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

84. “I see the spark in you. It’s amazing. Whatever you choose to do with it, you’ll be great.”

85. “If you need an emergency extraction just text SOS and I’ll send armed backup.”

86. “Just a few…more…lines…” - “You’ve been at it all night. Take a break.”

87. “Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.”

88. “I know how this goes. First you buy me a drink, then you tell me how pretty I look, and then, at the end of the night, you ask for my number.”

89. “It’s been a while. You’re not coming back, are you?”

90. “He is very dreamy, but he is not the sun. You are.”

91. “I only ever thought there were two kinds of love: The kind you would kill for, and the kind you would die for…but you, my darling, you were the kind of love I would live for.”

92. “Breathe with me, yeah? Come on. Breathe. You got it - there you go.”

93. “Losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt.”

94. “I want you. All of you, and not just half-heartedly, wholly. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care.”

95. “Loving you has never been so easy.”

96. “There are shooting stars in your eyes, and every time I look at you, I make a wish to be able to kiss you one last time.”

97. “I’m drunk and I hate everything. Everything except you.”

98. “Can you just…hold me? Just for tonight.”

99. “You have yourself wrapped in thorns, and then you hate everyone who tries to touch you.”

100. “Put the knife down…I’m not going to hurt you.”

101. “(Name), please…you’re scaring me.”

102. “You don’t have to do this.”

103. “At this point, if a clown invited me into the woods, I would just go.”

104. “You loved her…that’s not a weakness, that’s a virtue.”

105. “Love is never kind; love is confusion and pain and abandonment. It’s every single nightmare your mind has been plagued by. And, yes, it can unmake you in ways you never thought were possible, but love - it will remind you what it’s like to be human.”

106. “I’m right here. I’ve been here all along, but you still can’t see me.”

107. “The way he watches you…like he’s ready to take a bullet for you.” - “Is that a bad thing?”

108. “And I love, I love, I love you.”

109. “I don’t think I ever want to be parted from you. I don’t think my heart could take it.”

110. “You’re such a needy baby.”

111. “You have bewitched me; body and soul.”

112. “I worship you.”

113. “I am begging on my knees. Please, don’t do this.”

114. “I don’t think you know how to love.”

115. “It’s torture, being human. Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off. Turn it all off.”

116. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world all by yourself, you know?”

117. “I’m all yours.” - “Really?”

118. “I know I can be pretty dense, but you’re giving me some…pretty big signals here, and I don’t know if I’m reading them right but…I hope I’m somewhere along the right track.”

119. “Just one moment…” - “What are you doing?” - “Well, I suppose I’m going to kiss you. I hope that’s alright.”

120. “You’re a woman, that alone makes you magic.”

121. “What if we’re the only ones left?”

122. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said.”

123. “You have my word. You have all my words.”

124. “Be nice.” - “Always.”

125. “(Name)?” - “Yeah?” - “I’m gonna kiss you now.” - “Okay.”

126. “Just stay. We can figure everything else out later. Right now, just stay.”

127. “My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep.”

128. “We’re a mess, you and I.”

129. “Stop looking at me with pity in your eyes. Stop it. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

130. “It won’t be easy, you know…trying to love me.”

131. “You took advantage of me when all I did was help you.”

132. “What good will come from killing them? Revenge and vengeance are very different things, you need to understand that.”

133. “Take my gun, I don’t want to hurt you.” - “You won’t hurt me.” - “Please. Just take it.”

134. “Bah-Humbug.”

135. “You want to run away? On the night of our wedding?”

136. “You’re upset.” - “I’m not.” - “I know that face. That’s your I’m-upset-with-you face. And your eyebrows - they get really expressive when you’re mad.”

137. “Truth is, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

138. “Do you love me? If you do, then you need to do this for me.”

139. “Stop staring.” - “I’m not.” - “Oh, sure you aren’t.”

140. “I have a hole…in my side.” - “I’m sorry, what?” - “I was shot.”

141. “I didn’t want you to panic and now you’re panicking which is making me panic and-”

142. “You should talk to her.” - “And have her hear me? No thank you.”

143. “You really don’t know how to talk to women, do you?”

144. “You already know how this one will end.”

145. “I trust you completely.”

146. “I prefer the view from up there.”

147. “I’m not sure how many coffees it takes to be happy, but so far, it’s not twelve.”

148. “I’m so proud of you.”

149. “Away you three inch fool.”

150. “You will be the end of me.”

151. “I will give you the sun.”

152. “You are safe. I won’t let them hurt you.”

153. “I want you to go upstairs and lock the door, okay? Don’t come out until I tell you to.”

154. “I’m a fallen angel.”

155. “I just fell out of an airplane without a parachute and I have no idea how I survived.”

156. “He stares at you every time you look away.”

157. “Shut the hell your mouth.”

158. “Well butter my buns and call me betty crocker.”

159. “Meeting you was the best coincidence life ever gave me.”

160. “You make my heart happy.”

161. “Tell me a lie.” - “I love you.”

162. “They told me you died. And I screamed. I screamed until my lungs hurt too much to continue.”

163. “I’m not sure what peace is supposed to feel like, but I think it may feel a lot like you.”

164. “To keep you safe, I would do anything.”

165. “I deserved a better goodbye.”

166. “I’ll take care of you.” - “It’s rotten work.” - “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

167. “You’ve suffered through enough.”

168. “Don’t get too close to that one, she’ll singe your fingertips and have you on your knees.”

169. “He was my almost.”

170. “Go ahead. Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.”

171. “Did you have another blackout?”

172. “I think we’d make this a fair fight if we each had a gun. Don’t you agree, boys?”

173. “You think you gave me some sort of gift? You took a messed up girl and turned her into a broken woman.”

174. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

175. “Star gazing. That’s your thing? Seriously?”

176. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

177. “You’re a coward, (Name)! You hide away this entirely different part to yourself all because you’re afraid that someone might get close to you! You’re afraid that someone might just care about you more than you think you deserve. That - that isn’t fair.”

178. “Don’t do it. If you attack now, then I won’t be able to keep you safe.”

179. “I can’t believe you’re alive!”

180. “Heaven just couldn’t wait for you…”

181. “Higher, further, faster, baby.”

182. “It’s my fault.”

183. “You got a minute to live, fill it with words.”

184. “We’ll lose.” - “Then we’ll do that together too.”

185. “I don’t want to hurt you.” - “I’d like to see you try.”

186. “I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.”

187. “I know I kissed you before, but I didn’t do it right. Can I try again?”

188. “I would die before I let anything happen to you.”

189. “You have my heart. I don’t think I could get it back even if I wanted to.”

190. “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.”

191. “You are love in its best form.”

192. “I don’t regret every second with you, I treasure them”

193. “My universe is you.”

194. “Here, let me hold that for you.”

195. “I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack so…when I kissed you…you held your breath.”

196. “Let. Her. Go.”

197. “Did you just call me your boyfriend/girlfriend?”

198. “We were meant for each other.”

199. “Why not be angry? Anger is better than tears, better than grief, better than the guilt.”

200. “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.”

[dystovian]

should i write for marvel😳 i have an idea for a loki or bucky/reader but idk

[dystovian]

AS OF JANUARY 3RD, 2021, DUSTIN HIGGS WILL BE EXECUTED BY THE TRUMP ADMINISTRATION IN 12 DAYS FOR A MURDER HE DID NOT COMMIT.

>>>> https://bit.ly/2Lv9Knr/ <<<<

>>>> @SaveDustinHiggs <<<<

SOURCE TWEET

[dystovian]

JUSTICE FOR CASEY GOODSON

On December 4th, 2020, Casey Christian Goodson Jr. (23 years old) was shot three times in the back and murdered by a Sheriff’s Deputy as he was entering his home in Columbus, Ohio. Goodson’s family stated that he was returning home from a dentist appointment, holding a Subway sandwich, his face mask, and his keys, when he was shot.

Two days later, the Columbus Police Department made a statement alleging that James Meade, the deputy responsible for Goodson’s death, saw a man believed to be Goodson with a gun while driving. Meade then approached Goodson after he exited his car and walked home, where he was shot.

Hours after the shooting, the US Marshal for the Southern District of Ohio, Peter Tobin, confirmed that Goodson was not the fugitive they were searching for. However, Tobin also added that he believed that the shooting was justified, claiming that Goodson was shot after he refused to drop his “weapon.”

Yet another Black man murdered by the police.

DEMAND JUSTICE.

art credit: @alex.albadree on instagram

graphics credit: @worldawarenessassociation on instagram

[dystovian]

who in dream smp

pls it’s for science