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peachesofteal · 2 months

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Simple Math / Part Eleven

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Graphic depiction of domestic violence. This fic contains mature themes. Mention of pregnancy. Nurse!reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Bun is in pain, goes to a doctor. Dissociation. Lots of despair, fear, anxiety. The 141 reunites. Nightmares. Comfort. Tenderness. Angst. Welcome home.

“Knock knock.”

“Bunny.” Johnny murmurs, lifting an arm, urging you close, a moon to a tide.

“Hi.” You bend, moving into the hug, pressing your face to his neck for a quick second before straightening.

“I miss ye.” You survey him, glancing at the monitor, the brace on his leg and hip, the disconnected fluid line. He’s doing well. You’re so relieved to see it with your own eyes, ribs rattling with a long exhale. Satisfied, you smile, tension bleeding from your spine.

“Simon says you’re terrorizing your night nurse.”

“Am not. She’s jus’ not gentle, or quiet. Wakes me up.”

“That’s her job.” He scoffs, waving you off. You settle in the chair at his side, and he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, dotting kisses across your knuckles. His affection is freeing, sweet and easy, a warm breeze on a spring day. It overflows your heart with warmth until you think it might spill over, and you go with it, following his lead, even though your better judgement, the girl in the mirror, wails.

“Ye look good. Better. Swellin’ gone down?” He cradles your chin, turning your face from left to right, inspecting with a crystal-clear sapphire gleam.

“Yeah, my shoulder is still sore but… yeah. I feel better.”

“’m glad. Simon keepin’ ye off yer feet all day then?”

“Oh my god.” You laugh. “He keeps telling me to lay down. Or asking if I want to take a nap.” Johnny chuckles.

“Sounds right. He’s a bit o’ a mother hen, that one. He cares though, we both do.”

“I know.” You squeeze his hand. “And I missed you too.”

“He said ye an’ him had a nice chat the other night?” Your cheeks burn. Oh god. Did he… “I’m a wee bit jealous.” He complains, turning his nose up and away in a mock pout, and you roll your eyes.

You laid in bed all night and thought about these moments. Thought about Simon’s mouth on yours, his hand on your ass, squeezing and stroking. You thought about how he tasted, how he smelled, the way he looked at you, like you were a part of their world, a piece of them.

And you thought about Johnny. Johnny alone here, Johnny trapped in the hospital, healing, unable to leave or even get out of bed. How anxious he must be, being separated from his family, how frustrating it is to spend so long trying to get better.

You wanted to give him something. Wanted to make him feel better, see him smile.

Here goes nothing.

Leaning, standing, you dip into his orbit, lightly bumping your noses together. It takes no time until his good hand is around the back of your neck, crashing your mouth into his, and he breathes you in, holding you steady, tongue and teeth and lips swirling together in a ubiquitous, overwhelming haze. He tastes like summer rain, the feeling in the air before a giant storm, electric and blazing, brilliant glow transferring between the two of you, lightning striking a mountaintop. He nips your bottom lip, heat flooding your stomach, and you pull away slowly, his eyes jeweled and shimmering, brilliantly blue.

“Bunny,” You try to swallow a quiet giggle and fail. “I’ll have to tell ye I’m jealous more often.”

“Don’t take advantage.” You playfully scold.

“Me? Take advantage?” He pretends to be outraged, voice piquing higher, and you laugh again. “How can I take advantage when ‘m the one stuck here in this bed while ye two are at home, playin’ house, takin’ couch naps and gettin’ butt rubs. No one cares about Johnny, no-“

“Shhh.” You press your lips to his, silencing him, remaining in the kiss that’s long and soft and saccharine. He sneaks his tongue back between your teeth, mischievous and wild, every bit the man you’re drawn to, an attraction you can’t fight.

“Well.” Simon clears his throat from the doorway, brows raised, mask snug. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You don’t know why, but you fly backwards, nearly stumbling, cheeks on fire. You feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and that feeling, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, is all too reminiscent.

It frightens you.

“Whoa, hey.” Johnny tries to snag a finger around your wrist, but you step out of the way.

“It’s alright.” Simon moves inside fully, clicking the door shut behind him. “You’re not in trouble. Nothing is wrong, I was just kidding. That’s my fault.” You shake your head.

He’s not mad. Johnny is fine. Everything is fine.

You’re overreacting. You’re making a mess of this.

You shouldn’t even be doing this in the first place. What’re you doing? Who are you kidding?

“I’m s-sorry.” You stammer, hands wringing together anxiously.

“Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry about.” Johnny protests, still trying to reach for you.

Get it together. You have to get it together.

You close your eyes.

Deep breath. In and out. You can do it. Just breathe.

It works. You’re steadier, and you meet their watchful gazes as your eyes open.

“You okay?” Simon murmurs, moving very slowly to the other side of the bed where you’re standing, like he’s approaching a spooked, scared, wild animal.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just… had a moment. I’m fine.” Not entirely true, but that’s alright. You feel a little unsteady, a little unnerved, and Johnny frowns.

“Ye should sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bunny, please. For me?” He bats his eyelashes, and you want to groan.

But you lower yourself in the chair all the same.

Quiet falls over the room. It’s awkward and stiff, and you curse yourself for ruining the moment.

“Hey.” Simon soothes, reading your mind. “Hey, you’re alright. Everything is fine.” You nod, unsettled. He squeezes your good shoulder and dips past you, leaning to press a gentle kiss to Johnny’s brow, before dotting his nose and pushing their lips together. Their kiss is long, languid touch melting away to expose their connection, trust and love on full display. Delicate and rare, their affection makes your heart flutter, pulchritudinous whispers given to one another as Simon holds Johnny’s hand, stroking a familiar pattern into his skin, something similar to the way he touches you. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Wish they’d let me out of this bloody bed.” Johnny grumbles. You clear your throat.

“They’re waiting on your wrist. Once your wrist can support your weight on crutches, then you’ll be able to start PT and be released.”

“Ach. I know.” He’s frustrated, it’s clear. You know it’s not easy, being here, being separated, stuck in a hospital.

“It won’t be too long.” You try to reassure him, and he nods, still a little forlorn. “Here,” you stand with a burst of confidence, knocking his arm with the back of your hand as a direction, “scooch over.”

His eyes light. Simon laughs.

You fold yourself onto the edge of the bed, turned on your side, curled along where he’s the least banged up, careful of the sensitive graft lurking beneath his hospital gown.

“There. That better?” His good arm wraps around you carefully, settling on your ribs, a thumb tracing the wrinkle of your shirt.

“Aye, much better.” Your knees are bent, and cool air ghosts over your lower back, where your shirt has ridden up and exposed your skin. You shiver.

“Cold?” Simon murmurs, and you nod. He’s close, hovering, pulling a blanket up from the end of the bed to cover both you and Johnny. He tucks it around the two of you carefully and leans forward, pulling his mask down again to brush his lips across Johnny’s brow.

You watch in a daze. They don’t speak, but there’s something happening between them, something being said in their eyes as Simon holds his face briefly, and Johnny nods.

They both look to you, your bottom lip caught between teeth.

“Want one too?” Simon hums, cupping the back of your head. “Here.” He kisses you, lingering in it, heat of his naked mouth still a shock to your system.

Johnny is beaming, and cuddles you as close as possible, cheek resting atop your forehead.

They make you dizzy. All of it feels like some kind of dream, a world impossible, a fantasy suddenly turned real life. You’re on the verge of spinning out of control inside it, losing yourself.

It doesn’t help that everything you’ve done over these last few years, this identity, this life, the work that went into hiding and planning and saving and scraping, trying to stay unseen and unnoticed-

Was all for nothing.

“Bunny?” Johnny whispers, bringing you back to them. Simon is settled in the recliner, the same one from the ICU room, but his arm is stretched past your head, fingers playing idly in Johnny’s very long mohawk.

“Sorry. I’m here.”

“Where did ye go?” He tightens his hold, and you snuggle in closer, hiding away from everything bearing down on you, the pain and the panic and the doubt. You hide your face from it, refuse to acknowledge it, desperately trying to stay in this moment, hoping to just be… be here with them. In the sun.

“Nowhere.”

A day passes. Then another, and another, and another. Your face nearly looks normal, puffiness and swelling practically gone, and your neck aches less and less with each passing day.

Your shoulder, on the other hand, is a problem.

It never stops hurting. You struggle to get your arm through your shirts, can barely lift it, can't pick anything up, and it’s so sore, tender, and stiff, like it’s been dislocated or worse, broken. You’re worried, worried about going back to work without a full range of motion, worried about being in pain.

Worried about being even more permanently damaged than you already are.

Just another tally mark. Just another thing you must live with now, a permanent remnant of him, a forever reminder of just how foolish you really are.

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re damaged.

The pain breaks you down. It prevents you from sleeping, keeps you twisting and turning through a roil of dark dreams. It depresses you, sinks its teeth into your flesh and gnaws on the pieces touched by the sun, the parts of your heart still beating, somehow.

It reminds you of everything you’re desperate to forget.

It all comes crashing down one morning. The despair. The helpless feeling brewing in your stomach. The loneliness. It keeps you there, in bed, in agony, past breakfast.

It keeps you there, until you hear the creak of the stairs, a firm knock.

“I’m coming in.” Simon advises, trying the door, cracking it enough to stick his head through.

You’re crumpled in the middle of the mattress, pillows strewn about from trying to find a comfortable position, tears already dried. Your shoulder hurts so bad, and you don’t know why, don’t know why it’s not getting better, not healing.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He sits at your side, hand resting on your hip, inspecting the worry lines, the frown tugging at your lips. “What’s going on?” Guilt swamps you.

“It’s nothing, my shoulder just kept me up, so I’m a little tired. That’s all.” You paste on your work smile, forced and believable, but he only shakes his head.

“Don’t do that.” He thumbs your brow. “I think you should see a doctor.”

“N-no.” You can’t. He doesn’t understand. They’ll want to take x-rays. X-rays lead to questions.

He never takes you at face value. Always pushing. Always digging, looking you over. “Why not?”

“It’s… it’s not necessary. I’m fine, it’s probably just a deep bruise.”

“You’d be experiencing less pain if that was the case.” You raise an eyebrow. He shrugs. “I know a little bit. We all have basic medic training, and I’ve been reading up, for when Johnny gets home.” He pats your hip. “Let’s make you an appointment.” You shake your head.

“No!” It’s too sharp, too insistent, and he freezes. You wince. “I’m sorry. It’s just-“

“You can’t go to a doctor.” He finishes, like he knows. “Tell me why, sweetheart.” You take a shaky breath.

You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Sunlight taps against the iron that’s encrusted around your heart. It knocks, wanting to be let in. It searches for weakness, places of opportunity, slivers of space where it can find its way.

Your mouth starts moving before you give it permission, like it knows this is where you’re headed, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how deeply the survivor’s logic is ingrained in your brain.

“It… it’s not safe.”

“It creates a trail.” He surmises, and you nod. For a wild moment, you wonder if he’s a plant. If they’re a trap, designed to get you to lower your guard, fabricated to encourage you to trust, to love, just so the jaws of Philip’s cruelty can close around you at the most opportune moment.

They wouldn’t. They’re not. You’re being ridiculous. You’re paranoid.

“We’ll make it under my name. Our primary is service member focused, and very discreet. You’ll be safe.” He makes it hard to argue, even though you want to. You should.

“I- I don’t know.”

“I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.” He rebukes, and then smiles softly, eyes lighting up. “Besides, I’m going to need your help. Johnny’s coming home on Friday.”

“He is?” You push upward. “Really?”

“Really.” He’s beaming, radiant sunshine spilling from his lips, and it makes you emotional, seeing him so happy, so weightless. “He passed a strength test on his wrist this morning. He needs a few days of PT in hospital, and then he can do it outpatient. His care team has signed off, and he’s ready.”

“Oh my god, that’s great!”

“It is. But I want both of you on the mend, not just one. Please.” It doesn’t take much more for you to concede, unable to find an excuse or a good enough reason, one he’s not able to combat.

“Alright, I guess.”

“Simon. Good to see you.” The doctor extends his hand and Simon shakes it readily, keeping his body positioned between you and the physician, one hand still on your knee.

He’s had a hand on you for the last half hour. You’ve been rattling on the exam table, shifting and fretful, disquieted energy spilling forth since he coaxed you into the car this morning.

“Dr. Fitch.”

“This is my patient?” He motions to you, and Simon stands to the side, concentrating, eyes focused above the mask. You give your name, and the provider repeats it with a warm smile.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitch.” You raise your good arm to shake his hand, and he pulls the rolling stool underneath him, taking a seat opposite Simon at your knee.

A warm palm flexes at your lower back. It’s soothing, comforting.

I’m here, it says. You’re safe.

“Simon says you’ve been having some shoulder pain?”

“Yeah, I had… I had an injury. Thought there was some soft tissue damage, maybe some minor bruising, but the pain is too persistent.”

“Mind if I take a look?” He points to the side you’re clearly favoring.

“Sure.” It’s not comfortable, to have another man’s hands on you outside of your job. There’s no trust there, no familiarity like there is with Simon and Johnny, and your body knows it, practically vibrating as he walks his fingers up your scapula. Simon stays close, still with a hand at your back, watching intently.

Dr Fitch holds your elbow, and slowly lifts your arm until you’re telling him to stop, pins and needles radiating through your shoulder and up your neck.

“I think we need an x-ray so we can really see what’s going on.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palm.

Fuck.

“I… I think I just need a sling, or an immobilizer for a few weeks. Give it some time to heal.” You try to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I can’t be sure of any of that, without an x-ray.” Oh god. You think you might throw up.

He’s right, though. You know he’s right. You know no good provider in their right mind would sign off on a treatment plan without knowing the extent of an injury. He’s not going to let you dictate what you need.

“Bun.” Simon murmurs, and you blow out a rough breath.

“Okay, fine.”

Dr. Fitch is grim when he reappears almost an hour later, throwing the films up for both you and Simon to see.

You spot what’s soured him immediately, and there’s a sharp intake of breath behind you, the tell-tale sign of Simon noticing it too.

“This side of your body has seen a lot of trauma.” The doctor says gently. He’s not unkind, but still clinical. The kind of provider you’d like you work with, you think. “These old injuries, your clavicle, acromion, even this break in your ulna, make your scapula a very delicate part of your body. I think an MRI would show a fair amount of cartilage damage in these areas.” He motions around your joint, and you close your eyes.

You can’t do this.

If Dr. Fitch sees your unease or panic, he pushes past it. “You have a rotator cuff tear. The good news is, it’s not surgical. I recommend physical therapy for injuries like these, along with activity modification and lots of rest. I want to do a corticosteroid injection for your pain as well. Today, if you’d like. You’ll need to rest your arm for twenty-four hours afterwards, make sure you’re not lifting anything or moving it…” He continues, but you lose track, lose focus, staring at the vinyl tile, weird grey and pink and green patterns all worked together to make some of the ugliest floor you’ve ever seen.

You zone out. Lose yourself. The films mock you, their ugly, horrific images hanging you out to dry, showcasing the truth, the reminders you’ll never be able to escape.

The pieces of you, changed permanently.

It’s hard to look at. Hard to think of.

You’d rather be considering survival. Counting your cash and researching new places to live. New communities to disappear inside, a new life to assume.

It’s easier to run.

You can’t look at Simon. Can't bear the shame. Can't believe he's seeing this, your nightmares on display.

You keep your eyes fixed on the wall.

The girl in the mirror is falling apart. She despises being confronted with your failings, your weakness, the results of your stupidity.

It’s far less common now, these mistakes. These slip ups.

But before… before… they indulged Philip in a beautiful game of cat and mouse. You made it fun, made it exciting. A wolf with his prey. Playing with his food before he eats. Before he strings it up and breaks its collarbone because he likes to hear it scream.

Simon is talking to the provider, asking questions, receiving answers. You can barely hear him. You’re underwater.

The only thing that tethers you to the earth is the hand on your back, the warm, gentle, broad, grounding pressure.

There’s more conversation, and then Dr. Fitch is vacating the room.

Is it time to go?

You try to stand on autopilot, but Simon holds you steady.

“We’re going to do the steroid, for your pain.” He drifts into your line of sight, pulling the mask down. “Bunny, look at me.”

When you can’t, he follows your gaze.

The films come off the wall within the next second, ripped down by the long reach of his arm.

Gone.

“I have to go.” You whisper.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to get this injection, and then I’m going to take you home and put you to bed.”

He doesn’t understand your meaning.

Or maybe he does.

Home. The word rings in your ears like a punch. It’s like you’ve been hit with it, burned with it.

Home.

He’s not forceful, but you still feel the pressure, the insistence. You expect to rail against him. To cower.

Instead, you slip inside it. Allow him to tell you what to do, to make the decision. You fall easily into him, and he holds your hand through it all, while the injection site is swabbed, when the needle goes in. He holds your hand out to the car, holds your hand as he buckles you in. He holds your hand as he tucks you into a bed larger and softer than the one you've been sleeping in. It smells like him and Johnny, soft sheets and pillows piled around you like a wall, false sense of security building every time you twitch, testing where is he is, if he’s left yet.

The last thing you feel before you drift off to sleep is your hand, still in his.

You don't know how long you sleep. You sail in the darkness, navigating turbulent seas, waking every now and then, sometimes alone... sometimes not.

The baby monitor blinks pale green, little circle fuzzy on the edge of your vision, appearing and disappearing throughout the day.

Sometimes the bed is warm. Sometimes it's not.

When it is, you seek him out on instinct, trying to crawl inside his ribs, frantic with your effort to hide, to run. He holds you through it, rocks you gently, tells you you're safe, says you don't have to be afraid anymore, he's here now. He'll take care of you.

There's a rope around your ankle, tied too tight, tethered to the ocean floor. It drags you down, rips you away from him, fills your lungs and silences you.

You didn't make it.

All you can see behind closed lids is those films. All you can feel is the phantom ache in your limbs, the remnants of a shadow, still living and breathing inside of you.

The girl in the mirror is silent. Nothing to say for once in her life, she weeps like her chest is being carved open, sobs and screams pouring out in a flood.

I know you'll be here when I get back, won't you?

The house is vibrant today.

Lou has been here, stocking the fridge, precooking some meals, and her husband is helping Simon rearrange the living room, moving pieces of the couch to be more accessible, laughing back and forth quietly. Occasionally, he stops into the kitchen where you’re seated next to Pen in her highchair, checking in, but never encroaching.

He doesn’t get too close, right now. You’re still underwater somewhere, lost in a current. You’re here, but not really, silently drifting like a ghost, watching and waiting for something or someone to shake you out of it.

Simon hasn’t yet, but he’s watching. Always.

He’s intentionally careful, loud. Announcing himself everywhere he goes in the house, telling you everything he’s doing.

You didn’t understand why at first. Didn’t realize you hadn’t spoken in eight hours, and then ten, then twelve.

Trapped in a tomb of yourself, locked away with the girl in the mirror.

Guilt burns like a wildfire.

This should be a happy time. A wonderful time.

But all you’re doing is making a mess of their life.

Lou, thankfully, doesn’t push you either. She’s content to let you sit there, next to Pen. She keeps an eye out, glancing over at you occasionally, but your placating smiles seem to satisfy her.

Simon steps in front of the counter, ducking his head down to catch your eyes. “I’m going to pick Johnny up.” Somewhere, in the pits of hell, excitement blooms. Happiness tries to sprout. “Do you want to come?” Definitely not. They’ll certainly clap him out, and there’s no way you can be there for that.

“No, I’m… okay.”

“Okay. Penny is coming with me, but John and Lou are staying here. Kyle is coming by. If Johnny’s feeling up to it, I’m hoping to do dinner all together.” Acid is tossed around, tempestuous in your stomach. Lou smiles around his side.

“Want to watch something while we wait?”

“Sure.” She disappears down the hall, saying something to John, and Simon slowly pulls Pen from her chair, kissing her cheek and nose before cradling her to his chest. She’s not a small baby, but in his hold, she’s tiny, soft and delicate, content in her dad’s arms, still a little sleepy from her afternoon nap.

“We’ll be back soon.” He whispers, turning to go.

Your hand whips forward instinctively, out of control.

It latches onto his.

“Simon. I’m… I’m sorry.” You’re sorry you’re ruining everything. You’re sorry you’re fucked up beyond belief, you’re sorry he had to see all that in the doctor’s office, you’re sorry, you’re sorry, you’re sorry.

He squeezes. “Shhh, hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He shifts, still holding Penny, but stooping down to crouch at your knees, his own popping with effort. “It’s okay, if you have to go somewhere else for a little while up there, as long as you're not lost in it.” He motions to your head. “Nothing has changed. We’re still right here, everything is alright. Huh, Penny girl?” He bounces her, and she shrieks out a giggle, reaching for his face. He kisses her hands like he’s trying to eat them, rumble in his voice making her squeal, and he catches your faint smile. “There she is.” He kisses your forehead. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hear Johnny before you see him.

There’s a scrape of crutches, his voice animated, talking to his baby, Penny giggling wildly outside on the walk. Lou and John exchange a comfortable smile, and she manages to get the door open before Simon can get his key in the lock.

“Welcome home!” She exclaims, and Penny squeaks, clapping excitedly. She’s wriggly, wanting to get down immediately upon crossing the threshold, but Simon holds her firm, turned around so Lou can snap their picture.

“Ach, Price, can ye do somethin’-“ Johnny laments, but the captain only laughs and looks on.

“Hey! Come on, you’ll want this, later. I promise. Look over here.” They’re picture perfect, Penny cradled between them, Johnny’s hair moved out of his face, his posture a little slouched because of his hip and leg. His head rests on Simon’s shoulder, an arm stretched across his middle, right under Penny, who glows from her perch, the center of attention.

An ache unfurls in the middle of your chest, a sore spot, growing, spreading through your body.

They’re so lovely, it hurts. This moment is beautiful, a homecoming, a story of survival and perseverance. Johnny’s strength and determination. Doing something you know a lot of people initially doubted.

The dark spot of pain passes, fleeting.

Johnny’s eyes find yours. “Ye goin’ make me hobble all the way over there?” He teases, and you shake your head.

The two of you can only give half hugs, but you make it work, holding onto him, fingers fisted in the back of his shirt.

“Welcome home.” You whisper in his ear, and he pulls away, notching his forehead against yours. His eyes glitter, heavy, trembling breath filtering through his nose, and he kisses you slowly, so painfully slowly it’s like you’re the only one in the entire house, in the whole world.

“You too, bunny.”

Dinner is lively. Kyle arrives shortly before it’s time to sit down, greetings and warm wishes passed around as everyone gets settled, Penny positioned in highchair between the guys with mashed potatoes and peas already scooped onto her tray. Johnny’s on your left, with Lou on your right, and Simon sits at the head of the table, across from who you realize now, is his old, or kind of still, boss.

He looks perfect there, half turned towards Pen and Johnny, radiantly smiling at his partner and daughter, trying again and again to catch your eye. Johnny's knee stays steady against yours, fingertips occasionally brushing your thigh, and the two of them try to draw you in, pull you towards them, over and over.

Conversation flows easily. They’re all talking, laughing, swapping stories, poking at one another. Kyle tells you about a time he fell out of a helicopter, and they all tease Johnny about nearly dying this time, or a different time, you can’t be too sure.

“Ye jus’ wish ye had the natural ability I do.” He sniffs, and Kyle chortles, struggling to swallow his food.

“I’d probably be dead, mate.”

“’Cause ye cannae handle it!” He retorts, and Simon laughs, causing Penny to giggle too, and then the entire table erupts in it, attention redirected, cooing at the adorable girl with mashed potatoes smeared on her face. Johnny and Simon fuss over her, a perfect family in unison.

There’s a whining, buzzing noise in the back of your head. It’s an off-key tenor, annoying and coarse, like the snag of rough skin texture against a soft sweater.

What are you doing here?

The world, this room, these people, spin and spiral around you. Talking, laughing, loving. Making connections with each other, feeling the warmth of love and friendship, of happiness.

The buzzing gets louder.

You’re vaguely in it now, still seated but not here, not anywhere. You’re drifting, falling away, slipping behind walls and layers, hiding.

The girl in the mirror approves.

What makes you think you have any right to be here? What makes you think you could ever possibly belong here? With them? With their friends? Their family?

You’re an intruder.

You’re risking their safety. You’re making a mistake.

Lou boasts a sharp laugh, and you nearly flinch.

You don’t belong here. You’re supposed to be alone. It was supposed to be okay, to be alone.

You’re selfish.

Simon reaches for Johnny’s hand, stretching across Penny’s spot, eyes heavy with love. There’s so much in his expression alone, dedication, devotion, borderline obsession bleeding through, and he holds Johnny like he’s holding his lifeline.

You’ll never be loved like that, known like that, cherished and protected… like that.

And why should you be?

You’re standing before you announce it, trying to hold yourself together. Both guys look to you, Simon’s expression changing from amusement and love to worry and concern, while Johnny mirrors it, and tries to grab your hand.

“Ye alright?”

“Bun?”

“I’m fine, just… uh. My stomach.” You lie, motioning away from the table, like it makes any sense. You excuse yourself quickly, apologizing, and practically run up the stairs.

The guest bathroom door locks, and you slide down against the tub, slumping over to rest your cheek on cold tile. “Fuck.” You whisper, rubbing at your cheeks. What is wrong with you?

You lay there long enough that your shoulder starts to hurt. Everything aches, your heart too, and wipe your cheeks over and over, trying to regain control of a sinking ship.

God, you really, really hope they aren’t mad you bailed.

The bed is your only option, your only salvation, and you sink into without fuss, burying yourself beneath a pile of blankets, hiding yourself away from the world.

At least when you sleep, you can’t think.

At least when you sleep, you can’t feel.

“Philip, please.”

“You made a fucking fool of me tonight.” He grips your upper arm so tight it feels like he’s cutting into your flesh, branding you, burning you down to the bone.

“No, I- I wasn’t trying to, I swear.”

“I think you were, spitfire. I think you wanted to see me sweat, didn’t you? Wanted to play a little game, huh?”

“No!” you’re crying, chest heaving with giant sobs, and his fist tightens in your hair, dragging you down to the ground. “No, Philip, stop. Stop!”

“Shut up.” You’re crawling on your knees, trying to keep pace, trying to stay in stride with him as he tugs, practically pulling you down the hallway to the bedroom.

Once he gets there, he jerks you upwards.

The hardwood floor is the next thing you see as your face crashes into it.

“S-stop.” You’re barely audible, buried in sobs. He mocks you.

“Stoooop, babe. Stop please.” Your arms cover your head, trying to protect your delicate bones there, your skull, your nose, your cheeks.

His foot rears back.

The world goes cold.

“NO!” you jerk your knees up to your chest, rolling away. “No! I’m pregnant!”

You think he’ll be happy. You think he’ll be pleased.

Instead, it’s raw, concentrated fury you see lining his face, lightning and thunder gathering in his eyes.

“You’re what?”

You come to trembling, coated in a cold sweat.

It’s okay. He’s not here. He’s not. You’re safe.

You clasp a hand over your mouth to ward off the volume of the sob, nausea rising until you’re almost gagging.

It’s okay.

You can do this. Get it together.

Time ticks away, but the agony of your memory, your nightmare, doesn’t fade. It settles in your bones like a sickness, infecting your mind and heart, keeping you from closing your eyes.

You can’t go back there. Not in real life. Not in your dreams. Not ever.

You would die before that happened.

Johnny and Simon sleep down the hall. You wonder if they’re wrapped up together, if Johnny is comfortable, if their room is cozy and homey, bed heavenly and full of love.

You could…

No.

The clock on your phone reads three in the morning. You feel like you haven’t slept at all, but every time you try to close your eyes, dread spreads, tenebrous and sticky, clinging to every synapse in your logical brain.

You eye the door.

You could…

Should you? Would they be mad? Would they welcome you? Would they even answer?

You don’t know how you convince yourself to do it, to drag your weak will down the hall and knock on their door, but you do. You’re a child the whole way, padding up to a parent’s room in the middle of the night, looking for salvation and sanctuary, desperate for comfort.

It takes almost no time after your timid little rap for the door to swing wide, Simon standing behind it, little lamp flicked on where Johnny is half sitting up, mostly still asleep, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi.” You whisper, distracted by Simon’s naked chest. He’s wearing sweatpants, but they’re slung low on his hips, soft tummy with wispy light brown hair peeking out above the drawstring. You think you’re staring, and you force a blink, trying to appear normal.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, I just… I had a nightmare and…I… I can’t…” the rest doesn’t come out, laying heavy on your tongue, trying to organize itself so it doesn’t seem so intrusive, or weak.

He doesn’t make you feel bad. Or guilty. He doesn’t even ask, he just steps aside, motioning to bed, clicking the door shut behind him.

“Take the middle.” He whispers, and you crawl across the expanse, timidly smiling at Johnny, who’s still yawning. He’s got his bad leg and hip set up on a bunch of pillows, and the spot next to him is still warm.

“Hey pretty girl.”

“Hi.” He pats the empty space, shoving the blankets down to the best of his ability to let you get underneath them.

“Bad dream?” He drawls, slow and sleepy.

“Yeah.”

“C’mere.” He tries to tug you closer, but Simon scolds him softly.

“Johnny, easy. Your graft.” He turns, sliding, encouraging you to settle on your side, with him at your back. “There we go. That’s better, hm?” It is better. So much better. Warm and safe. Blocked in on either side by them, your hand resting on Johnny’s sternum, grounding yourself with the rise and fall of his breathing, Simon nestling you into his chest, heavy arm slung across your ribs to hold Johnny’s hand.

It's so nice, tucked between them like you belong there, things start to spiral a little bit, doubt and worry fueling a cycle of second guessing. You shift restlessly, and Simon rubs your hip, soothing whatever he senses amiss back to neutral, lips humming just above your ear. “Close your eyes, little bunny. We’re here. You’re safe.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader

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riaki · 4 months

Text

guys pls consider… lifeguard!gojo bit inspired by a post i saw a long time ago from @/shotorus, thank u sel + inez !

lifeguard!gojo, who signs you in for a pool session and gives you the wrong time-slot wristband because he’s too busy gawking at you with hearts in his blue eyes to notice he registered you to swim for 12pm-2pm. when, in reality, it’s 4pm in the afternoon and the hot sun is slowly sinking in the sky.

lifeguard!gojo, who mistakes your polite attempts to correct him as signs of disinterest; he sees things through romance-tinted glasses. of course he can't keep a wounded pride, and so he makes it his saturday afternoon goal to win your heart. after all, who in their right mind would reject him in all his dashing chlorine scented glory?

lifeguard!gojo, who reintroduces himself all suave and cool and he thinks it's working mid-hair slick-back— until he gets smacked in the face by a stray rubber ball, and his sunglasses go flying. it leaves a red spot of hashmarks on his nose, like the ball was a cookie cutter and he was the dough. but he doesn't mind, because he got to hear your pretty laugh as you pick up his shades and hand them back to him, albeit at his own expense. you even say a cute thing or two about the chipped popsicle sticker on the frame.

lifeguard!gojo, who's unreasonably (and immaturely) upset over the fact he can't seductively rub sunscreen into your back because you already have beforehand. but he's not complaining; it smells good when he's forced a little closer to you to avoid a rampaging train of kids running across the pool deck. he should yell at them, but the smell of summery citrus and sea salt wafting on the humid breeze distracts him.

lifeguard!gojo, who pours every ounce of his remaining energy into gettin your attention the entire time you're there— with loud whistle blows from the scribble-adorned plastic whistle hanging from his neck, grabbing your attention, only to just offer a charming wink in your direction. or, squeezing idle small talk between every lap you swim, teasing you with a lazy grin on his lips from under his shaded lifeguard stand when you complain about the heat of the blazing sun.

lifeguard!gojo, who ropes his poor, exhausted snack stand friend with the blonde hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes into helping him— when you give up on swimming laps and begrudgingly let him convince you into going down the waterslides as if you’re a nine year old with neon pink inflatable buoy rings around your arms.

lifeguard!gojo, who forces nanami (snack stand man) to ‘accidentally’ send you down the slide early— you’re caught up in the surprise, the sound of rushing water and kids shouting and a cicada’s buzz filling your ears— and before you know it you’re tossed into the bottom of the pool by the stream of water, disoriented and panicking until two steady arms fish you out of the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who ‘rescues you from drowning’ holding you bridal style to his chest with his sunglasses balanced on the edge of his nose, letting you catch a glimpse of his uncanny blue eyes hidden beneath his dripping white hair. his whistle lanyard hangs loosely around his neck, drawing a line down the center of his toned chest.

lifeguard!gojo, who can’t help but double over as he laughs obnoxiously— boyishly when he gets to watch your face flush cherry as you scramble to get out of his arms and fall straight back into the refreshing water with a splash.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s forced to reconcile with what he thinks is defeat when he gets you kicked out of the pool early because of his earnest registering mistake— and in doing so, you forget your ring on the pool deck. it's just your luck— you don't even realize it until the sun's almost set and you’re halfway home.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning up and getting ready to close for the night when he spots a gleam of silver reflecting the hazy purple sunset, and he recognizes it as your jewelry (even though that was the first time he ever met you). of course he'd remember it— he'd been absentmindedly staring at your fingers, burning them into his mind; imagining how they'd feel in his damp hair.

lifeguard!gojo, who slips your ring into his pocket after trying it on and marveling at how small your hands must be in comparison to his.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s cleaning out the gutters, waist deep in the pool, when he hears your voice again— pretty like birdsong in the spring, dew gathering on the fragile petals of blooming petals.

lifeguard!gojo, who waits for you to come in— the gate was unlocked— and watches as you kneel on the concrete deck, elbows on your knees as you smile down at him. you look really cute, with your hair falling over your face like that, framed by the dying sunlight.

lifeguard!gojo, who’s a little disheartened when you tell him all you came back for was your ring, and not him. or his phone number.

lifeguard!gojo, who disappears beneath the water for a moment— then resurfaces from the pool dripping wet, hair clinging to his face while he acts as though he'd found your ring at the bottom of the pool. "it's stainless steel, yeah? don't worry about rust." he reassures you with a chuckle when you panic; he thinks it's cute.

lifeguard!gojo, who holds the ring just out of your grasp when you make a grab for it, laughing as you almost fall right into the pool.

lifeguard!gojo, who tells you he'll only give it back if you give him your phone number in exchange as he climbs out of the pool and sits next to you, on the gutters, the sound of rushing water filling his ear.

lifeguard!gojo, who, sitting by your side, focuses on the way the pool looks with the lights turned on, an ethereal underwater dreamscape distorted by the incessant moving water. a way of distracting himself from how beautiful you look in the painted sunset.

lifeguard!gojo, who gets his first taste of you when you ask him to face you; you muffle his yelp of surprise, but it doesn’t matter because you taste even better than you smell, a sweetness like crystal rock candy and blueberries on his tongue when his lips meet yours.

lifeguard!gojo, who takes the opportunity to catch your wrist and slide your ring back onto your finger with a quick lingering kiss to your cheek; his lips are a little wet from his earlier pool dip, but the dreamy look in your eyes tells him you don’t mind.

lifeguard!gojo, who sees you out, still riding on the thrill of your lips; the pride in his chest now that he's got your contact saved on his phone with an excessive amount of heart emojis and a (˘ڡ˘ς) next to your name.

lifeguard!gojo, who can't wait for the next time you come back to the pool, and who ignores the angry slew of texts from his boss scolding him for leaving the gate unlocked in favor of the selfie you send him.

you: [ one image attached ]

lifeguard boy 🛟🤍 : GAYATTTTT LET ME HIT PLSPLSPLSS 🙈🙈😝😝😝😋😋🤞🔥🔥🔥⁉️‼️🔞💯💯😼😻💺💺🗽

bonus: nanami gets u two popsicles to share tagging @sugumimi NAOMI I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WERE TALKING AB my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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hihimissamericanbi · 3 months

Text

FAVE HP SMUT CREATORS

Ever since I got that lovely anon asking for the best smut I've ever read, it got me thinking about some of my favorite smut creators in general.

So here is a very non-exhaustive list of fan-fucking-tastic smut writers and artists I've come across in the HP fandom that weren't mentioned (shamefully) in my last batch. Feel free to add to the list! We must keep the people fed.

xoxo go take a sip of cold water girl

WRITERS

@spookymoonie

Lord Espooky came into this fandom guns a-blazing with their kink headcanon a day for Wolfstar and it has spiraled from there. They GET IT. He has a super well-organized masterlist pinned to his tumblr ft tons of different kinks, fic lengths, scenes, etc. Go. Now.

@fiveht

The definition of IYKYK. Daddy kink isn't super my thing, but Five makes me enjoy it. If you vibe with age gap daddy Remus and pretty boy Sirius, their Adore series is a must-read. They also have a stellar A/B/O Wolfstar fic plus podfic and write some Marvel too!

@greenvlvetcouch

An absolute legend in this fandom. Wolfstar, Jeggy, Rosekiller. Gritty, chewy, embodied sex.

@emeryhall

Emery writes sex the way some people breathe. Like it's just part of the narrative. It's SO punchy. And also she is the queen of Crack Smut.

@kaaaaaaarf

Patron saint of Wolfstar hatefucks. mic drop.

@cancerravenclaw

We snagged MK over to Wolfstar from the clutches of Dramione. Her series "mk's kink exposé" could also be called "celine's kink exposé." I'll just leave that there.

@wolfpants

Everything they create is magic, but they are especially known for rare pairs and Dronarry.

WRITERS AND ARTISTS

@aspiring-artist-em

The queen of Lesbian Wolfstar. Both art and fic. Also queen of humiliation and pain kink and Walburga psychological trauma. ye be warned.

@upthehillnsfw / @upthehillart

I am afraid no one is ready for this art. Truly. Tons of different ships, positions, acts. I gasp every time. And their Pansmione fic is epic (which I have talked about before).

ARTISTS

@industrations

I highly recommend getting on Indi's Patreon so you can enjoy their NSFW drawings, mostly Wolfstar and Jegulus, occasional Rosekiller. Too many iconic moments to count.

@waxingrunes

The officially-sponsored artist of Five's Adore series. Look, their work is nothing short of indulgent. Shhhh don't worry about the physics just let it happen. And by It I mean Remus' big dick hands.

@basiatlu

By beloved. The one. The only. Bosh's drawings are so ALIVE. They leap off the screen. Her Drarry is nothing less than iconic. She also dabbles in other characters/ships like Wolfstar and Blackcest. Siriusly, you can't go wrong.

DRARRY SMUT

OKAY, Drarry people. There are so so many excellent Drarry smut writers it is impossible to name them all. Here are but a tiny handful I have pulled from my bookmarks. I'm happy to rec specific fics if asked :)

@cavendishbutterfly, @bixgirl1, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @shiftylinguini, @kbrick, @fluxweeed, @academicdisasterfic

I'm tagging those other creators from older asks because I can't put this list out there without them on it <3

@crushofdoves @we-are-swearwolves @tenthousandyearsx @theresthesnitch @lqtraintracks Quietlemonhush @cuddlebugsirius

#celine spills #celine's library #smut recs #hp smut #wolfstar smut #drarry smut #jegulus smut #HI FRIENDS i love you all #celine's flirting again #fic recs #hp fic recs #fan art #hp fanart #wolfstar art #drarry art #jegulus art

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papiliotao · 8 months

Text

꒰ 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✩࿐

pairing: lyney x gn!reader

content: fluff, modern au, high school au, friends to (almost) lovers, mutual pining, theatre kids, lyney and the reader rehearse a kissing scene

summary: playing the role of his lover in a drama production is easier said than done, especially when you’re just beginning to realize the nature of your feelings for him.

a/n: i had no inspiration for a while but then lyney came along. i’m so normal about him. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading!

When you were told that you had to kiss your best friend for a school play, you were in shock and disbelief — not because you were repulsed by the thought of playing the part of a couple, but because you realized that you didn’t mind the idea of his lips pressed against yours.

You’re not quite sure when the feelings crept up on you, dawning in your heart like the hazes of peach and azure that dust the horizon at sunrise. It feels like it’s been an eternity since you started loving Lyney, but you’ve just never noticed that your adoration was beyond platonic.

However, after experiencing your epiphany, you’ve been wondering if he shares your rose-tinted sentiments. Slowly but surely, you observe that the lines between friendship and romance have become blurred, fusing together in a myriad of watercolour hues.

Every once in a while, Lyney will hold your hand for no reason, the softness of his skin akin to the caress of gilded threads of sunlight. There are also instances where he’ll hug you for just a little too long, clinging onto you as if he never wants to let go. And of course, you’ll never be able to forget the sentimental nights spent gazing up at murals of sparkling constellations dotting pristine navy skies, where you cuddle with your best friend in an attempt to stay warm.

In these instances, a simple question lingers in the short silences, an untold inquiry that neither of you care to utter in fear of shattering the status quo.

What are we?

So now, as you sit across from Lyney atop the velvety cushions of his living room couch, ready to rehearse very kiss that sent you spiraling into a bout of infatuated hysteria in the first place, your heart can’t help but race. The melody it sings is one that speaks of perplexing feelings and a hope for fairytale endings, and it only amplifies as you look into pale violet eyes that sparkle as iridescent petals flutter about in their depths.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Lyney whispers, smiling at you reassuringly. There’s something soothing about the expression on his face, embodying the serenity of a marine zephyr in the midst of a cruel summer.

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to practice a kiss?” you ask, voicing your thoughts out loud. “What if we’re not good enough?”

Truthfully, you’re a nervous wreck. Your fingers tremble, and your mind feels blank. You’ve always known that Lyney was born to be on stage, but you didn’t think he’d be so nonchalant in a situation like this. His disposition is completely composed, not a single spark of anxiety shining through his tranquil demeanour.

On the other hand, you’re constantly pondering the what ifs.

What if you mess the scene up? What if it turns out looking awkward? What if it’s so horrendous that it makes the audience uncomfortable.

However, in total contrast to you, Lyney simply chuckles, his voice ringing out in a clear and soothing fantasia.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you, keeping his gaze fixated on you. “I’m sure our chemistry will be absolutely perfect. After all, even Lynette has mistaken us for a couple.”

“She has?” you blurt out, both shocked and embarrassed that Lyney’s twin has had her misconceptions about your relationship. The two are practically telepathically linked, so the tall order of fooling Lynette would more or less be akin to deceiving the heavens above.

“She has,” Lyney confirms, a mischievous spark of violet electricity blazing through his irises, “and that’s why I’m certain we’ll be able to pull this off flawlessly.”

He gently laces his fingers around your hand, bringing it up to his chest.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m not nervous at all.” From beneath the soft fabric of Lyney’s clothes, you can feel a gentle thrumming, a beat that resounds at a tempo matching that of your very own heart. “You know, even the greatest of performers get stage fright sometimes.”

In a mystifying twist, you feel more comfortable now that Lyney has told you that you’re not alone in your anxiousness. Your relief defies all logic, but perhaps it’s the knowledge that your feelings aren’t entirely unreasonable that soothes your nerves.

“I see,” you whisper. “Well I’m sure you’ll do great. We’ll get through this together.”

Lyney nods.

“I’m just glad it’s you,” he says, pausing for a moment as if deep in thought. “Actually, ‘glad’ would be an understatement. ‘Beyond overjoyed’ is more accurate.”

Your breath hitches, and for a second, the world seems to still, suspended in a momentary utopia. But despite your giddiness and the euphoric feelings that arise in your heart, you shrug Lyney’s words off, trying your best not to get your hopes up. After all, if you expect too much, you might find yourself disappointed in the end.

“The feeling is mutual. Although maybe we should get to rehearsing now. I think I’m ready,” you tell him, pulling your hand out of his grasp in a light motion, clinging on to the last of his warmth as his skin grazes yours. It’s reminiscent of fading sunlight comforting you with the dazzling radiance of a dying crepuscule, lulling you into a daze as it causes shades of twilight to waltz in a dance of fantastical wonders.

“Your wish is my command,” Lyney responds playfully.

However, after only a few seconds, his features shift into a more serious expression. Although the same smile adorning his lips, it’s softer now, more sincere.

Is this all part of an act, or is it real?

Additionally, an unidentifiable emotion now glints in a display of diamond lights, illuminating the seas of amethyst contained within Lyney’s eyes. Locks of platinum hair, composed of starlight essence, frame his face in a way that makes him look undeniably handsome. Once again, your heart, which had just barely stilled, begins to beat in a frenzy.

You want nothing more than to freeze time, stay in this ephemeral moment, relish in the sensation of his breath gently tickling your skin and engrave the ethereal sight before you into archives stored deep within your memories. But unfortunately, it’s impossible to pause the scene before you. Reality, unlike the countless movies and videos you’ve watched to study your part, stops for no one.

And before you know it, the divide between your lips and Lyney’s is diminishing, the blank space fading at a pace that feels both far too rapid yet far too prolonged at the same time.

Closer.

And closer.

Until your lips meet in a clash of opalescent sparks, shedding light and embellishing the magical moment with an atmosphere worthy of any stage. The lilac butterflies that dance in the pit of your stomach prompt sensations of glee to arise within your heart.

His skin is soft and warm, and the feeling of his lips against yours is just so right. There’s no one else you’d rather kiss. There’s no one else you’ll ever long for. There’s no one in the world you’ll ever love more.

No matter how much you deny it, your relationship has crossed the line from platonic to romantic, gradually edging closer and closer to a thin border before finally falling over onto the other side. Your kiss with Lyney confirms everything. There’s far too much passion, far too much care and longing exchanged in a single act of affection.

Best friends don’t kiss each other like this.

At this point you’re certain the feeling is mutual. Now, all you have to do is wait until one of you inevitably confesses, and you’ll both be able to finally live happily ever after, basking in the splendor of true love.

thank you for reading <3 if you enjoyed this fic, i would really appreciate it if you could comment or reblog!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin lyney

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

God the idea of Simon having a s/o that's like wayyy shorter than him something like 5'5 is doing things to me. This man is 6'4 something and he's HUGEEE AF, like i think it would be a turn on for him, having his babe so small underneath him. And i don't even need to get into how probably big he is down there too? The struggle to take him in everytime but the afterwards is a pure bliss. Ugh.

Like, i agree with what you said, this man is an epitome of masculinity. And the need and want to take care, love and protect his mate. <3 <3

Mmm. Mmmm.

Ok I'm just gonna leave this here.

Original photo: @ S0CIALHUNTER on Twitter

This is not a Drill

Word count: 2.2 k

Tags/warnings: SMUT 🔞, a dash of fluff, size kink (obviously), size difference, swearing, premature ejaculation, penetrative sex toy. F!Reader.

A/N: Gaahh. No poetry this time. Just pure filth. Enjoy 🍽

This might just be one of your better ideas.

You've done this in secret for two weeks now, hoping by the time he arrives, you'll be able to surprise him with how well you've trained yourself to receive him.

If you can take a large toy so well, day after day, it should help with taking him in more easily too. Right?

As in, take in the biggest dick you've ever had and, god willing, will ever have.

You're actually quite proud of yourself. Not only does this thing keep you juicy, but it also makes you thirst for him even more. The need to have something even bigger inside you, the knowledge that he can provide that bigger thing, makes your lips purse, makes your walls throb as you remind yourself that tomorrow, your man will finally come home.

…Except that the stealthy fucker has chosen to arrive a day early. You don't even hear him before he's at your bedroom door. Fuck his profession, fuck all that experience in sneaking around, even with all that mass…

He comes in just in time to see how the said dong comes out, slick with your wetness.

Oh shit–

"Well. What do we have here?"

He looks at the brutal object in your hand, then raises his eyes to you – flustered you, lying all naked and throbbing and flushed on the bed. He can barely hold back a smile, but it's his eyes that laugh with an amused gleam.

"Careful or you'll hurt yourself with that thing."

That's some cheese coming from someone who's even bigger than the crude thing in your hand…

"You said you'd come tomorrow," you mewl as your excuse. He cocks his head a little, raises an eyebrow.

"Disappointed?"

"No, of course not, but–"

"You want help with that?"

He gives a side eye to the toy still in your hand. You blink a few times, then reach to set it somewhere, anywhere – the bedside table has to do, but you're too clumsy, and the toy drops to the floor and rolls at his feet.

Jesus, could things get any more embarrassing?

He examines the sorry thing with a stare that says How pathetic. Because even if to you, it's gigantic, it's nothing compared to what he's got in those pants. And he knows it too.

"Now ain't this convenient. I can go straight in, right?"

"I– I'm not sure," you breathe with anticipation.

"Let's give it a try then."

He doesn't even wait for your admission, which would only be a blaring, blazing Yes please sir. He doesn't trouble himself with undressing, merely crawls to the bed and over you.

He pulls back only to get himself out of those jeans, and it always looks like he's drawing out a massive weapon. Even in his hands, which are fucking huge, the cock looks like an oversized beast. He's fully hard, too, probably started to gather blood there the minute he saw you on that bed, puny and shy and caught red-handed.

And he's as impatient as can be: finally, there's a chance he can drive that cock right in, that he doesn't have to warm you up for half an hour with mouth and fingers and hear you cry when it still takes a few tears and some swearing as he guides it inside.

But the toys are no help, it seems. The massive head of his cock disappears in you, alright… But that doesn't mean it feels safe or sound.

"Oh, no. No, no."

He halts, hovering over you with just the tip inside, pulsing wildly.

"No?"

Ugh, why did you have to pick the biggest colossus of a man to be your fuck buddy for the rest of your life?

"Just… slowly, ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

He swallows and gets back to it, more slowly this time, and the spread is delicious – but it's also blinding, and you always have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

You just need to relax; it can fit, it has been there dozens of times before…

"Fuck, you're– you're even tighter down here," he groans with a dry throat and a heavy accent that makes you instantly clench around him.

It appears that you have only managed to train your inner muscles with that ridiculous dildo.

So much for trying to coax yourself open with toys…

He feeds more of that thickness in, in, in, until his balls make contact; they press against your flesh while your pussy hugs him with a perfect O shape. You bite your lip and hold your breath, and you're not the only one gaping at the scene in mild shock and admiration.

"Look at that…"

He doesn't even bother to tone down the drunken arousal in his voice which always drops down a few notes when he's fucking you. But every now and then, it's tinged with concern. How the hell can you even take him fully in?

He glances your way with the smallest smile playing at the corner of his mouth, muscles taut with anticipation. The man simply can't wait to ruin you.

"You ready?"

No…??

You give him a frail little nod and some high-pitched, broken whimpers from your mouth.

"Uh-huh?"

He chuckles, then withdraws, slowly… But the next thrust is not that gentle, and your brows knit together in pleasure and pain. Well, it's not exactly pain, just… It's a little too much. If the angle was even slightly off, it would hurt. The wetness no doubt helps this business, but you still find your teeth sinking into your lower lip again – he starts to roll his hips, fuck you with experimental thrusts that, blessedly, don't plunge too deep.

You feel your inner walls both accommodate him and tighten around him; greedy, like it's no problem at all to have far too big a shaft stuffed down there. And not just crammed, but plowing: back and forth like you're a toy, too.

"What in the bloody hell have you been doing…"

He detects the tense muscles that pull him in every time he reaches the base. You're too small for him; that fact was established long ago. But added with the clenching and throbbing pulse of your cunt, a fervor that tries to suck him like he's a fat stick of candy cane makes his jaw gradually fall open. The man looks like he's going to pass out.

"Were you doing that shit for me?"

You smile and flutter your lashes innocently, all the while a giant is trying to work his giant cock in you.

"Yup. Welcome home, I guess?"

He looks at you, not with mirth, but with reproof. You're playing with fire, toying with a sharp blade, and teasing a man of his size might not be the best of your ideas.

But that's exactly what you are; a goddamn tease. You just can't help it. You know he gets an equal kick out of this setting: of you being so small. Anyone is small compared to him, but you're small compared to anyone. Next to him–not to talk under him–you look like a helpless doll.

And perhaps that's what this is all about: perhaps one of these days, you want him to wreck you.

Use you.

Even the very thought makes your cunt wrap around him again. Massive thighs at least twice the size of yours force your legs wide apart as he goes deeper – so deep that you can feel those balls again, hefty slaps against you as he tries to bury himself inside a place he's not meant to fit.

You always wonder what you look like under him, disappearing entirely under a dark shadow and hundreds of pounds of muscle. Spreading your thighs to offer too tight a slit to what's practically a monster. It must always be forced inside with sweat, patience, and needy grunts. How insane it must look for that thing to disappear inside you again and again until you're loaded with him… His cum never stays inside before you reach the shower, but the feel of it running down your thighs is absolutely glorious.

You notice he slows down the pace, which is odd. Normally, he's fucking you with abandon at this point.

"What's wrong?"

He huffs above you, chest swelling with shallow, alarmed breaths.

"Wrong? What's right, more like…"

He resumes with a thrust or two, looks down to where you are joined, and lets out an aggravated groan.

"I'm sorry, I can't…" He draws back as if to pull out completely, and you whine a complaint. A decision is made right away; he sinks back inside, fills you again and again, until…

"I think I'm gonna cum," he informs with apologetic alarm.

Oh.. Right.

… Already?

"It's ok… it's ok," you sweep your hands up his back, clutch him to make it known that he can collapse like a tower upon you, and you would only feel enthusiastic about getting buried under the rubble.

Use me.

Just fucking take me.

The look on his face is a rare glimpse behind the walls of a remorseless soldier: something primal but vulnerable, something fragile that only you are allowed to see.

"You can use me," you whisper, and it's like a spell that calls upon disaster.

"Ah, Christ…"

It takes only a split-second before he accepts your offer in full. You're planted in the mattress with starved thrusts, his thighs and chest spread you open until he's drilling you in an almost 90 degree angle. You're concerned for the bed's capacity to take this sort of plowing when you should perhaps worry more about your poor abused pussy.

It's such a heaven that your jaw falls open, too. You're dreamy and helpless under him while he's far from feeble. He looks like thunder above you, especially when you're looking at him like he's a demigod.

Like you're in love.

Which you are… And he knows it, even without that adoring bimbo stare you give him.

"Gonna–cum. Fuck, I'm gonna–"

You can almost see the sweat breaking, can feel the cock inside you jolting even when there's no room for it to do such a thing.

"Fuck–! "

It swells inside you as he cums with a painful groan. The orgasm seems to just last and last, and you realize with horror and thrill that the guy hasn't had a wank in days. Work has been a bitch, then, and you get to pay for it – a punishment you suffer with glee.

He gives you his all, squeezing you between arms that feel like a too tight cage, crushing you with a chest that feels like a compression machine burying you under an iron weight. Hard thighs press against yours until you're spread open for him to be buried in to the hilt.

And you know it gives him hell that he finished before you: it's on par with a failed mission, you suppose. Your mission, however, was a success. The body around and over you is coiled tight, but the tension gradually leaves. Obviously it makes him feel even more heavy.

He finally goes slack against you, just like you wished, and you almost squeal while getting imprisoned by a heap of heaving muscles. He's catching both breath and the remains of his pride as he lies there on top of you. The cock inside gives an occasional pulse, but you're forever hungry.

This man should be illegal…

You know you won't be left stranded for long, and seeing him so utterly done gives you enough satisfaction for now. You can wait for him to finish you in other ways.

"You're fucking dangerous," he huffs in your ear while trying not to crush you completely with his weight. He's gathering his strength in the solace of your neck, and you smile like you're on drugs.

"Does that mean you like me..?"

"What do you think," he snorts humorlessly on your skin, but you know he's more than happy. "'Welcome home'... Bloody hell, woman."

"I'm glad you're here," you laugh and place a hand on that broad back to caress him gently.

"Yeah. You can keep that toy."

"Perhaps I'll finish myself with it," you chirp to annoy him a bit more. Another triumph: you have to suppress a laugh upon hearing him groan.

"Now give me a bloody minute…"

Poor man. The thought that you feel just too fucking good to him, so good that it makes him lose control, gives you such a high that it's just sinful. The thought that a stoic goliath like him is rendered weak on top of a small, harmless woman is more intoxicating than a wine glass filled to the brim.

You pet the back of his neck and know he's probably tired from work and wants to sleep. You wouldn't object to falling asleep too while he's holding you.

"How about we give it another try after a nap?"

Your offer makes him rumble softly, contently; the man's ready to drop but also thoroughly enamored. Your heart skips a beat from pure happiness.

"Mm. You always have the best ideas."

#ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #mw2 smut

1K notes · View notes

rabbitblackx · 11 months

Note

Brahms,bubba,nubbins and chop-top reactions to s/o reader pulling a Rick grimes and biting into someone neck and ripping out their carotid artery 💀

Warning: Violence

Slashers when Reader bites out someone’s jugular

Includes: Nubbins, Bubba, Chop-Top and Brahms

Nubbins Sawyer💖

A victim had gotten loose from her seat at the dinner table. She leaped from the chair and bolted for the door. You stood up from next to Nubbins, attempting to block her way. The girl tackled you to the ground, eyes blazing with fear and adrenaline

Drayton ordered Bubba to grab his saw, while Nubbins ran to your aid. But before he could even pull out his knife, you lifted your mouth up to the girl’s neck and bit down. The victim screamed, desperately trying to claw at your face as you tore out her jugular with your teeth

The young woman fell off of you, gurgling and trembling on the floor. You shakily rose to your feet, blood smeared all around your lips. Nubbins laughed gleefully, kneeling down by the dying girl

“Look what you did!” He giggled, looking back at you excitedly. “You got that bitch good!”

The victim fell still, clutching her gaping throat. Nubbins lifted her up and roughly threw her back onto the chair, her wide eyes staring blankly at you from across the room. Bubba and Drayton came back, glad they didn’t have to do any work

Much to Drayton’s dismay though, Nubbins came in close to you and hungrily licked at the fresh blood on your lips

“That was so hot, baby.” Nubbins giggled in your ear, clinging to you like his life depended on it

He hooked an arm around your waist and pushed you flush against him. He slammed his lips onto yours in a big wet kiss, licking at the inside of your bloody mouth

Bubba Sawyer💖

You were trying to tie a victim to a dining chair, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He screamed in your face, squirming and kicking like a brat. The man was strong, and managed to break out of your hold. He tackled you to the floor, wrapping his hands around your throat

“Bubba, get yer saw! Get yer saw—!” You wheezed

Bubba bolted to the other room to grab his chainsaw, squealing in fear. You were going to just wait for him, but your vision began to blur. As the man tightened his grip around your neck, his own grew all the more tasty looking…

You shot your head up, teeth bearing as you drove them into his throat. Your victim gasped in pain, choking on his own blood as you bit down hard. He yanked himself off you, a chunk of his throat in your mouth

Bubba ran into the room with his chainsaw, but paused. The man hit the floor with a thud, blood pooling from his throat. Your masked boyfriend watched in awe as you spat out the bloody jugular, wiping your mouth with your arm

Bubba carelessly dumped the saw by the man’s body, rushing over to grab the sides of your face. He sputtered out some frightened gibberish, trying to ask if you were okay

“I’m fine, Bubba.” You giggled, beaming a big red smile

Bubba smeared the blood along your cheek with his thumb, before letting it travel to your lips. You obediently parted them for him, gazing lovingly at the man as he slid it over your wet tongue

Chop-Top Sawyer💖

Chop-Top and Bubba held a screaming girl down by the bucket, letting grandpa give her a good whack with the hammer. You and Drayton stood back unimpressed, just waiting for it to be over. Grandpa weakly lifted the hammer over his head, throwing it down but missing her head. Chop-Top let go of the girl to grab it, and that was when she broke free

You and Drayton were blocking one of the exits, so she shoved him away. Before she could do the same to you, you gripped her wrist and dig your nails into her flesh. The girl screamed profanities, pouncing on you and pulling at your hair. As your back hit the floor, you heard Chop-Top shouting at her to get off you

Before any of the boys could help you, you shot up and bit down hard into the girl’s neck. You shook your teeth a little, tearing up her jugular. Your victim bashed at your shoulders weakly, her blood spilling from the both of your lips. Just as she went limp on top of you, she was forcefully torn off by Chop-Top

“Baby! You okay?” He exclaimed

You turned your head and spat out the bloody jugular on your tongue. You gazed back up at him, blood all over you

“Yeah, I’m—mmm!”

Chop-Top interrupted your sentence with a passionate kiss, kneeling over you with a fistful of you shirt. He slid his tongue into your mouth, lapping up any blood he could get

Brahms Heelshire💖

You sat up in bed one night when you heard a sound from downstairs. You looked down at Brahms sleeping beside you, then back at the door. Thinking it was probably just a rat in the trap or something, you headed down to investigate

As you turned on the kitchen lights, you noticed the rat cage sat empty by the fridge. You turned to head back to bed, but was met with the sturdy chest of a hooded man. You went to scream, but his gloved hand wrapped around your throat. You wheezed and gagged, bashing at his shoulder as he strangled you

The intruder backed you into the breakfast table, slamming you onto it. As your vision began to blur, adrenaline hit you like a truck. You suddenly grabbed either side of his head, and pulled him down to your teeth. The man’s hand immediately let go of your throat, as your mouth latched around his own

You couldn’t believe yourself when his jugular was torn off, and landed right on your tongue. The intruder fell back onto the kitchen floor, gurgling in pain and clutching his gaping wound. You spat out his flesh, and watched in horror as he slowly died before you. Brahms finally rushed in, disheveled and stressed

“What happened?” He gasped

Seeing your bloody face, he completely ignored the dead man and raced over. You stared at him wide eyed, trying to form broken sentences. Brahms cupped your cheek, meeting your eyes in a fierce stare

“What happened?” He repeated sternly

Tears fell from your face, mixing in with the man’s blood. You bowed your head as your shoulders were wracked with sobs

“He… he tried to kill me. I—I didn’t mean to.” You cried uncontrollably

Brahms’ expression under his mask softened, and he pulled you into a hug. “It’s okay, dear.” He whispered, stroking your hair tenderly. “I’m proud of you…”

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theplumsoldier · 7 months

Text

taking care

summary: on thursdays you and joel have a drink, but this time poor old joel is in need of a friend and makes a confession, which brings you closer than ever before.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

word count: 8,1k

warning: angst, alcohol consumption, talk of sad bad memories ;(joel tells you about everything that went down at the firefly hospital; killing-spree, lying to ellie, etc.), self-l oathing, crying joel, mutual pining, friends to lovers bro, vulgar language, some domestic bliss, friends to lovers trope!!! mdni 18+: mentions of masturbation and fantasizing about friends, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, pet names. let me know if i missed anything! <3<3

You found it ironic how you had longed for the sun's blazing rays to warm your body all winter when summer had finally reached Jackson and now you were whining and moaning because it felt like you were being fucking boiled alive.

The sweat tickled down your skin, perspiration spread in your hairline, threatening to bunch into droplets and fall from your nose and brow. Joel felt himself tense up at the sight. Dressed in washed denim shorts, a t-shirt, and worn cowboy boots—it was a sight to behold. You looked like an angel to a southern man, and Joel had to clear his throat to make sure his voice wouldn't fail him.

"Still goin' at it? It's Milton's job to take care 'o the horses, y'know."

Chuckling, you shook your head and dusted your shorts as you stood. Running a hand over your horse's mane, you gave Joel a smirk. "You know she don't like nobody but me."

He chuckled. Joel had noticed that the more time you had spent with him, the more his own southern drawl began to echo in your own voice. Not much, not enough for other people to notice, he doubted you yourself even did, but Joel noticed—and every time he got a taste of that sweet honeyed punctuation, his stomach practically somersaulted.

Today, you hadn't been on patrol together, as you had the morning call and he had the evening call. You knew he'd just gotten back. Typically he would shower after duty, but today he hadn't and you knew him well enough to know why.

"Had a rough run?"

Joel huffed in response, forcing himself to pry his eyes off of you for a second. He had never seen you in this little clothes before and was finding it quite difficult not to give you a one-over when you had turned to him completely.

You had tied your flannel around your waist, leaving your arms bare for the sun to tan and it was then he couldn't help himself. Your cleavage was revealed in the little top you wore, droplets of sweat glistening on your skin as they trailed—

Joel cleared his throat once again, "ya up for a nightcap?"

A sly smirk landed on your lips.

Leading your horse May back into the stables, you walked with Joel to his house, to share a drink or two as you did every so often. You sensed a sort of tradition forming, recalling you had done this exact play every Thursday for the past few months. Five out of seven days a week you patrolled together. On Mondays when you were both off duty you played pool. On two out of seven days, you were in no way obliged to see one another and yet, here you were, making it a tradition—ensuring that you would not go as long as 24 hours without keeping each other company.

You wanted to ask about the day he had had but decided against it and settled on asking how Ellie was doing instead. Having come to know Joel quite well, you understood he would rather let work-related matters stay work-related and it seemed fitting to veer your attention at Ellie as you recalled Joel saying she was doing good at school. You should've talked about the weather. The weather was a safe bet.

"S'it turns out she didn't even go—keeps holdin' out on me," Joel worried, clearly contemplating what might be on Ellie's mind.

Some weeks back, Joel had been thrilled to hear that Ellie was doing good in the school in Jackson, but as it turned out, she had lied to him about going. He wasn't sure where she'd run off to, and that bothered him more than the fact that she was keeping things like this from him—how could he keep her safe, if he didn't even know where she was?

It was clear Joel blamed himself for a lot of things, and though you were well aware he didn't always tell you everything just as Ellie didn't tell him everything, you never hesitated to assure him he was doing a good job. You admired the way he cared for her - it was obvious he loved her and she loved him - although you doubted they ever spoke of that. One night Joel had shared with you a portion of what Ellie had been through, and even admitted that there was a time, a brief span where Ellie had gone through hell for him and he didn't even know what she had endured back then—he blamed himself for a lot of things that happened to her, constantly reminding himself that he was not good enough, that he let her down. Joel hated that feeling, that he was failing yet another daughter and he needed to get a whole lot more of his chest, to talk to someone—to you, about what had happened before they returned to Jackson. He just never could, never knew how to begin nor how to explain why he'd done all those atrocities—what else might one call it? It was fucked up, all of it, but the situation had been so very fucked up too and he just needed someone to agree with him on that, he needed you to ensure him he had been right to make the choices that he did.

But Joel had always been good at keeping his feelings bottled up, letting them mix together over the years until an occasion allowed him to relieve some of the stress that concoction produced.

You had confronted him about it once when you had felt a small fraction of his anger—he had admitted and apologized, for it was so very unprompted he realized when he took it out on you, which led to a much more calm and collected conversation where you advised him to relieve himself of all that weight he insisted on carrying like fucking Atlas lifting the universe. While you didn't want to act like you were any better at that yourself - getting help, that is - he agreed you were right. In that moment he understood and doted the fact that you were willing to let your shoulder be one for him to cry upon if need be. Of course, he wasn't going to do that every chance given (patrolling helped a lot with his anger issues, giving him an excuse to commence violence); nevertheless, Joel felt touched to know you would be there for him.

Instead of dumbing his shitload of stress on you, he found himself going out of his way to see you outside of your communal duties, your company somehow helping in other ways. Though Joel never initiated any deep conversations with you, they happened every now and again and those nights, when he'd go to sleep, it felt as if he could rest just a bit easier.

The sun gradually went over the horizon, the blue sky melting into a nuance of lilac, bringing with it the cold and quiet air of night. This was a peace neither of you had experienced in a long time before settling down in Jackson and therefore as sacred and precious as a promise.

You helped yourself to another drink and Joel quietly watched on as you poured the liquid gold. Holding up the bottle you tipped your head to look at him, silently asking if he needed a refill.

Over the years Joel had become a man of few words and meeting you he suspected he had found his match. You only conversed freely around people you liked and enjoyed the company of, not nearly bothered enough to spare even a glare at those who didn’t deserve your time.

You decided to joke to lighten the mood and hoped you weren't overstepping. "Come on, Joel. I know you're older than me but you must've been a teenager at some point."

It made him snort and his brow jumped at the change of topic though he wasn't about to object. You adored it when he looked at you like that; the way he glared when you teased him or made him laugh. "If I was I sure don't remember."

Joel downed the rest of his drink and held out the glass. You leaned forward and poured him a couple of inches and for a second Joel slipped, forgetting his guard and manners as he watched more of your chest expose to him. He wasn't sure when his attraction had begun, but he had noticed that lately he just couldn't seem to oppress it. Joel would waste away at night, fighting the urge to let himself give in to his desires and fantasize about you as he fisted his cock—and he was strong on that part. It was hard (and in more ways than one) but he felt disrespectful even thinking of you like that. He was supposed to be your friend; and what kind of friend would he be if he was ready to betray your trust when he was feeling lonely.

He gulped.

Finally prying his eyes off of you, Joel wet his dry lips and slushed the drink around the cup.

"You're a generous bartender," he remarked sarcastically.

You laughed.

"You've got expressive eyes, you know that?"

He stopped with the rim of the glass at the tip of his lip, pausing, fearing he had been caught. The thump, thump, thump of his heart resonated in his ears.

"'S that so?" he pondered. "What're they tellin' ya?"

Joel hoped you didn't notice the way his breath hitched in his throat when you leaned back in the rocking chair with a smug smirk on your lips.

"That you were a troublemaker," you grinned. "But you never got in trouble 'cause you were so damn charming as a kid. Probably shoplifted gum or some shit."

Joel laughed. You weren't too far off; he did occasionally get into trouble and he did usually get out of it with no problem—his mom had called him the luckiest boy in the world. The memory struck a cynical thought in his mind; he might have been lucky but not enough to miss the end of the world.

Joel decided to entertain your guessing game. "I ain't ever shoplifted. Didn't have the guts for it," he tutted before taking a swig. "'F I had it would've been condoms though."

Your eyes squinted and crinkled as you bit back a cackle. Your head fell back and your chest bubbled with laughter and he knew he shouldn't have made the last comment when he felt his cock strain against the seams of his washed jeans.

"Joel Miller—scared of a lil' thievin'?" you teased, moving your boot from the porch railing to shove at his thigh.

There was that southern accent you had obtained from him again.

He masqueraded his discomfort by shoving back at your foot with a chuckle—he wasn't sure why he kept his hand on your boot though, keeping it in the place you had put it.

"I didn't have sex till I was like 24..." Joel's expression turned sour as he noticed yours did the same and sensed a bitter memory. Then you mused, trying to make light of the bitter picture that flashed in your mind: "Thought it was love. Turns out it was fear."

You shook your head as if to shake the thoughts out. You'd been through a lot since then, toughened up and become brave enough to fight for yourself, but the memory was still clear. You had vowed to never trust another man again which was why it made this blooming attraction to Joel Miller all the more difficult. The last thing you had considered when coming to Jackson was to try and build a life, and yet; here you were, having built a life with friends and found family in a prospering community with a steady ass job and bars and cafés and all that shit as if the world had never ended.

It seemed almost like you had been feigning sadness for your mien changed so abruptly it caught Joel off guard. You said with casual indifference: "How 'bout you? Ever manage to find love in this fucked up world?"

Joel wasn't sure if you were testing him. You had said he had expressive eyes and completely misread his mind—now he wondered if it was on purpose. The way you nudged him with your boot (that he was still holding onto) told him you were very aware of what you did to him.

And you noticed—of course, you noticed the way his eyes would effortlessly glide over your body, down your body whenever you moved an inch. You had noticed his attention before, but not like this. Not when it shamelessly continued when you had caught him and it made you realize you were not making stuff up in your mind.

Joel wanted you, too.

Now you just wanted him to admit it.

"Once or twice," he finally admitted though his answer gave you little to work with.

You supposed it was the question and not the answer that was the problem; there's a fine line between loving another person, caring for another person, liking a person, and enjoying their company. You had once been told that one could determine if they loved someone, romantically, in just a few minutes by looking into the other person's eyes. It made you wonder—how long would it take you? Would you find that you did in fact love Joel Miller after just 3 minutes? Or would you find that there were more cons than pros to your relationship? Perhaps you might hate him, and this attraction was spurred on by a sadistic kind of hatred and a need to put him in a vulnerable position.

No. That seemed unlikely.

When you first met him you thought he was arrogant, manipulative, and cocky.

Now that you had spent so much one-on-one time with him, you had realized he was confident, persuasive, and fearless. He seemed impossibly skeptical because he was cautious, and he appeared bossy but that was just him being self-asserted.

You couldn't possibly blame a man for being confident when the trait suited him so well. Right now, you had just hoped he was confident enough to let you know how he felt.

Suddenly you shivered. The days had become unbearably warm but the nights were equally unrelenting with the cold.

"It's getting cold."

"Y'wanna call it a night?"

"I'd rather go inside," you shrugged blatantly as if it was not a big deal. It was. Despite how long you had known Joel and how often you were in his company, you had never been beyond this porch, never stepped into the humble residence. You pressed, watching him rather intently: "S'that weird?"

Joel's fingers were intertwined in his lap, thumbs picking at each other. There was a blank yet somehow inquisitive look in his brown eyes and you couldn't tell if it was because his mind was going over what you were offering or because the whiskey had caught up to him.

He let go of his lip with a tsk and shook his head. His gaze softened, and a faint but certain smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. "Not at all."

Joel made the move to stand up and your boot found the ground below with a thud. He grasped the two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, then pushed the door handle with his elbow.

Inside the walls were painted a deep orange and it reminded you of curry. Though it was not a nice color, it made the room appear warm and cozy with the lights on. There was a green couch which pretty much made up the living area. A bartop separated the kitchen from the dining room and there was a small mess atop the table where you supposed Ellie had been drawing. It was only then you noticed the art decorating the house, Ellie's drawings displayed in beautiful gold frames like in a museum. It made you chuckle.

"Where's Ellie anyway?"

Joel slouched down on the couch, arms spreading around the back and you looked over just in time to catch him parting his legs, thick thighs smothering the couch cushion, looking oh so big and handsome. What a slut, you thought.

You occupied the space left beside him, pulling your legs up under your body, and thanked him as he handed you your glass. In an effort to test the waters, you let your fingers brush over his knuckles as you accepted the drink, watching him closely. He shifted a bit, but in no way trying to distance himself from you. Your knees rested against his thigh and you could've sworn he only moved his leg closer to you.

"She's with that girl Cora."

"Flemmings?"

"Yeah."

Cora Flemmings was a sweet girl, not the type you would have guessed Ellie would want to hang out with, but you guess that's where your relationship with her ended. You had realized she was quite likable early on, witty and smart, too, but that was about it. She didn't allow a lot of people to get close, and you supposed that was fair all things considered—still, you couldn't help but feel you had let her down. It was stupid, really, but being as close a friend to Joel as you were, it felt like you should know her better.

A shared a couple of more drinks, just lounging on the couch, side by side, your shoulder pressed against his. It was not unusual for Joel to be quiet even when you would go on talking about whatever came to mind, but you noticed he was being more unresponsive than normal. You knew him too well to think he was getting drowsy from the mix of the late hour and the whiskey. His mind was on something else, and again you wanted to pry, but you knew better than to do so.

To your surprise, he let you in: "Can I tell you something?"

It was a stark contrast of serious pondering compared to the mindless rambling of life in outer space, going from negative numbers to a hundred in a split second. You were caught off guard, but tilting to look at Joel instead of the ceiling, you nodded softly.

It was difficult not to notice the tension in his body, sitting close to him and all. Feeling his chest rise with labored breaths, watching his jaw clench and loosen up, only to flex again, you realized something far deeper than extraterrestrials was on his mind.

Nothing could have prepared you for the burden he was about to unload. Joel resumed to tell you how when he had first met Ellie, she had been nothing more than precious cargo to the Fireflies, a girl believed to be immune to Cordyceps. It was his mission to get her to Salt Lake City, but when he and Ellie reached St. Mary’s Hospital, he discovered that the doctors would have to perform a brain operation. It would kill her. Everything that had happened up until that point had been for that specific moment. His bottom lip trembled as he told you he didn't even have to think about it before he grabbed the gun and started shooting. "It was easy," he said as tears welled up in his eyes. After spending months protecting and getting to know Ellie, getting to love her like his own daughter—he wasn't about to not rescue her from yet another certain death. He recalled how they'd had a brief moment before it all, where Ellie admitted she wanted to stay with Joel after the procedure. "Used it as an excuse," he cried silently. "She 'ad no idea she wouldn't come out on the other side."

Your heart sank as it all dawned on you. Everyone involved robbed Ellie of any agency at all.

What seemed to be the worst part for Joel, though, was when he lied to her. Saying she asked him point-blank to tell her the truth of what had happened back there. He spoke through gritted teeth, his gravelly voice clawing its way through his heart in his throat: "Then I told her the fattest lie."

You wanted to jump in, reassure him he did what he thought was right and at least gave her a chance of life. But you couldn't. It was too big a mouthful, too tough to swallow it all at once and give him some not-thought-through assurance.

It was a lot to take in.

You had never doubted Joel would do everything in his power to protect the ones he loved, but this—it was all too visual to get behind. Impeding finding a cure, the rampage through the hospital, the lying. It was easy to see Joel hated every part of what he had done, though he did not regret it. It was horrifying to think, but it didn't not sit right with you.

That's what parents were supposed to be, right?

Protectors.

He might have acted out of his own interest; he might have stripped her of what she believed—what she wanted to be her destiny, but he did it out of love.

You couldn't possibly sit here and say you wouldn't have gone full-on Attica to save the ones you loved. You couldn't possibly tell him you would have done the same either. In more than one way, you were much like Joel, only you hadn't had that kind of bond with anyone in a long time, and so it was impossible for you to understand everything Joel had gone through, everything he still went through.

At this point became quiet, his soft sniffles reduced to staggered breaths. His hands shook in his lap as his fingers fidgeted. You reached across and took his hands in yours, the size difference almost comical in your smaller ones.

"I hate that you went through that, Joel," you began, biting your lip as you contemplated your words. "It was... It might not have been a difficult choice then, but it's no doubt difficult to live with."

You hated to think he had done that, but you could see that he, most of all, was disgusted with himself for lying to her. That would have hurt him more than anything else he had done that day, and it was evident he hated himself for that.

You squeezed his hands between your own, prompting him to look at you.

"You did what you thought was right. You did everything in your power to protect her. You can't possibly be wrong for that."

His eyes dropped and his face contorted, beating himself up. Although his head bobbed in a quiet nod, agreeing with you, your words didn't do much to convince him.

You wanted to cry, loathing the thought that you couldn't convince him he was not a bad man, couldn't help him.

A different approach then.

You were aware that Joel possessed an innate distrust in systems: He had shared with you his experiences with the government back in the day, his experience with the Fireflies, his experience with FEDRA. Nobody had ever worked in his favor.

You were so focused on helping him that you didn't even realize you had reached up to cup his cheek. Stray tears bedewed the upper edge of his stubbles, and you caressed the patch mindlessly with your thumb. You had never been this close.

"Hey," you whispered softly, keeping his despondent brown eyes on you. It broke you but you put on a determined face. "It's okay, you're okay, Joel—you're here. Don't beat yourself up about it, it's okay."

He didn't believe that. Joel's mind was in turmoil, his thoughts turning on him, torturing him.

His eyes squinted, forcing a new wave of tears to flow and you shook him, more harshly than you meant to. "Joel, hey—hey! Look at me, look at me, Joel."

He forced himself to snap out of it, a sharp inhale clawed its way down his throat, forcing his lungs to be filled. The scent of you, the scent of a day's work and macadamia shampoo, calming his senses.

It's okay.

You're okay.

You're safe.

Finally, his labored breaths ceased and he managed to stop trembling. Bringing himself to look at you, you didn't miss the way he gulped, his expression turning soft with the remains of deep lines carving his features.

"Good, you're doing good, Joel," you praised, too close, too deep in it not to brush the fallen strings of dark, matted hair out of his face. "Look whose to say these people had any clue what they were doing? Hell, even if they did manage it—say they produced a cure—what then? How'd they distribute it? How'd they manage to cure the last of us while the Cordyceps is still out there, constantly mutating? I—I mean they might be able to save a couple hundred, maybe thousands—but what's the use? People would get infected along the way, people like us, who are safe here in Jackson, we'd go out there again and risk our lives just to get the vaccine—a-and what for? We've already lost this battle. S'it really worth saving what's left?"

As the tension of your rant died down, you suddenly became very conscious of the way you held onto Joel. Your hands had settled on his shoulders for purchase, and the fleeting thought of how fucking broad they were this up close, made shame crawl your skin.

Dropping your hands, you watched him intently, looking for signs of discomfort, hoping you hadn't gone too far.

Though his expression was difficult to read, your gut told you he was grounded again, and you boldly leaped at the opportunity to provide that last bit of assurance.

You wet your lips and sighed.

"I won't act like I know what is right and what is wrong, but I can't blame you for doing what you believed to be the moral choice. You are not the villain."

Watching as he was deep in thought, a pang of guilt struck you. On more than one occasion, had you accused Joel of being prone to overthinking. From experience, you knew that entailed tossing words around to better fit the negative narrative in one's brain, and now you worried you might have said too much to have been any help at all.

Worriedly, you spoke your mind: "I hope I didn't say too much, make matters worse."

Joel didn't look at you just yet, but he instantly shook his head. "No, no," he muttered, collecting his thoughts. Breathing in was easier now, he noted, the pinching strain in his chest changed for something else. A small chuckle escaped him and he cleared his throat and shifted in the couch to cover it up, as if he didn't mean to let it slip. Turning to you, there was a small glint in his eyes. "Thank you. Really, I… You know, wouldn't 'ave vented to you like that if I expected you to keep your mouth shut. Trust me, you didn't make me feel worse, doll."

Doll. It played on a loop in your mind.

Doll, doll, doll.

"S'good," you mumbled, eyes flickering down his chest. "Cause, you know, really ain't what I was goin' for."

Joel's chest rumbled with a chuckle. There it is again, he mused to himself. That little accent he must have rubbed off on you and that thing in his body tickled his insides again. It had been a long time since he had felt this way, but it was unmistakable.

It dawned on you that you must have been looking at him with the sickly adoration of a girl in love, for when the grin faded it was replaced by—confusion, maybe? Curiosity?

"What?" you blurted, mentally deadpanning for albeit short, it was a sweet moment of quietness and you went ahead and made it weird.

Joel then looked puzzled, his head tilting like a bewildered dog asked if it wanted to go for a walk.

Your heart missed a beat at the look in his eye, another when the brown orbs dropped and lingered on your lips. As if the air had been knocked out of you, you suddenly felt breathless, frozen in place as if struck by fear and you wondered how you could be so stupid. What else could it be—not confusion, not curiosity but the need for knowing; if the same thing that was happening to his heart was happening to yours?

"I-I—" you stammered but were quickly cut off as Joel jumped from the couch as if he had realized he was late for something.

"I, uhh," Joel interrupted though he had no better speech prepared than you had. He scratched the underside of his arm, looking both bashful and hot with embarrassment.

The silence resumed and you stood up as well, trying to figure out what the hell to do with your arms so that you wouldn't look so awkward. "Tell you what, you uh—you go clean up and I'll make a little dinner and we'll eat and I'll get outta your hairs, then." The thought of leaving didn't sound as appealing as you thought it would. Making a fool of yourself, just a second ago, ruining whatever that had been, you would have jumped at the opportunity to hide under the covers, but now—you didn't like that idea one bit. You reminded him—but mostly yourself: "We still got an early morning tomorrow."

Joel frowned, shaking his head. "No, yeah, yeah—you're right, sure."

Without another stumbling attempt at conversation, he spun around and disappeared, feet trotting to the sound of his palpitating heartbeat.

Locking himself in the bathroom, Joel immediately started cursing as he scrabbled about, ending up with his palms firmly pressed against the sink.

Finding his reflection in the mirror, he stared into his own eyes for a minute, collecting his crumbling self. "Get it together."

Stripping out of his clothes, Joel turned the faucet on and stepped into the shower, not bothering to wait for the water to get hot. He needed to cool down, anyway.

He couldn't get the moment out of his head and wondered if he had misread the entire thing. Could it be, that he had merely been so entranced by his own emotions, that he resorted to some simple wish-thinking? Perhaps you realized, coming out of the sympathetic spell, that you cared for him no more than a friend.

Joel scrubbed harder down his body, heedless to the itch that burned around his newly acquired wounds and scratches.

He couldn't get the image out of his head: The way you had looked at him as you clutched his face in your hands, comforting him—it wasn't how friends looked at each other, no matter how much they cared for one another. Joel looked for signs of the same display of affection earlier in the night, and he recalled your banter, your boot teasingly pushing at his leg, and the way you watched him over the rim of the glass.

Stepping out of the shower, he had managed to get his spiraling thoughts under control, sweep them under the carpet, if you will. Drying off, Joel was about to leave the bathroom in nothing but a towel, as one often would in their own home, but reminded himself that you were in his kitchen.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he begrudgingly jumped into a fresh set of clothes, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a tee when he reappeared in the living room.

Joel cursed his own stupidity when he saw you standing there, mindlessly swaying your hips to Y Andale playing in the background (you had found his stereo) as you stirred the pot. He should have put on a pair of briefs to hold the hardening outline of his cock in place.

When you turned around to place the pot on a felt coaster on the dining table, you gave a start as you saw Joel just standing there. He looked devilishly good in the plain outfit, hair damp and slicked back.

You offered him a smirk. “Hope you don’t mind—jus’ couldn’t help myself when I noticed the stereo.”

All the reasons as to why Joel couldn't do a thing about his attraction to you, all the strength he had just mustered in the bathroom to hold himself back; it all went down the drain as he became aware of the vividly domestic setting before him.

You had little time to assess the situation as Joel closed the space between you in just four strides. Before you knew it, one large hand cupped your cheek and another pulled you close by the waist. There was a split second of that something again, and then he pressed his lips to yours.

Your eyes fluttered close and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his touch (not that you wanted to). His lips felt dangerously soft and puffy, surprisingly warm and inviting as they passionately touched your own. In a delirious moment, the fresh scent of him veiled you like a pleasant comforter after a long day at work, those plush lips wrapping around yours, nibbling, sucking—all too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

Breaking apart for air, you felt light-headed, like the room was spinning and you were hot with fever.

It looked as if the black of his pupils had swallowed up the brown of his irises. You were weak, thinking you were the root of his lust. Joel breathed your name.

"S'this okay?"

Biting your lip, you blushed. Putting it into words somehow made it seem all the more real. Even if it was a dream, you hoped you would never wake up.

You let out a shaky breath, unable to hold back the small chuckle it turned into. "You don't have to ask, Joel."

He chuckled then, too, realizing it was probably a bit too late for that anyway. The way your teeth let your lower lip go only made his cock grow harder. Holding you closer, firmer against him, Joel sucked in a breath. "F'you let me, I don't think I can stop."

You prayed he could feel your heart beating against his chest, the way you could feel his cock poke your lower stomach.

Searching for his eyes, you nudged your nose against his. "I don't think I ever want you to stop."

He didn't waste another second.

Crashing his lips to yours, the kiss was more heated than the first, showing you exactly how much he wanted you. Swiping his tongue against your lip, you let him in without hesitation, tasting him for the very first time. Tongues dancing and teeth clashing, Joel snaked his arms down your body, lifting you from under your thighs with a grunt.

You were so caught up in finding his soft spots, kissing him gingerly on his neck, that you didn't realize where he was carrying you until you were splayed out on his bed, melting into the mattress.

Eagerly reconnecting your lips, you found yourself having completely forgotten about the soup, relishing the feeling of the open-mouthed kisses Joel pressed to your skin.

Moaning as he nibbled the skin below your ear, you pulled his face back up to yours, wanting to prolong the kiss. He gave in to your desires but trailed his lips down your neck as your fingers entangled with his hair and you began writhing beneath him.

Finding that sweet spot he had only gotten to graze before you pulled him away, he brought his lips close to your ears and whispered: "You gonna let me take care o' you now?"

Too lost in the sensation, the feeling of his warm lips brushing your skin, the press of his body weight against yours, you couldn't do anything but moan, whimpering a small “please”. He could do whatever he wanted with you.

Noting the bliss you were caught in, Joel chuckled, but he was determined on an audible confirmation. Grasping you by the jaw, he forced you back down on earth. "Tell me you want me."

Brows furrowed and hips desperately bucking up, you whined and responded, "please, please, Joel—need you."

Joel had to steady himself against you, feeling his muscles weaken at the sweet, sweet sound of your begging.

"S'a good girl," murmured he, letting his hands roam every curve of your body, every hill, and every cleft. Squeezing your hip, you felt the coarse pads of his fingers caress the skin beneath your top. "Take this off f'me, yeah?"

You quickly got rid of it, not particularly eager to move your hands from his body. Joel laced his fingers through yours, pressing your hands at either side of your head as he eagerly kissed you, his warm tongue darting out of its cave to invite you to dance.

His palm kneaded your breast, a low groan escaping him which you swallowed down, moaning when his coarse thumb swiped across your nipple.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked lowly, and you whimpered meekly, bucking your hips up in response.

Joel worked your shorts off of you, and it seemed to get ten degrees hotter in the bedroom. He had left your panties on and as he trailed a path of wet kisses down your body, you groaned pathetically.

"Joel, please," you begged, not sure whether you wanted his fingers or his mouth, his tongue or his cock.

"I know, pretty girl, I know," he hummed, but there was little sympathy in his tone. A wanton sound escaped you when one of his fingers expertly nudged your clit, like he already knew your body like the back of his hand. "Look at you, baby, so pretty and ready f'me."

You had never given it much thought, whether Joel was one for pillow talk, but you certainly didn't mind it. You couldn't even be flustered about the mess you must have made in your panties; not when his eyes were enlivened with adoration and words laced with desire, not when his touch felt so enticing.

Joel pushed your panties aside and ran his fingers through your slick, kissing and nibbling at your inner thigh.

Moaning, a chain of pleas left your lips. Another low chuckle escaped him and you barely managed to pout down at him before his tongue darted out, collecting your arousal in a long, painfully slow lick. Eyes fluttering shut, they rolled to the back of your head while your hands clutched the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white.

"Holy—f-fuck!"

His nose, so perfectly shaped rubbed against your clit and his beard tickled your sex, making you squirm.

Joel used his hands to part your legs further, giving them a squeeze to let you know to keep them in place. His fingers spread your sex and groaned when his thumb played with the bundle of nerves.

As his tongue licked up and down your wet pussy, your legs threatened to close in on him and he must have noticed your struggling because he praised you, murmuring you were doing so good for him. You spread your legs as if on command, determined to be worthy of the praise.

While his thumb circled your clit, a finger prodded against your opening, coating it in your arousal as Joel slipped inside and he grunted. "So damn tight for me, baby girl."

So concentrated on holding your legs in place while he worked you closer to the edge, you involuntarily ground down on his hand, adding to the pressure on your clit, and felt his thick finger spread you so deliciously.

He chuckled, "y'want more, huh?" Adding another finger to the mix, he curled two digits against your spongy walls and you cried out. "I know, I know, baby. You're doing so good, pretty girl, clenchin' down real nice—fuck."

Joel allowed you to feel him as he worked his fingers in and out of your sex at a tauntingly slow rhythm, leaving you to feel the stretch when he was knuckles-deep.

"Fas—fuck! Faster Joel," you moaned, panting as you became increasingly impatient to reach the impending orgasm.

Joel watched you intently, jaw slack, and peppered open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. He picked up the pace, grinding his own hips into the mattress.

"Fuck, baby—that's it, keep makin' those pretty lil' noises for me. Doin' so good," he encouraged, feeling his mouth wet with drool.

"Please—want your cock, Joel," you whined needily.

"I know, I know, baby girl," he sympathized, squeezing your thigh as if to comfort you. It only made you shift beneath him, as his fingers seized pumping, curling against your clenching cunt. He lulled, "you can take a third, right?"

Any answer close to making itself audible was interrupted by his tongue lapping at your clit, adding to the euphoric sensation of three fingers prodding your entrance. A moan got stuck in your throat and your head slammed back down on the pillow, crying at the stretch.

Joel must've sensed your orgasm approaching for he increased the steady thrusting, his movements not once stuttering while his tongue persistently flicked your clit. A wave rushed over you as he coerced the orgasm to be ripped from your writhing body with inaudible praises, letting you ride out your frenzy on his now-soaked face.

Bleary-eyed, hands balling up the sheets, you willed yourself the strength to look down at the sight—and by God, it truly was a sight.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. Your cheeks flushed red, and you pulled him into your neck to hide your embarrassment, as if he hadn't just eaten you out as if his life depended on it.

Joel held your face, eyes mindlessly scanning over your features. "Don't be shy now, baby, tastes goddamn delicious," he hummed with a satisfied lull to his tone, pressing his lips to yours.

"No one's ever done that," you blurted, not entirely sure why you would even admit that.

A frown settled on his face, something resembling disbelief and amusement, and then a strained touch of lust padded over his expression. He was not hesitant to admit that only turned him on all the more. Joel’s ego even told him you had been waiting, saving yourself just for him.

You reached between you to pull down his sweatpants and Joel was happy to let you help him out of his constraints: He had had to stop grinding into the mattress while going to town for fear that he might cream his pants. That would have been embarrassing, busting like some teenager finally getting some action. Though he was touch starved, he would hate to wait any longer—he needed to finally feel you—finally be a part of you.

You had always imagined Joel would have a big cock, but your fantasy scenarios did him no justice—he was long and thick, heavy as his weeping tip pushed against your entrance, and you realized why he had insisted on stretching you out first.

Your sex lives had never been a topic brought up in conversation prior to today, but you could imagine he knew it had been a long damn time. Feeling his cock prod against your sex, you felt thankful for the forethought.

"Fuck," Joel shuddered, sheathing himself in your cunt. His forehead bumped against yours. "So damn tight f'me, baby girl."

You latched your hands onto his shoulders for support, wincing at every inch he filled you with.

Joel hadn't noticed he had been holding his breath before he bottomed out in you, a ragged groan finally releasing itself from his dry throat. He caught your heavy-lidded eyes with a boyish smirk—he could hardly believe this was happening, after so long. "How ya feelin'?"

You let out a breathy chuckle, overwhelmed by the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of his smell and his touch. "Over the fuckin' moon."

The worry vanished, wiping his face clean to replace it with another expression, a search.

You tucked him closer, grasping his ass to feel him better. "Fuck me now."

Cock twitching, saluting your command, and obeying your wish, he pulled back, thrusting his hips forward in a grinding motion that had you gasping for air, eyes rolling back.

Joel pressed sultry kisses to your neck, to your cheek, and to the corner of your mouth. Cupping your face in one palm and holding himself up by his elbow, he forced you to come back to him. "Eyes on me, pretty girl."

There's a spot inside you, one you can't recall ever reaching, but when Joel does you're sure your fingernails dig little crescents into his skin. White hot blurs your vision, a string of wanton moans and curses leaving your lips, panting. "Holy shit."

Your hands roam over the expanse of his chest as his thrusts become harder, more relentless. The sun-kissed skin warms your palms and your foreheads brush, breaths shared.

"Fuck, it's like y'were made for me," he sighed, brows creased in concentration and eyes fixated on where his cock disappeared inside your cunt. The sounds of skin slapping were so fucking vulgar and he's right, you thought, and he was made for you, too.

His rhythm was designed to make you see stars. The coil in your stomach tightened and he must have felt you squeezing around him, for the motions only became harsher, his hips crashing into yours in precise strokes.

Joel's head drooped, nose brushing your temple as he shook his head. "M'not gonna last much longer," he confessed lowly.

Dexterous fingers snaked between your sweat-licked bodies and he rubbed your clit, desperate to feel you come around his cock.

Gasping, holding onto his shoulders as he rocked your body back and forth, you forced his eyes to lock with yours. "Come inside me, Joel," you begged fervently, and you knew it was risky, very fucking risky, in fact, but you couldn't care less—you wanted to feel all of him.

The didn't deter him one bit, however, if anything it spurred him on, the jolts of his hips becoming animalistic. He found purchase on your shoulders, holding you in place so that he could better fuck up into you. His hips began stuttering, sinful groans falling from his dirty mouth. "You want me t'fill you up, yeah? Want everyone to know who you belong to? That's it, baby, come around my cock 'n I'll fill you up real good."

Losing yourself to the mind-wrangling orgasm, your legs spasmed and you cried his name, repeating it like a prayer while he fucked you through yours, chasing his own.

With one, two, three thrusts, he spilled inside you, burying his cock deep in your cunt as his purchase buckled under his weight. You didn't care that he collapsed on you—you had never felt better, never felt more full.

Coming down from your highs, you held him close even when he slumped down against your side, his softening cock slipping out of your sex.

For a few moments, you just lay there, regaining your breath, feeling the reality of it all wash back over you. It felt silly having to summon the courage to face him again, but you couldn't help the blush that colored your cheeks.

Joel spoke first. "Can't believe it took us so damn long," he mused, somewhat dumbfounded with a grimace of disbelief. You melted when his strong arm cradled you closer to his chest.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, sighing quietly along to the rise and fall of his breathing. Yawning, you drowsily mumbled, "I don't ever wanna leave your side, Joel."

Joel pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, holding you close as he felt sleep closing in on him. "You won't, sweetheart. I won't let you." Your heart was racing but sleep managed to pull you under its grasp. Joel relished the languid hum you offered in response, and he brushed the hair from your face, kissing you one last time. He could barely wait to wake up with you in the morning. "Sweet dreams, pretty girl."

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

Note

i am kinda in the mood for some angst~_~

if you are comfortable can i request the side characters reacting to their s/o (mc) was in a middle of a panic attack in front of them and fainted suddenly ?

thank you!

When MC Faints/Has a Panic Attack Scenarios | DIAVOLO, BARBATOS, SIMEON and SOLOMON 3.3k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Hurt/Comfort | Angst Content Warnings: Mentions of physical injury/illness and unspecified trauma, protective and possessive thoughts/behaviour, use of pet names.

DIAVOLO

Diavolo doesn’t get as many opportunities as he would like to explore the human world. He mentions wanting to visit there more often, and of course, he wants you to go with him. When you jokingly offer to join him as his tour guide (and his friend, and his lover), he has to balance his reckless sense of adventure with the responsibilities of being a prince.

With some gentle persuasion from both of you, Barbatos agrees that it's acceptable for his young master to indulge in a well-earned vacation. Occasionally.

(There may be extra paperwork waiting for Diavolo on his desk when he returns, but he reminds himself that it’s worth it to spend more time with you.)

Diavolo’s enthusiasm knows no bounds. You show him brochures for the amusement park you’re taking him to - the largest in your home country - and he’s already made a list of all the rides he wants to go on and the special attractions he wants to see.

You’ve been there before, and you brace yourself for a long, busy day.

You arrive together when the park gates open, and it’s an endless circuit of ride after ride after even more rides. It’s a sunny, humid summer day and by noon you’re dripping sweat and trying to reapply sunscreen with shaky hands. The concession stands make a fortune from the overpriced bottled water Diavolo buys for you, but it seems like your throat is parched beyond relief.

Diavolo’s current interest is the park's inverted upside-down roller coaster. You've been on this ride in the past and enjoyed it, but for some reason you feel a sense of dread while you wait for your turn in line. The scorching heat blazing on the back of your neck and shoulders does you no favours.

When it's your turn at the front of the line, Diavolo helps you into your seat before he sits next to you. He dangles his legs and kicks his feet happily when the floor lowers away.

As your seats slowly stutter up the steel track towards the first big hill, your eyes start to blur and you try to blink the sensation away. The ride has you twisting and rolling through the air at incredible speeds, but it feels like you’re still falling in an infinite drop.

When the ride comes to an abrupt stop, Diavolo laughs and offers you his hand when you stumble out of your seat. You follow him as best you can, but the world seems to tilt. He smiles when he feels you lean against him. He’s about to ask if you want to get in line and ride the roller coaster again, but you don’t answer - he catches you when you start to fall.

The amusement dies on his lips and he scoops you into his arms. He carries you through the crowd until he ducks behind a concession stall out of view of potential onlookers. He looks around discreetly before using teleportation magic to take you back to the Devildom.

As soon as you materialize in the Demon Lord’s castle, he shouts for Barbatos and kneels with you on the ground so he can examine you. He doesn't understand what's wrong. Your eyes are open but they’re unfocused. You’re talking, sort of - it’s more like incoherent mumbling under your breath, but he thinks you’re trying to say his name. He brushes his lips across your forehead and cheeks and it suddenly occurs to him that you feel so warm.

He thinks about all the times you mentioned that you disliked the summer heat in your home country, that you would get dizzy in the sweltering humidity. You didn’t like being in the sun for too long and he teased you about how often you were reapplying your "sun block."

Diavolo feels like a failure for not being more considerate of your needs. He watches helplessly as a royal healer kneels down and begins casting restorative magic on your weakened form. Diavolo promises himself he’s not going to let something like this happen to you again - not if he can help it.

(He won’t know until later that you saw a humidex warning pop up on your phone the morning of your trip, but you didn't want to cancel for his sake.)

After Barbatos consults Solomon and verifies that you simply need to rest and to stay cool and hydrated, Diavolo carries you to his room. He lays you on the bed you share and curls against your side protectively. He murmurs apologizes over and over again into your shoulder while he squeezes your hand in his.

BARBATOS

Barbatos worries about you when his responsibilities to Diavolo take him far away from you.

Sometimes you accompany him on trips that allow you to explore parts of the realm beyond the bustling metropolis you're used to. He likes seeing your giddy excitement when he can show you something new, something you might not have seen if it wasn’t for him.

Other times, he’s forced to leave you behind. Some of the destinations are simply too unwelcoming for a human with your sensitive disposition. This particular excursion is related to royal matters and lacks the fun sightseeing opportunities he wants to share with you.

After nearly a week, he’s restless with the anticipation of seeing you again. He’s not sure whether to be irritated that he’s been gone from you for so long, or excited that soon he’ll be by your side once more.

Diavolo delights in teasing his friend and insists it’s a bit of both.

Barbatos won't argue with his young master when he begrudgingly agrees.

You’ve had plenty of work to fill your spare time since Barbatos’s departure. It’s exam season once again at RAD and you’re being held to even higher standards than before because of your status as a sorcerer. When you’re not studying for exams, you’ve been helping Lucifer with student council affairs, or accompanying Solomon on human world excursions related to the Sorcerer’s Society.

Barbatos feels the first inklings of concern when you send him messages in the middle of the night, long past your usual bedtime.

“I’m catching up on these study materials Satan gave me then I’ll go to bed, promise!”

You wake up each morning with a greeting from him; Barbatos wishes you a pleasant day and he reminds you to eat something. He doesn’t like your bad habit of skipping breakfast. Since he’s been gone, he suspects that you’ve started skipping or delaying your other meals, too.

“I grabbed a snack in the cafeteria before class, I had a meeting at lunch time.”

“There’s a witches dispute Solomon would like help resolving, I’ll eat dinner when I get back.”

Barbatos is tempted to send Lucifer and Solomon thinly-veiled threats that their impositions on your time shouldn’t affect your well-being to this degree.

When he asks you one evening if they're putting too much pressure on you, you insist that things will go back to normal once exams are finished and he returns with Diavolo. You promise that you're eating and sleeping enough and he doesn't have to worry.

He decides not to involve himself directly unless you ask him to, and of course you don't.

When Lucifer calls him unexpectedly on the second-last night of his trip, he realizes that he should’ve gotten involved after all.

Barbatos is standing quietly at his young master's side while Diavolo mingles with guests at a dinner party. When his D.D.D. starts buzzing, Barbatos is surprised when he sees Lucifer's name flash across the screen. He excuses himself and heads to an empty balcony so he can take the call privately.

Lucifer skips all pleasantries and small talk when he answers. “Before I say anything else, I would like to emphasize that they’re fine—“

Barbatos’s breath hitches and the heart you insist he has, the one that beats for only for you, cracks in his chest. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Lucifer explains that you had some sort of fainting episode - he mentions stress and lack of sleep and something Solomon called low blood sugar, but Barbatos can barely concentrate on what he says over the dull roar in his ears.

Barbatos senses his young master behind him, and he hopes his expression is perfectly neutral when they exchange glances. Lucifer must’ve sent Diavolo a message about your condition as well because he looks at Barbatos worriedly; his young master is fond of you, too.

Before Barbatos can ask more questions about how you’re doing now, and what they’re doing to take care of you, and how Lucifer and Solomon would like to be punished when he returns, Diavolo motions for him to pass over his phone.

“Barbatos will be arriving shortly to evaluate the situation on my behalf,” his young master informs Lucifer before wishing him a goodnight and hanging up the call.

“But my Lord, the meeting with the dignitaries—“

Diavolo shakes his head and smiles at his oldest friend. “The meeting isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. It gives you plenty of time to visit and make sure they’re alright. Stay with them tonight and return in the morning if you’re satisfied their condition has improved.”

Barbatos knows it’s a blatant disregard of his duties to the young Prince to leave him so suddenly because of his personal matters.

He also knows it’s the height of unprofessionalism to leave his master’s side so abruptly.

Barbatos knows he’s a hypocrite, but he barely waits a moment longer before he teleports himself to the House of Lamentation to be with you.

SIMEON

Simeon loves sharing perfect moments of domestic bliss with you.

It doesn’t matter when or where - Purgatory Hall, the Angel’s Halo café, the human world apartment he secretly keeps just for the two of you - he wants nothing more than to nourish your body and soul with simple, cozy gestures that prove his love for you.

His responsibilities to the Celestial Realm, the petty orders from Michael that have him travelling all over the three realms, have kept him busy lately. He misses you desperately and he’s frustrated when he wants to see you but he can’t.

You’ve tried to teach him how to use this D.D.D. for times like this, so you could send each other pictures or make video calls when the longing becomes too unbearable.

(His own technological skills are still a work in progress but he cherishes whatever you send him.)

But one day he asks you how you are, and you mention very casually that you don’t feel well, and he has to remind himself not to panic.

Lucifer would have contacted him right away if it were something serious - right?

Simeon calls Lucifer afterwards to check on your condition (knowing about your habit of downplaying your problems not to worry him), but Lucifer assures him that everything is under control.

That's not good enough. Not for you. Simeon calls in some favours with his fellow angels and manages to secure a couple days’ off from his responsibilities so he can come see you.

Simeon couldn’t be more thrilled when he arrives at the House of Lamentation the next morning. He gets to care for you personally while Lucifer and his brothers are at RAD all day. Any time he spends with you is special, but alone time together is the most precious to him - it's a luxury he greedily indulges in, when he has the chance.

When he arrived, he brewed you a cup of herbal tea before you laid down together for some much-needed snuggling. You insisted he didn't need to go to all this trouble for you, but he winked and insisted that he wanted to spoil you.

Your stomach growls and it seems like a good time to think about making something to eat. When you rise from your bed on shaky legs, Simeon wraps an arm around your waist to support you. He thinks you look a little pale, but you tell him you’re fine. He heads to the kitchen to start making food for both of you while you slip into your ensuite bathroom to shower before lunch is ready.

Simeon is chopping vegetables when he hears the first dull thud. He sets down his knife and frowns, walking closer to the shared wall that separates your room and the kitchen. After a moment, there’s another thud that’s even louder. And then another, the loudest noise yet.

He rushes out of the kitchen and heads to your bedroom. He can hear the quiet hiss of the water running through the door that leads to your private bathroom, but you don’t answer when he calls your name. He tests the doorknob - you left it unlocked, thankfully - and he steps inside. He waves the steam away from his face and he calls your name again. You don’t say anything, but your pained groan is just as worrisome as silence.

When Simeon pulls back the shower curtain, you’re sitting at the bottom of the tub and slumped against the side. The bottles of toiletries you dropped - or knocked over - are scattered around you. He fumbles with the faucet to turn off the water spraying at your back, and he tilts your head up so he can look at you properly. Your eyes are glazed over and unfocused, but your hand - your poor, trembling hand - reaches up and tugs weakly at his sleeve.

“M’dizzy,” you whisper. Your voice wavers and the words slur together.

He rests his forehead against yours. “I’m here, my love,” he murmurs quietly to comfort you - and himself.

Simeon reaches for one of your towels hanging on the wall behind him, and he wraps it around your shoulders. He maneuvers you as gently as he can so he can lift you out of the tub and cradle you against his chest. He tries to dry you off while he rocks you in his hold, humming under his breath to soothe you. He pauses every so often so he can kiss your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

You’re too tired to be embarrassed by the way he carries you back to your bed, helping you put on warm pajamas and tucking you into the blankets like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

(You are.)

After you rest, Simeon tells you that it was a low grade fever that probably caused your dizziness. The feeling gradually fades and as evening approaches, you don’t feel lightheaded anymore. He’s reluctant to leave your side, and he cares for all of your needs personally: providing you with cool water and warm herbal teas; making healing potions to help with your headache and sore throat; and cooking soft but nourishing foods to keep you full.

When Lucifer and his brothers return from RAD and insist on seeing you, Simeon sends them away from your room with hushed suggestions to leave you alone and be quiet. His words are polite, but the dangerous glint in his eye promises pain for those that might disturb you.

No one can take care of you better than he can.

SOLOMON

Shopping with Solomon in the human world is always a fun adventure. You’re at a mall in your hometown (your home-away-from-the-Devildom) and giggling at Solomon’s baffled expression. He examines a vending machine full of large, colourful cake slices and other desserts. You shake your head when he points to the rainbow-coloured cake slice he offers to buy for you. He takes a picture of the display and sends it to Luke before he reaches for your hand.

Your goal today is to buy a birthday present for Asmodeus. You have a small list of makeup and body care to buy for him, all made with scents or ingredients that are unique to the human world. You probably could’ve used Akuzon to import the items you want to buy - but where’s the fun in that?

Solomon offers to carry your shopping bags for you, and you link your arms together while you stroll lazily through the mall. Every time he spots something in a store window he thinks you'd like - a shirt that compliments your eyes or complexion, or a lovely piece of jewelry - he has the urge to spoil you. He glances at you with half-lidded eyes and tries his best to convince you that yes, you would like your lover to buy that for you as a gift. Your usual response is to roll your eyes at him while he grins.

(He's adding all those items to a mental list of gifts to buy you later.)

He stops outside a large boutique when he spots something in the window he wants to pick up for Asmo. You nod your head towards the bubble tea shop next door and tell him you’re going to grab a drink while he picks up his shopping. He promises to come find you when he’s done and he steps inside while you head towards the line-up nearby.

It can’t be more than a minute or two when Solomon feels you next to him while he’s browsing a rack of colourful blouses, looking for one in Asmo’s size.

“Did you miss me that much?” Solomon glances at you with a teasing smirk, but he frowns when he sees the expression on your face.

You’re not looking at him. Your wide, frightened eyes are staring where you came from, the entranceway that leads back to the mall. Your hand on his shirt clenches into a fist, and you’re trembling.

Solomon drops the bags on his arms and reaches for you. When he pulls you against him, he can feel your shallow, panicky breaths when you pant into his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you imploringly. He cups your cheeks and forces you to look at him. Tears are welling in your eyes and when you blink, they start to trickle down your face. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head and he doesn’t know what to do to comfort you. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re afraid he’s going to disappear. He can barely make out your gasping whisper: “I need to get out of here.”

He rubs his hand up and down your back soothingly. He walks both of you back towards the change rooms where there’s more privacy, and when he’s sure no one is looking, he disappears both of you back to his home in the human world.

Even in the comfort of his front hallway, you're still shivering and your breathing is quick, panicky and uneven. He encourages you to match his deep breaths, and he reminds you that you’re safe and that he’s here for you. The erratic beat of your heart eventually calms down, and you look up from where you were hiding your face in his chest.

“There’s my darling love,” he whispers when he cups your cheek. Both of you have red, tear-stained eyes now. He brushes his lips against your forehead.

“I’m sorry I ruined our shopping trip,” you whisper hoarsely.

But Solomon shakes his head and hugs you again. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He waits a moment before he asks quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You tense in his arms and shake your head ‘no.’

Solomon doesn’t mention what happened at the mall, and he spends the rest of the night holding you close and taking care of you. When he offers to go back the next day to repurchase the items you left behind, he knows better than to ask if you want to go with him. The very mention of that place causes fear to creep into your eyes, and it nearly breaks his heart.

It's several days later, after you both return to the Devildom, and he notices that you're still incredibly anxious about something. You glance around nervously in public, and sometimes you stare off into space with a slightly haunted look in your eyes.

Solomon’s not sure who or what you saw that day, but for the first time since he met you, he feels utterly powerless.

#obey me dateables #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #gn!reader

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kat651 · 3 months

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elves having sensitive ears (pt 2)

Celeborn:

he slumped into a seat and ran his fingers through his long white hair, pushing it out of his face as he let out a long sigh and looked down at the document in his hands, scanning the content.

Celeborn pushed his hair from his face again and it fell and he sighed, clearly he’d had a long day.

his hair continued to fall in his face, agitating him more and more. You chucked and walked over, pulling his hair out of his face before becoming mesmerized by the softness.

Celeborn glanced at you before looking back at the document. You smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear, causing him to drop the document and grab your wrists gently.

“y/n, the ears of and elf are far more sensitive than you could ever imagine…”

your face heated up. “I’m sorry!”

Celeborn gave you a soft smile. “I never said I didn’t like it…”

Haldir:

you came up behind him as he was sharpening his sword, this was the only time you could ever catch him off his guard.

you pulled the hair from his face and placed a kiss on his cheek.

you watched his lips go into an o shape before he fixed his composure. “I assume your prepared for war then?”

“war? Why are you always so seriou-” next thing you knew you where in his lap, his lips on yours and sword long forgotten.

“if anyone sees me like this, I’ll never live it down…” he mumbled as he fell onto his back in the soft grass, tour lips still on his.

your arms went around his neck, getting lost on his hair. Your lips left his and blazed a trail up his jaw until you reached his pointed ear, nipping at it playfully. he grabbed the back of your shirt in two fistfuls and let out a whine that he tried to suppress.

you knew instantly that you’d found his weak spot and planed on using it against him when needed.

pt one here

#celeborn #x reader #kat651 #lord of the rings #lotr #cute #haldir x you #haldir x reader #haldir fanfiction #haldir of lorien #haldir #celeborn x reader #Elves #tolkien elves #ears #elf ears #pt 2

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hyewka · 3 months

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goodbye.

jesus christ hes getting bolder with his thirst straps lol im totally not losing my mind or anything and my minds definitely not jumping to writing hard thoughts or whatever…….

the tie and the half way pushed down jacket—at first i was like ceo!soobin but then i dispelled those thoughts when my mind went to another au….uptight, too neat and proper for your liking, too genius for your liking, the same scrawny lanky, nerdy and stuck up nose soobin from high school, your academic rival, the height of all your suffering through those treacherous four years, all your hard work being snuffed out when he ended up getting valedictorian instead of you. being the same person you now have to routinely go to for tutoring. humiliation had creeped up on you—you think thats what drove you to do what you did. having him in ruins under you, gasping and sniffling uncontrollably, trying to claw his hands for any warmth, any of your warmth, but hes weak against you—he turns into a puddle when you hiss and hold his hands above his head, his tie loosened, his ironed, previously clean shirt now stained with sweat patches and drool that had fell from his seemingly permeant horny hung open mouth. now suddenly you dont dread coming to these tutor sessions, not when u get him to look so debauched and dirty, a side of him you’d never thought in a billion years you’d see. he just keeps pathetically humping like a perverted dog, seeming like hes lost his all reason just to get to cum. “please, please, please, i cant take—hahhhh..fuck, oh— i cant, icanticant, let me cum, g-gonna burst”

“admit im better, admit it.” you say through gritted teeth, tightening your hold on his wrist, now doubt bruising— now for whatever reason feeling rage surge through your veins, all the humiliation and insecurity from when you were younger going full blaze

you think soobin mightve lost his mind, or he mightve not been affected as much as you were by the constant pitting and comparison to each other as teenagers, but that wouldnt make sense because he was constantly engaging in bickers and heated arguments with you. or maybe he has no idea what hes saying or—

he does it again, he says it over and over again, like a chant; “youre better, youre better than me, y-you always were—o-oh god, oh god, fuck, youre so smart and— and pretty youre-" hes cut off by his own strangled and muffled moans, ruining, what you assume to be his finest denim jeans

#✶ ━━ rana ; answered #🌷. rana thoughts #when i start i literally cant stop jesus #sub soobin.#kaimond

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everlastlady · 7 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎 '𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

✰ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! My little heroes, villains, and civilians. The first Miguel O 'Hara post. Hopefully it's good, I'm not really good with Spanish so I'm using a translation thing to help me with the language. I do plan on learning Spanish after I finish learning Italian on duo, anyway if you enjoyed this story then my request box is open. You can support me by blazing, commenting, hearts, or reblogging. Don't forget to eat, drink water, and take your medicine. Also support your local fan fiction writers.

✰ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: kidnapping, drugging, manipulation, violence, lies, and stockholm syndrome.

✰ Part 2

• You are an absolute sweetheart to everyone at the society. Always making lunches for those who you were friends with or patching them up from missions. You always put others first, your smile could lit up a room. At first Miguel didn't think much of you, he honestly found you annoying and sometimes would have to tell you and Peter to be quiet whenever you both were trying to make Mayday laugh. " cierra el pico both of you, go do that somewhere else. " so when you and Peter left. Miguel sat there for a while wanting to hear your laugh again but not with Peter around, not with anyone around.

• He loved your cooking, he would tell you that he's only accepting your food out of respect. But he would ever last drop as if he was starving. He wondered what meals you would cook if you two were married, what dishes would you make whenever he came home from working. What lunches would you pack him. Would the kids help you with dinner. Miguel started asking you to bring him lunch everyday saying that he didn't have time to make his own and didn't want to spend money on take out. " Gracias cariño " he likes how your fingers brush against his whenever you hand him the bento box.

• Recently he stopped sending you on missions and is having you help him in the lab or having you in the medical wing to patch up other spiders. You didn't mind but you missed going on missions, and Miguel could tell but he knew soon that you wouldn't miss missions. And he was right, you started to distract yourself by stopping crime in your own universe and hanging out with the other spiders. Miguel didn't like this, what if get hurt in your own universe or worst fall in love. Miguel swore that he heard you talking to Noir and Peter B about this guy from your favorite coffee shop called Steven Grant. How you almost got hurt trying to stop a robbery in your neighborhood. He needed to plan something, it might be painful and hurt him emotionally but he needed to teach you a lesson.

• Boredom was killing you as you sat in the lab and started playing with paper clips but you jumped when Lyla flashes on your watch. " Woah, don't fall over and die (name), I'm blessing you with my presences to tell you that Miguel is sending you out on a mission since everyone else is busy or Miguel thinks they aren't capable. He thinks you can handle it so chop chop get to it! ". With that Lyla vanished. You let out a gleeful noise and put on your mask as you open the portal and jump through. You thought this was going to be fun and easy especially since you been training but you thought wrong. Everything in this universe was wrong; it was all dark and gloomy. Here you are running away like a scared child while bleeding. You suit in had claw marks and tears slide down your face. Crying into your watch for help. You were covered in claw marks, bruises, and your wrist broken.

• No one seemed to be answering their watches when you had Lyla contact Jess, Peter, Gwen Noir, Miles, and Hobie. No one picked up but Miguel did when you screamed for Lyla to call him. And when Miguel showed up he took care of the threat. " ¿Estás bien querida? You had me worried when you didn't return, come on let's get you to the medical wing. " Miguel picked you up, your injuries made you pass out but you could have swore that Miguel was smirking before you shut your eyes.

• You eventually woke up but you weren't in the medical wing, you were in a bedroom and it didn't belong to you. A delicious smell entered your noise and you looked down to see your wrist bandaged. You carefully got out of the bed groaning. Still sore from your injures. You left the bedroom and walk down the hallway and into the kitchen where Miguel stood cooking a delicious meal. He eas wearing a tight black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Miguel turned around and saw your confused look. " Ah! corazon your awake! I brought you here because your injuries were so bad that I decided to treat you, also I didn't want the others to feel bad for not answering you. Good thing I answered you or else you would have been dead, now you know why I don't want to send you on anymore missions, you aren't strong enough which is fine, you were made for better things. " Miguel turned around and went back to cooking. You stood there and looked down, was Miguel right are you weak?

• Miguel had you sit down at table which you did still looking upset. " Now don't pout, until your injuries heal you can stay with me. I'll tell the others that you are on vacation a well deserved vacation. You do so much for everyone and take care of everyone. It's time for someone to take care of you~ " Miguel lifted up the fork to feed you some of the food. A break did sound nice and you could try to mentally recover from what had happened on the mission. So you agreed to stay at Miguel's place until your injuries healed. It wouldn't take that long for you to get better right?

• Wrong..... you always felt so weak and sleepy after every meal, Miguel made for you from breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even small snacks. You body always ached, you threw up, felt dizzy, and tired. Miguel ran some test and told you that you were sick but didn't know what you were suffering from. When you wanted to leave because you didn't want to be a burden. Miguel shook his head telling you that you weren't a burden that he would take care of you and that he didn't mind the company especially after all he lost. That made you feel sad so you stayed. Miguel bought you anything you wanted to make you feel at home, he even brought your clothes and other items from your apartment which felt weird at first because you didn't give anyone your address.

• While Miguel was gone and didn't come home the usual time he did. You were hungry and Miguel always cooked for you. So you wanted to surprise him and cook a meal for him and you. As you were going through the cabinets. You find a strange green bottle with some purple liquid inside. You ask Lyla about it, as she was painting her nails and not looking at you, she said the ingredients along with the side effects. " Not safe for human consumption, why do you ask? " She called out. Your whole body froze, was Miguel drugging you? Did he plan this whole thing to trap you here. You ran towards the bedroom to look for your watch but couldn't find it.

• " Looking for this corazon, it's rude to leave without saying goodbye or even a thank you mi amor for taking care of me... " You turned to see Miguel holding up your watch. Before you could react, Miguel threw it down and stepped on it. The watch broke into pieces. " oops... " Miguel quickly walked towards you and caged you with his body as your back was pressed against the wall. Tears stream down your face, this had to be a nghtmare. " D-Did you drug me, why did you drug me!? Did you send me on that mission knowing what would happen to me!? " You screamed at Miguel. Who stared at you with those red eyes. " Yes... because I needed to teach you a lesson that you are weak and only I can protect you because..... (Name), I love you~ " you flinch when Miguel strokes your cheek and wipes your tears away. " You are sick... " You said in between panic breathes. " I'm not sick, I was doing what was best for you... for us and you'll understand that soon but let's get you calmed down wouldn't want you to pass out again... " Miguel leans foward as you struggled. Miguel bit down sinking his fangs into your soft skin as you scream. But soon your body froze. " Shhh, te quiero. " Miguel laid you on the bed and left the room.

• You stayed trapped in Miguel's home for weeks. He told the others at the society that you quit and didn't want anyone to contact you since you wanted to retire from being a hero and didn't want any reminders or memories of the society. Of course everyone was upset but respected your wishes, if only they knew that truth. Just because you were kind that didn't mean you don't have a fighting spirit. You always fought to escape and tried taking Miguel's watch but he always overpowered you and knocked you got, always yelling his lungs out at you. " 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋 fighting me, I'm trying to care for us for you! I don't want to keep fighting you. But you leave me no choice but to do this..... " Those last words from Miguel made your stomach drop. He locked you in a room and only left you a blanket and a mattress. The room had a bathroom but no windows. " I'll let you out when you learn to be a loving partner. " And he left you alone in that dark room. The only time he came back in was to bring you food but said nothing and left.

• Being in that room was driving you crazy and the food wasn't good it was just microwave meals that weren't cooked all the way and the room was cold. You sat there on the mattress crying all day and all night. Screaming for Lyla but she didn't respond because Miguel instructed her not to. After a month you sat there feeling mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. The door opened as the hallway lights burns your eyes. Miguel stood there with his arms out while staring at you, he stood there waiting and you got up. Walking over you hug him tightly. Miguel smirked and hugged back as he planted a kiss on your head. " Have you learned your lesson, do you love me? " He asked while rubbing your back. You nod your head. " Then say it, say you are sorry and that you love me. " Miguel said while hugging you tightly so tight that he could snap you in half. " I'm sorry for being selfish for not appreciating what you do for me, I love you Miguel, please don't send me back into that room, I'll behave, I love you, I love, I love you. " You said in between sobs.

• Miguel smiles and kissed you. " Good, let's go get you properly cleaned up and a good meal~ " Miguel picked you up and did as promised, he gave you a bath, fresh pajamas, and cooked your favourite meal. The two of you even sat on the couch watching your favorite movie. What made Miguel happy was how you cling to him. How whenever he went to the bathroom you would panic and try to follow him. " Don't worry cariño, I'm just going to the bathroom I'll be back watch your movie and be good and I won't put you in the punishment room. " Miguel kissed you and left. That night you laid in bed with him and quickly fell asleep since you were in an actual nice bed. Miguel watched you sleep and was finally happy that you had you.

Part 2 coming soon comment if you wanna be tagged in part 2

#miguel ohara x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x you #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere stories #miguel ohara x gender neutral reader #everlasting writes🪻#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction

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autumnaaltonen · 1 year

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Here’s an idea of the reader loving all of his forms

Like he would use his other forms to fluster the poor reader

Oh hells yeah. After conducting that Alucard simp poll a couple weeks ago, we now know that the love for Alucard's various forms stretch across the board.

Alucard Using His Shapeshifting to Fluster His S/O

It was common knowledge in Hellsing that there were many shapes and forms Alucard could take on. Sometimes he was shadows in the ceiling corner, spying on guests as they speak with his Master. Other times he could be mist under the dining room table, listening in on conversations between Hellsing staff on the goings-on of the manor. He was unpredictable, and this made everyone hyper aware of what they said while on duty.

You, on the other hand, have been his lover for quite a bit, and when you manage to wiggle into Alucard's dead heart as you have, guessing his patterns and whereabouts becomes a bit of a game for you.

Integra: "Damn that creature, he did not arrive for our scheduled meeting with the Iscariot, again. Where the blazes is he?"

You: "Oh, he was there. He's just hiding in your shadow again."

Alucard, from Integra's shadow on the carpet: "The sun was at it's peak. Why should I burn myself for those Catholic hypocrites?"

Integra: "Why you-get out of there!"

You: "I did advise you to close the blinds, sir."

As clever as you are, Alucard does not find this at all amusing. He lives on being a master of deception and trickery, and you just manage to throw off his whole vibe.

So one day, he decides to turn the tables on you.

You wake up early morning to start the day, and turn to kiss Alucard good morning, as he always joins you in bed before taking his daytime slumber.

To your shock, you turn to find a slobbery black dog cuddled up to your side. Baskerville licks a wet stripe up your face, getting slobber in your nose and eye.

"Hilarious", you grumble sarcastically, before shoving the hound off of you to go wash your face.

Later that afternoon, you go to retrieve a box of Sir Integra's favorite tea from the kitchen pantry, opening the door to find a young girl hanging by her neck from the ceiling. You scream in shock, falling to the ground in terror. But you quickly recognize the coal-black hair and ruby eyes.

"God damn it, Alucard! I nearly pissed myself!"

He giggles wholeheartedly from the makeshift noose, before you grab the tea bags and slam the door in his face.

You stay on guard after that, constantly on edge for the rest of the evening.

Catching onto his game, you consistently point him out from every nook and cranny you know he frequents, raining on his parade before he can get the jump on you again.

By the time you are getting ready for bead, you think he's finally given up, but then you feel the mattress and sheets shift.

"Don't even try it, Alucard. I know you're there," you grumble, just wanting some shut-eye.

But then you feel two strong hands grip your shoulders, and long legs barricade against your hips, pinning you down on the mattress.

"But why end the fun when the night is still young, my love?" a deep and sultry accented voice whispers in your ear. You look up to see the unmistakable face of Vlad staring you down, the best 'do me' look shimmering in his lustful gaze. He's stripped down to his underclothes, wearing a loose peasant shirt that gives you a welcome view of his hairy, muscular chest.

"Always keen on the element of surprise, eh Drac?" you hum.

"And there are many more surprises to come," he chuckles, before leaning down and kissing you, beginning what would turn out to be a very long night for you both <3

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #hellsing alucard #alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x reader

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fintan-pyren · 22 days

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Sometimes, life is busy. You shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying a good book, but who has the time to read the same words over and over again?

For your enjoyment and convenience, I have removed all duplicate words from the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book.

blurry fractured memories swam through sophie’s mind but she couldn’t piece them together tried opening her eyes and found only darkness something rough pressed against wrists ankles refusing to let move a wave of cold rushed as the horrifying realization dawned was hostage cloth across lips stifled cry for help sedative’s sweet aroma stung nose when inhaled making head spin were they going kill would black swan really destroy their own creation what point project moonlark then everblaze drug lulled toward dreamless oblivion fought back clinging one memory that could shine tiny spot light in thick inky haze pair beautiful aquamarine fitz’s first friend new life ever maybe if hadn’t noticed him day museum none this have happened no knew it’d been too late even white fires already burning curving city filling sky with sticky smoke spark before blaze miss foster mr sweeney’s nasal voice cut blaring music he yanked earbuds out by cords you decided you’re smart pay attention information sophie forced open not wince bright fluorescents reflected off vivid blue walls amplifying throbbing headache hiding sweeney mumbled shrinking under glares now staring classmates pulled shoulder-length blond hair around face wishing hide behind it exactly kind went way avoid why wore dull colors lurked blocked other kids who at least foot taller than survive twelve-year-old high school senior perhaps can explain listening your ipod instead following along held up like evidence crime though probably he’d dragged class natural history balboa park assuming his students be excited about all-day field trip didn’t seem realize unless giant dinosaur replicas came started eating people cared tugged loose eyelash nervous habit stared feet there make understand needed cancel noise hear chatter from dozens tourists echoed fossil-lined splashed cavernous room mental voices real problem scattered disconnected pieces thoughts broadcast straight into brain being hundreds tvs different shows same time sliced consciousness leaving sharp pains wake freak secret burden since fell hit five years old she’d blocking ignoring nothing helped never tell anyone wouldn’t you’ve above lecture don’t give asked pointed enormous orange duckbill center how lambeosaurus differs dinosaurs we’ve studied repressed sigh flashed an image card front display glanced entered photographic recorded every detail recited facts twisted scowl classmates’ grow increasingly sour weren’t fans resident child prodigy called curvebuster finished answer grumbled sounded know-it-all stalked exhibit next over follow thin separating two rooms block muffled grabbed little relief nice job superfreak garwin chang boy wearing t-shirt said i’m gonna fart sneered shoved past join they’ll write another article child teaches lame-o-saurus still bitter yale had offered full scholarship rejection letter arrived few weeks allowed go parents much pressure young end discussion so attending closer smaller san diego college year fact some annoying reporter newsworthy enough post local paper chooses ivy league complete photo freaked wasn’t strong word more half rules unnecessary front-page articles pretty worst nightmare they’d newspaper complain editor seemed unhappy story run place on arsonist terrorizing trying figure mistake bizarre white-hot flames smelled burnt sugar took priority everything especially unimportant girl most ignore or used caught sight tall dark-haired reading yesterday’s embarrassing black-and-white looked seen particular shade teal smooth sea glass beach glittered flickered expression gaze disappointment decide shrugged leaning closed distance between smile belonged movie screen heart did weird fluttery thing is pointing picture nodded feeling tongue-tied fifteen far cutest talking i thought squinted brown uh yeah sure say reason felt conversation accent british somehow crisper which bothered know are suck words soon left mouth course boys cute made mushy perfect returned told hulking greenish standing albertosaurus all its lizardesque glory me do think that’s it’s absurd

isn’t see saw small t rex: big teeth ridiculously short arms fine laughed i’ll get meet turned leave just classes kindergartners barreled fossil crushing screaming knock step whole realm pain kids’ stinging high-pitched needles many once angry porcupine attacking hands darted rubbing temples ease stabbings skull remembered alone reaction locked forehead pained imagined seconds hushed blood drain mean created plenty racket shrieks squeals giggles plus sixty individual chattering away gasped solved earlier everyone boy’s distinct accented speaking totally completely silent possible whispered widened moved whisper telepath flinched skin itch gave can’t believe backed exit reveal total stranger okay holding sort wild animal calm afraid froze my name’s fitz added stepping name searching sign part joke joking thinking wobbled spent seven find someone else world tilted sideways steady here looking twelve we better question: want air jerked bolted door stumbling shaky legs rhythm sucked breaths ran down stairs burned lungs bits ash flew ignored wanted space strange come shouted picked pace raced courtyard base steps wide fountain grassy knolls sidewalk got inside because poor quality footsteps gaining wait pouring energy sprint fighting urge glance shoulder halfway crosswalk sound screeching tires reminded both ways terrified driver struggling stop car plowed right die second blur swerved missing inches jumped curb sideswiped streetlight heavy steel lantern cracked plummeted instincts hand shot pulling strength somewhere deep gut pushing fingertips force collide falling gripping extension arm dust settled floated feel weighed ton put familiar warned bringing trance shrieked dropped without hurtled watch yanking split crashed ground impact knocked tumbled body broke fall landed chest stretched flurry questions swirling coherent idea sat replaying sense need witnessed miracle tighten panic let’s overwhelmed plan resist street reached intersection north zoo where crowd during firestorm running missed hearing changed terrifying scenarios involved government agents throwing dark vans experiments watched road ready bolt anything suspicious zoo’s massive parking lot relaxed outside milling cars happen witnesses slowed walk breath promise sincere easier opened hesitated supposed am trust won’t considered father sent specific age observe report always talk frowned disappointed himself does means expected threw what’s wrong touched eyelids suddenly selfconscious figured again awe us stopped whoa hang ‘one us’ frowning spotted fanny-pack-wearing within earshot deserted corner ducking green minivan there’s easy we’re human stunned speak hysterical laugh escaped repeated shaking riiiiiight insane trusting kicked stomped telling truth minute last listen plea humans vanished gone reeling leaned argued taking clear set pole minutes ago almost three managed finally saying alien erupted laugher cheeks grew hot also relieved compose elf hung foreign object belong visions tights pointy ears danced giggling expect guess stick wavy spikes rock star good crazy agreed refused serious frodo ring save middle-earth toys hid corners showed oh ought folded slender silver wand intricate carvings etched sides tip round crystal sparkled sunlight magic asking rolled actually pathfinder spun latch top dangerous you’ll faded depends take concentrate matter happens proof prove whisk land curious harm someone’s willed palms sweat fingers laced stupid tingled everywhere scanning warning look scowled bit tongue concentrated racing seriously become those silly girls counted raising facet beam refracted tightened grip forward warm tingling million feathers swelling underneath tickling giggle melted goo keeping oozing blanket warmth wrapped faster blink eye might squeaked stood edge glassy river lined impossibly trees fanning emerald leaves among puffy clouds row castles walt disney throw rocks kingdom golden path led sprawling elaborate domed buildings built brick-size jewels each structure color snowcapped mountains surrounded lush valley crisp cool

cinnamon chocolate sunshine places exist less appear forgotten released realized hard squeezing unable castle towers oddly our capital call eternalia heard shangri-la lost cities you’d stories rarely ridiculous things elves burst quiet gentle breeze brushing soft murmur traffic hammering unspoken very silence rising tiptoes view streets ghost town building towered others stones emeralds banner flying tribunal progress everyone’s watching proceedings council basically royalty holds broken law they’re deal laws well shook wrap cringing question funniest glared funny regained control try cling remaining strands sanity sun casting ray onto leaping hitched ride headed impossible infinite travel haven’t theory relativity stumped dumbest i’ve albert einstein huh dumb argue confident unnerving harder waited feather sensation dryer scattering directions until rubber band later shivering ocean whipping glowed carved moonlight failed passed bring herself true science book read confused observed ‘hey learned smug grin best minds begin comprehend complexities reality elves’ ahead slowest trump proper education shoulders sagged sank four scenery blurred whether tears entire lie nudged hey fault believed taught i’d done works bells chimed large gateway floor-length velvet capes draped tunics emerged followed creatures marching military formation rocky pants muscles prominently flat noses coarse gray pleated folds armadillo goblins signed treaty hating trembling dressed forbidden lumenaria worlds gnomes dwarves ogres trolls mentioning focused motioned farther squatting betrayed ancient councillors intelligent rule planning war ancients violence disappeared forbid any contact devices working defend race famine problems chilled frigid wind licking who’d known must’ve after eventually evolved myths simple yes peeked glowing crucial identity clicked spinning thousand loud clang gate stepped shadows sleek cobalt home jolted mom bus bland boring stole incredible blinding swept smoky fresh surprised recognized plain square houses narrow tree-lined house ask lived coughed handle putting pollutes planet these aren’t normal chemical smells usually wildfires smell barbecue melting cotton candy burn rain arsonists admitted pocket hoping notice dad wants knows neither important meant mystery he’s happy careful please shown today thank act family doesn’t suspect squared courage telepaths special ability rarer ones thirteen six months corrected liking youngest manifest start reverberated scanned positive waking hospital moment forget hooked kinds machines hovering shouting barely separate hold happening group adults haunted worry brows narrowed doing extra private keep wall weak hated bossed answering concerned action worked imagining stretching shadow mine blurted pale process hardest worries live fumbled answers long trouble knees link amazing will tomorrow panicked battered cluttered living phone she’s receiver having reeled daggers calling wandering worried police sorry stammered convincing horrible liar scared mom’s anger concern nervously curly guy realizing lies based freaking walked trolley train teacher guard ugh complained closing adult rubbed wrinkle appeared stressed upset safe stand weirdo understood dangers teased tormented bullied deflate wish trailed close rest sister slipped pin painful tight hug welcome honey dinner ten amy upstairs kitchen unease twist stomach worn linoleum pastel tacky knickknacks ordinary glittering kissed cheek shabby briefcase table how’s soybean wink baby apparently pronouncing thousands times lid simmering pots garlic cream filled handed silverware turn crackin’ scooted plopped usual chair nine role mastered opposite lower average grades popularity sisters wondered definitely powers lowered breathing: inhale exhale repeat care nickname dizzy must lay should eat skipping acting fettuccine night favorite rich sauce sudden nausea tug eyelashes chewed bite swallow fork official thanks great homework sprinted bed hiss shattered marty pounding fluffy cat sitting tail slunk settling lap marty’s purring

confront downstairs settle explained blonde chubby brunette screamed throbbed deeper ripped apart blinked related change lots adopted poked brought e l fudges plate cookies milk getting sick palm fever tired cookie stumbled routine crawled blankets wrapping pillow dreams kissing tucked tradition breathe ella yep elephant stuffed sleep tonight um guys hugged tighter hours labor endured switched birth daughter doubt wondering anymore dreamed keebler perfected recipes liked oreos drown vat fudge woke overrated morning quick shower jeans shirt buttery yellow stripes item closet self-conscious wear gold flecks admit clipped toyed lip gloss snuck check crept yard blinking stuck contained next-door neighbor perch middle lawn forkle rearranging garden tableaux nosy checking effect beady bored hers loved sentences complaining 911 obligated gnome fraction inch gives headaches yapping interrupted ball fur streaked barking spandex jogging shorts chased grabbing dog leash clumsy lunge kneeled stroking wild-eyed panting creature drew growled strained mad sister’s hates displaying several halfmoon wounds bleeding scar suppose willing carry blocks seems winked piercing certainly yelled jogger guy’s louder chaos wonder grab drag should’ve trick react stopping tracks side man straightened height quite intimidating ordered glowered promised snorted grumbling moving explaining whenever appearance waiting incident eyewitnesses frustrating confusing bell rang lurking scream demanded loudly heads bad flashing cocky rush blush unanswered tries creepy snatch slow replayed scene remember growling forkle’s quietly quieter we’ll we’d eyeing suspected impending mischief leap english ditch yesterday strangle pull disappearing fail willingly use telepathy brushed whispering pushed further test tested permission assignment frustrated matters invading offense scrunch nod movement nearby oak drowned could’ve sworn jogger’s campus gestured tree either imagine adjusted shouldn’t anyway who’s committee sidelong heat breaking automatically furious enjoyed caused determines grinned future shield surveyed surroundings metal nearly everglen leading doors absorbs directly likes privacy stressful doubted king kong faint click swung inward striking clearing growing midnight cape fastened clasp diamond-encrusted wings lean vibrant resemblance alden introduced bow curtsy shake greet shy pleasure prominent kidding unusual flush smiled embarrassed fire alden’s injury muttered son shared kidnapping considering such might’ve paranoid has touch rude assure love kidnapper searched reassure kindness agree placed gently jacket ticked indeed fascinating sounding triumphant perfectly specifically nexus forgot covered dug cuff coat clamped bracelet wrist twisting fit snug comfortable accessory single jewel rectangle symbols letters spelled gibberish odd decorate finality safety precaution break particles carried concentration circumstances bare early fools overestimate skills fade cautious answered lose yourself able fully reform pulls forever goose bumps dimple cleared throat prefer reproving send mission collect long-lost guests wiped blooming red pink purple rainbow perfume flowers dizzying testing qualify foxfire paused fungus insulted prestigious academy named represents glow darkened comes ‘fungus’ strongest talent kiss goodbye excuse proud attend accomplishment earliest levels develops abilities continue studies elvin sneak work knowingly chills mixed night’s troubling revelation sickening councillor bronte difficult impress feels upbringing lack disqualify surprises existed miffed votes squat brown-skinned huge tended fairy tale plants slantways shuffled carrying basket twinkling fruit guessing pictured men hats statues servants stare choose safer gardens enjoy privileged taste gnomish produce lunch treat dig slimy tubers slugs hoped menu peeled meadow elegant manor entirely intricately numerous turrets gables rose tower resembled lighthouse braided foyer prism widest hallway fountains spouted streams colored water hall dead-ended encrusted jeweled mosaic

diamond unicorns amethyst spoke wealth squeezed formal dining sheer silk curtains drawing chandelier waterfall shimmering crystals platters fancy goblets figures jewel-encrusted circlets plush thronelike chairs surrounding curtsied necks clasps keys horribly underdressed fabrics except disguise kenric oralie football player toothy princess rosy ringlets met smallest cropped features finger pairs floor laughter squirmed joined pleased shape it’ll transformed noticing autorepeat: scooting oralie’s one’s died yet hurt immortal trace sorrow bodies aging reach adulthood wrinkles belongs yourselves guest uncovered grimace strips glop goop tasted juiciest cheeseburger stuff mashed carnissa root umber leaf tastes chicken animals tone ate toxic waste squirming grimaced vegetarians horror vegetables cheeseburgers tells swallowed mouthful thud discussing openly respond kenric’s jaws dry remembering warnings stay begun eight pass mentioned learn relax bronte’s icy gust common announced jaw flushing chagrined incredulous impenetrable key sentence ‘almost breached guilt conscience sounds infallible thinks likely exceptionally lift weight telekinesis recovering embarrassment shrank goblet accident raised lifting invisible scoffed unimpressed limitations unlike physical confidence clue giving blew pretending imaginary extend sharper worth saucers applauded excellent praise couple glasses determined stronger ounce core empty collective gasp including breathed celebrate cramped strain knocking thunderous collision open-mouthed shock hollered sealed clapped language guys’ enlightened leaped instinctive interesting babbling teasing noisy gripped ‘soybean’ mispronouncing blushed chuckled beside dusting waved insisted sighed suldreen stretch line rare species bird puzzle solve uncomfortable coincidence convince decision barked shoving moonlarks vote otherwise fight favor final fragile lovely empath emotions extended grasped delicate fear confusion sincerity describe azure settles revisited till adjust invoke demand probe planned arranged quinlin busy decipher fun training looks iffy ‘bothered’ dad’s reluctant emptiness exploded choked saving colder implications ditched stall punishment atlantis nowhere patch white-capped waves signs seagulls screech poop hardly continent tide pool triangular slip slick shoes match gown begged status noble members nobility offices empire waist beaded neckline dress costume seeing clothes: tunic embroidery edges pockets sewn sleeves exact size sit boots completed thankfully knowing biana comparison changing subject ledge engineered catastrophe compartment revealing bottles label bottle whirlpool uncorked flung blast whipped faces roar churning ladies suggested worse gulped maelstrom beneath salty sprayed jump push count dignity drowning flailing idiot formed tunnel dipping weaving craziest waterslide starting launched vortex sponge licked toe pack kittens minus kitten sprang cushion smoothed wet incoming rocketed slightly squishy packed sand gleaming metropolis dome beyond soared skyline bathing radiating spires network canals interconnected arched bridges pictures venice modern clean despite bottom underwater muted hum background seashell ear build stores power precisely amount changes plated reflect firelight illuminate sink wandered shops renaissance fair women’s gowns shifted advertised two-for-one specials bottled lightning fast approval spyball applications strolled hybrid chicken-lizard invented main canal hailed carriages floating almond-shaped boat rows high-backed benches elbow-length steered bench reins skimming surface eight-foot-long scorpion deadly pincers reared curled sting eurypterid stroked shiny shell eurypterid’s slice emitting low hissing petted harmless carriage quinlin’s yours fiber mutant insect doom probed gritted pressing hideous sonden’s office thrashed heebie-jeebies commute while secure needs protection file highly classified business district windows tracing bearing names treasury registry interspeciesial services unreadable random strings runes nonsense writing

alphabet clueless chin jumble nah affected gap kid option country tests dropping member broad kelp ornamentation precise read: sonden: chief mentalist cube swiped elbow ping assurances humiliating bypassed receptionist dim damp stone desk dark-skinned chin-length seat ceremony unique understatement squirm handing lick dna unsanitary tiniest hologram center: rotating unearthly breathing prentice sacrificed double helixes sacrifice reasons fears hundred seventy-eight murmured began pacing invaded she’ll greatest keeper older midstep record share trained charge protecting currently hidden karaoke game sing off-key notes clearly eavesdropping strip slid winding stairway climbed oval footage brush projected chill aerial southern california lines circle area images deepened valleys ruled reflections note interrupting communicate waving warn turning overreacting glancing shuddered desperate kidnapper’s threatened easily implied nameless faceless entity quickly threatening authorities would’ve shivered accelerant chemicals leads lighting spilling oil blowing investigate council’s position here: takes visit babysitter decent equally spying steam secrecy existence discovered hoax search updated slight bypassing distracted evillooking matches keepers lagoon glint shimmery dunes lake west shore statue topped hollow iridescent film shimmered loop apparatus resemble bubble lifted clung shrieking levitate forming touching bubble’s rumble coming geyser shoot eleven crash below bobbed where’s scary pure joy popped whisked glaring gates flash strode olive contrast youth shone nerve summoning personal shorter intimidated difference sooner exiled clench fists backward tiergan aware opinion summoned convinced tiergan’s fierce crumbled crossing expert inventory widening whatever foxfire’s newest mentor puppy officially weirding becomes provide retired given persuaded return resentment mixture surprise hone assistance reasonable restrictions pretend opportunity silencing bet terrible mood mumbling mostly irresponsible manage choice benefit stares notify dame alina returning kept bruise meantime session listed remedial schedule lessons dummies correct assumption warmed tuesday brilliant panel everglen’s grounds sessions study student subjects one-on-one nerves one-onone succeed mention level grade relearning self-doubt heavier fragmented disappear explanation aside pleasant dis arguing overstuffed armchairs woman squealed snickered wife della pinched gesturing dear vanishers smiling musical hint della’s beauty tossed pursed heart-shaped parents’ combined gangly troll interceded borrow errands frumpy files requested denied request approve grady edaline case torn radiant parcels strobe unwrapped packages clasped cord neck choker pendant elf-y anytime fund’s activated fund register money standard dollars lusters laughing luster dollar crinkled ew insult afford differently limited seventy eighty makes sad curved window overlooking silvery floor-to-ceiling aquarium wingback facing piled books scrolls anxiety remind stacks newspapers circled crossed news removed drawer theories irritation super stuttered discuss faced solution allow ours they’ve effective immediately too-simple accept kick constant discovery longer unbearable loneliness friends grasping overwhelm areas access severely restricted dead deciding gravestones became vivid: grave tearstained draw suffer struck complicated relocated jobs erase tear obvious believing shutting function erased armchair scrubbed forbade sob occurred risking twenty alert plans clothes sees wiping focus bent unshed horrors cringed buried trembled bouncing busted eavesdrop grounded hugging worrying pouted pettiness bratty obnoxious pain-in-the-butt embrace struggles play daughters mouths senses hook hurry daze rememorize room: dusty available quilt mother tripped furry crouching releasing pathetic meow disk sleeping gas release drugging physically ill backpack slung giggled elizabeth clutching anywhere couch fingered ordering thirty crumpled burying recognize crouched smearing drool snot drugged sobs

overcame jerk washers bags regret bear slept finish hawaiian family’s limp determination taken fourteen cried assured stranglehold haunting gets hope personally oversee relocation flared wrung guardians title selected enthusiasm strangers elwin’s blue-crystaled temptation shiver raked bones orphan conservatory lead backyard security choosing saved ache suffering gift raise ended abandoned wipe elwin physician medical hate doctors brave regular nightmares brief stays struggled dragging direction drop free implying biana’s glare escape punch bathed gigantic glued cushioned cot syringe goes fidget spectacles scientist snapped painless orb flasher manipulate skilled orem vacker show eclipse biggest celebrations traditions damage permanent tensed food chance innocent cells dashing depending orbs squinting lenses stunningly lit dramatic expecting toxins research rifled satchel vials liquids major detox braced medicine syrups nectar unknown fruits tingly drink youth legends enzymes essential health refreshing downed contents gulp drank medicines list follow-up checkup whistled sometimes heated lame stinky stegosaurus shame horrified production wimp doctor phobia jumping needle strap bunch shots allergic how’d concrete nine-one-one unconscious genes kicking trigger bedroom canopied chandeliers room’s gotten deserve ruined chanting mantra shut pajamas tuck asleep belonging alive twenty-five catch breakfast clock shop furniture detoxes materializing clutched ghostly exotic heartbreaker fitted glamorous shopping explosion behold wardrobe outfits extras pick beat-up sparkly casual packing leaked days unpack hungry knotted sadly dampened preserve havenfield exciting jolie deny loss wonderful booming fenced-in pastures spread scrambled versions rehabilitation centers sanctuary protected trap nessie artist endangered gorillas lions mammoths extinct thriving herd woolly colonies saber-toothed tigers slack exists rob qualities provides thrive feeding hunt diet steep cliffs caves flower-lined using ropes lasso lizard neon beast protest drama queen husky male commanded beast’s heave feat twice snaarrll bucked guardian lunged tangled writhed losing balance verdi tyrannosaurus comments meeting jaculus winged serpent feeds support contain bloodsucking snake claws snout tremble lowering fangs glinted slobber motioning glimpse dinosaur-riding chiseled feather-covered james bond robin hood balding relate handsome feathery banged pet rub rex’s stayed docile unblinking separated verdi’s wound plugged slime death rot tuna fish combination kelpie dung bites jar swear edaline’s grady’s wary compared palatial estate mansion standards columns cupola roof entryway central upper floors cascaded ceiling wispy fabric turquoise amber curls similar circles fluff presentable rex picking playing rodeo cowboy nope wash staircase sadness lingered tea mallowmelt insist gooey cake fresh-baked chip soaked ice frosting butterscotch dripping hasty slices served nook grazing linens painted china homesick woken lushberry juice pop possessed conjurer form teleporting objects coolest unfortunately scraggly slurps burps letting friend’s ached grieve fished imparter simply strangled pounded reassuring deafening third star-shaped dangled glittery weaved carpet scent canopy occupied dressing bookshelves brightly volumes bathroom bathtub swimming biting awesome assumed jolie’s tour awkward delicious soupy pizza unpacking wrinkled scrapbook wherever welled remnants dried sixteen sunrise streaks blending mirror darken awake finishing hovered doorway interrupt riser shades clap bruises conjured bowl spoon banana bread tempted impose sloppy handwriting upside symbol corner: bird’s beak tickled babble scare extremely documents cipher moisture particularly believable prescribed drawn eager fidgeting ruffles simplest bought hi kesler groaned island mysterium identical mold vendors spices sweets buzzed crowded sidewalks working-class social rank ‘talent simpler correspondingly unfair born lesser lives type designed village avoiding whispers ruewen pretended different

store crooked nursery rhyme burps: merry apothecary belched maze shelves pills laboratory beakers bubbling burners rainbow-colored lab skinny tousled strawberry periwinkle blob tubes add amarallitine dex tongs vial experiment poured beaker sparked plume dirty gag concoction exclaimed hello ‘hello impersonation sludge eda scrap sheet kesler’s brother-in-law nephew practically monday al freaks dimples burped beanpole hooded cloak vika annoyance handiwork written girl’s bald scalp meanwhile stina ’cause twitched battling sell solutions sasquatch dent bony appendages children throttle hairoids stock week wailed ogre wicked misses responsible friendly rage here’s spat helping customers potent hat flinch useless buy countered retort stina’s oooh slammed fist timkin heks helps situation traditional absolutely brings stuffy nobles happier grinning mess tweak supplies armful worktable sneaky beard dex’s evil mortar pestle teach tingle attempt fifty-seven solo property collapse practiced checked displayed sliver percent chose he’ll hawk mentors monitor weakness expelled pushes transferred exillium swallowing bile mounting attack messy juline riveted gossip interruption interest hilarious bookshelf mounted cover camera summer flipping pages naked mouse suit disneyland dizznee photos honestly movies outlets flipped technology solar powered rifling sir conley’s luck lady galvin highest rate rig calming flooded seventeen gadgets chimes arrive uniform skirt leggings shirt-vest-cape combo laceup jerkin long-sleeved slacks waist-length superhero captain blueberry rescue meaning order demonstrate rid wimpy halcyon mastodons mascot birds storm mastodon ceremonies costumes glad idiots appealing crest triangle heart: scarlet eagle soaring talons chemistry equipment theirs adopting adoption adopt temporary enrollment manticore themselves parties dies span cope calmed orphans wylie whose recover connection blames wylie’s hanging leapmaster 500 lucky authorized 250 tons rotated five-story pyramid sharply angled u stained seventh amphitheater extensive fields grass hopelessly prodigies uniforms building’s finding ducked starts orientation principal reads announcements attendance collar track peal close-up stunning porcelain caramel-colored foremost whoever reekrod weekend mark punished fullest extent threat dangle continued detect ah spotlight hissed viper’s nest ssssssophie hole crawl concludes today’s nearest exception divided wing banners bore midflight halls quad throughout sparkling sapphire chatted doorways lining atrium spectacle creating marked rune locker mirrored lock uses gross faculty picks flavors pepper sneeze croak yelped stench rotten eggs dash diaper muskog wheezy snicker whirled towering mass frizzy cackling hags stalking hairs shave earth serum friday retorted raven swishing behavior phasers ashamed apologize obviously spend detention alexine stinks beet minions kinda frog fumes catching jensi rapid-fire speech talked buckets redder instructed honest ‘human girl’ ‘sophie’ whim elementalism pride backtracked twists turns drops warped wooden session’s zapped ‘zapped’ thunderclap eighteen tray electrocuted quiver conley hitting fluted botched sending tornado tornadoes mastering elements entering foods series stalls court mall recognizable eaten tables cafeteria whom discourage joining verge perceptible message clear: focusing bigger jensi’s acne braces fairly slicked greasy ponytails drooled setting bang c’mon dude unison ‘e’ duh drooly volunteered singed universe daunting exaggerated messing ‘dude’ killing explode cough pixielike rescuing tossing petite balled braids suicide overeager marella mare nicknames obeyed enemies honored pucker licorice lemon fan prettypants rather grumpy brat brother’s dreamy willpower copying sip looped defending dizznees triplets says ‘bad match’ genetically incompatible inferior aunt uncle superstrange celebrities famous vackers superimportant marella’s sympathy grandma heartbroken helpless veins hopeless cases guarantee scooping mammoth shudder awful afternoon feared astronomical

learning astin whispery complex maps planetarium effortless excelled hour survived approaching dragon hateful invited feelings letters: extinguished stuffing fill animosity deck ‘nice uncanny royal highness bothers remembers talented ‘deck beaming nineteen thursday disaster goal sandwiched colosseum pe vanity near door: sneakers ponytail owned ship slap reply lasted compare redek squish may fool stops idle threats grouped twos tromps manifested fifty-fifty manifesting mysterious remark required variable reign terror ‘everyone’ impressive jolt supervise caton titan god informed channeling supereasy channel parts body: heights speeds normally unimpressive attempts threes bumped defense appetite startled spaceship unremarkable studying superintently snapping scraping probing concept unsettling establish forcing eighty-seven puckered brow assume cheerful scraped intended drained steadying suggest ethics attached meganeura exercise annoy fidgeted cocked wanna buzzing dived vulture-size dragonflies patted freaky-looking bug blown gargantuan proportions creepiest disco balls grown monster enclosure phys ed intense emergency weirdest part: proven trustworthy receive assignments lectured responsibility detecting discover elite avoided mesmer nauseated wow sheesh inflicting curiosity won causes dara lecture: pyramids tidal army hairy hollowing himalayas strangest mumble creeped exile interested dying supertalented fundamental guilty underground eternity ruin fluke churned abandoning illegal washer alter dump brother secluded sorted reminding effort flavored flumes spritzed shove disturbing failing smirked alchemy pupil encouraging cracking melody ominous ingredients trophies gilded items pointy-toed suspiciously midas milky liquid dancing rushing rustle red-brown updo hunter silky decorated patterns swished slightest alkahest universal solvent stored itself dissolves wood flesh taxes substance alchemist wise teaching masters tincture poultice basic serums yellowed box flask jars iron transmuting metals recipe formula labeled instructions fiddled rechecked mistakes plunged whip fizzed rumbled jelly galvin’s exquisite dissolved luxurious damaged salvage welt healing ma’am murder retrieve afterward muttering incompetence flunk sprawled hallways stark ditching keefe gulon disheveled untucked popular belva crush blame 90 certain paid accidentally cue epic alina’s ugly crying treated whiter phobia consisted rooms: treatment beds brewing physician’s paperwork slinky scurried bullhorn demented ferret banshee adorable fellow dramatically wanting seize mmm-hmm acid mimed effects destroyed salve measured whap wash present laughs clarification confirming twenty-one embellished version destruction joked bottling anwen multispeciesial 324 faxon metaphysics complimented requests brown-eye create overnight granted incredibly challenging explosions occurrence unlearn lifetime knowledge levitating rainbows constantly messed highlight skill effortlessly amazed unwanted transmit else’s psychic photograph needing patient plague suspicion snotty maruca i-hate-sophiefoster club reaching growl jealous prettiest bedlam subdue chasing rabbits antlers swinging trunk lump verminion pen boosted mammoth’s trumpeted earthshaking squeal ringing mound timid twig hiiiissssssssssss uncurled rodent bulging hamsters rottweiler-size hamsterzilla trample japanese hamster cooed snaarrrlll impressed chase steer dashed catches fifty stupidest clod mud nailed grooowwwwllll fatal flaw pinned grunted press snarling squeeze verminion’s unlocked assortment spewed whined pile gloves shed trade trudged oversize squirrels rats identify burlap sack quivering snarl steeled shriek batlike heaved wool scratches leg outbuildings carefully organized veterinarian’s laid sterile spreading limbs smeared eyedropper dripped creature’s rewarded squeaky rumbling crackly purr smiles cage barrel soapy chain-sawesque snores vibrating brattail tuber sausage imp guessed six-inch venomous stings snoring vicious describing tame yetis outnumbered conked chipper iggy strand swell

generous hugs touches gestures glistened dubious trails twenty-two sharing congested warthog roommate snuggly sleepless spoil caring ultimate splotching championship sacks cheered sympathetic secretly celebrating partnered naturally teamed splotcher splattered loses winners person wins marks smugly win splotch splat deserved colorful prize contest pardon hopes wonderboy gagging rounds beat opponent knots backing aim ow raw telekinetic flushed compliment disqualifies pumped victory hotter cheering opponents experience duel beginner’s talents mighty competition grumblings battle odds experienced evidently four: sixes trella dempsey paired hopeful muster bested winner fluttered appears competitors betraying butt preference keefe’s chant ladies’ float clenched adrenaline surged audience back-up splotches rebound phenomenon weightless collided simultaneous fate collapsed twenty-three placing compress wincing muscle injured whermiwhahapped worse: laying banshees mortal danger stirred lucid winced stiff glands zinged collected rebounded bounce specialized hammered controls actual mix matched draining practice evenly awfully sidelines wobbling auditorium applause teensy annoyed copied blushing elbowing ribs tie protested declared excused lesson rejoin splotchers acted delivered p congratulations confirm bath lathering bathers soggy instinctively besides creased drive twenty-four meter one-third younger that’d wonderboy’s precious midterms score seventy-five recommend nissa tutoring consider tutor projection gagged flavor yell daily tore prattle chewy caramel peanut butter pouch cracker jack horse mane prattles’ unicorn pins collection examined digital 122 185 number eighty-five super-rare bitterness vaguely compute unexpected development century too-little-too-late branch other’s replaced beeline simultaneously sniff aw stuck-up snob wasted invite humiliate walking ambush capable teeniest details clanged cricket chirped embroidered satin sash wringing exhaled seeming makeovers wrestling polite fortunately braid flutter dirt pitter-patter eh sayin’ shooting quest grateful team jealousy guarded raid questers tagged sentry tabs isolate general nail targets listened softer instantly presence tremendous connected forest thundered vision racked credible crashing bushes partner deceive insists hasn’t secrets toes staying chain apologizing visitors sulking funk snipe wagged there’ve weekly jokes havenfield’s defied exams panicking passing guide narrowing shipped exam brass copper transmutations ideas challenges thwarted spilled gashrooms reek pored frozen cause shattering cheated accomplished cheat ideal dreading twenty-six tri-angular apex streamed pane angle reflection examining confessed forgave neutral violated ethical regulations expulsion suggesting argument ruling obey flourish bother violating reporting stifle closely icily respect authority advises wedding flapped nor pointless cheating tolerated huffed regrets confess serve minimum assigning becoming theme slipping unnoticed what’d gloomy atmosphere desks thumbs-up siren song appreciation art nature clapping earsplittingly shrill whine whale nails chalkboard toddler uncover broadening horizons claiming repentant company brand torture ballroom belva’s sirens dances edwardian claimed valin ponytailed promenade dancers valin’s sweaty chime stars shined brighter spit wickedly slobbery octaves fanned hmm irritated flattered scored points empathy forked smirk ironing holes stack detained increased practicing leaps eyebrow empaths powerful mundane purification vein easiest transmutation lockers traded twenty-seven banging annoyingly caps disqualified chorus groans nonstop cap smurf amalgam telepathic integrity wrote essay betrayal over debate automatic 100 last-minute mentally repeating tips negative vibes stress ethic claim fame skipped skip supportive doubting brag mercifully stalled magenta berries rusty discipline chosen purify ruckleberries fifty-five nasty impurities elderly human’s alchemists methods dive knife pierced berry dribbled pinky haggard glacial quarters

deducted mediocre performance forth whirlwind crack exhausted brutal slamming slumped that’ll public hooks presents spine cards schools hassle babysitters edged obstacle tugging stressing rigid suitable gifts jewelry charms charm twenty-eight unrecognizable streamers shrub toilet-papered tinsel confetti bubbles prizes popping appointment teal-wrapped package uglier hurrying plowing regain literally prying trademark smirks spoken sapphire-encrusted navy-blue intently hairstyle contrasted pristine infamous deflated wilted father’s oily insincerity resigned flame cassius lord performing unremarkably radiated apologies fos er disappointing scores fake critical said: creeps prize-filled prattles dwarf lollipop topple snappy comeback comment loser fails organize overflowing half-empty month misunderstanding shushed slim parcel chiming signaled parent-mentor conferences celebration feast unwrap snatching self ‘dear dance sometime vice president boyfriend rattled reader tease ribbon tapped gadget fingernail speaker thingies coloring dunno disbelief variety edible glosses speckled spider snapper plant fed spiders riddler writes riddle miniature violet thanked showing misty seventy-nine improvement range sensing tomato congratulated comfort sobbing partying included sneer party note: f snap k sugarplums boy-craziness necklace cuffs wristbands vanisher platter customs gelled perfection gym ornate immaculate alvar talks often rumpling fizzleberry wine juggling girlfriends hero beamed piddly quicksnuff emissaries tend conspiracy possibility myself pieced undivided swan’s curve pattern term replied active recently unauthorized investigation frustration twenty-nine alternate spending smelling clues accomplish consumed trapped counting resumed vacation finals received eighty-one eighty-three unacceptable prepared chorused poufy thrown towel drooped oven roasted frosters transmitting charts transmitted peed suffered rested cryokinetics freeze manipulating pyrokinesis mesmers inflictors monitored pyrokinetics inflict fire’s unpredictable truly forbidding pyrokinetic library surely three’s librarian banned archives libraries bust problem: section dire wolves peek promising bins mountain littered haphazardly spaces scan unrolled flip papers helpful lacy dulled childhood: strung lanyards dolls framed bone picture: breathtaking tragedy drinking leftover junk trunks piles unopened bin disturbed murky midterm roll scroll shelf sample starlight moonglade: fireflies flickering stellarscope upside-down spyglass view’s billions wad tag amaranthis memorized fourth lambentine bag spout wider scope knobs cluster dials stiffened lever thumb clinked rubini orroro azulejo cobretola indigeen scratching spectrum rearranged indigo zelenie isolated this’ll bluff scrounging elementine adjusting fidgety hummed shining teared welts frantic thirty-one blackish-purple blisters pot burns sprinkled powder adventure soaking numbs balm miserably regulate temperature palace crown nicer handful roots mutilating blades destroying bashing stubbornness reappeared ointment knelt furrowed fingertip rags longest hottest soapiest griffins discreetly boring-looking firecatching bode bundle solid downright incoherently darkly quintessence fifth element myth truest conditions blow metallic-toned bronze wildly flamed audible unmapped locations merit thirty-two platform thrones remotely procedure involving throne cushions tourmaline sturdy polished dotted onyx heard: clarette velia terik liora emery ramira darek noland zarina flicked mere evacuated three-thousand-year task undisclosed location trial salivating convict straighter dozen marched stationed bodyguards swordlike weapons belts fanfare blasted crowned amateurs seated sapphires shall world’s ungraceful consuming detector fuzzy lying endlessly jell-o hobbled astin’s honesty assigned emery’s argento auriferria pennisi merkariron styggis achromian slower plotting map cowering submit lists convenient judgment frightening hardened remained expressionless mediates telepathically consensus united aspirin unanimous

rise violates actions intentional accountable foster’s involvement addressing agreement millionth wished exchanged dimpling kiddo thirty-three banks sienna bark paintbrushes purfoliage palmae calls pures filter pollution freshest crispest tinge fuzzed hesitation observant instruction lurched sunset farthest councillors’ steadied emerald-encrusted circlet bowed pleasing honor beg refuse descryer response delightfully potential clamoring backfired speaks beginning optional 327 sensed crane sweeping peacock log dream softly regularly useful one-armed fiancé’s projecting vividly replace album dinner’s stroke retracted apology hurting tricks arches replica model thirty-four planted curl plotted page difficulties rivaled protect quieted los angeles hollywood trash conspicuous spider-man batman posed mann’s chinese theatre blended beams issued ‘forgot’ oblivious ourselves stubborn softened unwillingly seeped ‘got of’ ant pavement explore warring hurried consequences captured pleaded mercy prentice’s behalf oversaw shatters society metaphor insurgents rebellion kindest whatever’s decisions encouragement revelations ability-detecting exercises cornered superbusy insistent significant elf-ish onetime played envy tracked master tracking switch spots conspiracies investigating headway ignorance ever: permanently jarred conservation legitimate scientific principle nagging elixir nogginease limbium mineral supposedly resisted bike wheels giddy week’s supply unnaturally syrup absorb nauseating unfastening vest skin’s collapsing allergy dimmed cradling thirty-five fluttered chafed sandpaper wildhaired soothed sensations spectators cleaned vomit upright moaned allergies wits bullhorn’s trite soiled airtight vomiting swollen blotch-free humiliated undershirt noticeably absent dazzling alvar’s raptor disgusting decade spare injected steroids tied budge scolded showers heels crisis ushered deathly tough disasters blankly rests brothy soup elsewhere shadowy comforting yawn snuggled thirty-six squealing hundreds eagle-size pterodactyl somersaulted screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech stability rein speed momentum gained screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech torch pasture dispersed uncannily fried engulfed birdbath sparks jerking possess flareadon fire-resistant replay triggered animal’s cares octave higher killed resting flareadons volcanoes occur gildie strayed ‘flareadon female correcting wade debacle breaks wrestled socks shredded apparent vague emotion animals’ distances qualified lightened results defined iggy’s gildie’s paw tummy reward downy fury paled out-of-breath aura recoiling imperative vital violate risk humiliation fled her: cooperate freezing peered railing partial drifted bars errand thirty-seven mush nights begging blend processing forgetting tearing fluorescent locker: insider’s librarian’s timing shoe absolute librarians plastered sinking confirmed dog-ear chapter everblaze: unstoppable blind thirty-eight paper-strewn something’s ‘everblaze frissyn x stands detailed extinguish overruled excluded unheard indecision warred babies hatch extract unregistered code name: egg cast conventional purpose determine pregnant fertility posing implanted embryo manipulated outstanding retain discovering affects genetic anomaly renegades weapon ‘prodigy illegally forgiving messages suffocating choke word: controlled puppet issue triggers twilight proudly soothe facade crumble table: throaty fix drove wedge messenger delivering seal reseal rampaging limits chaise skimmed bead luminous nonluminous generated lumenite drilled clarify rip grubby paws riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip chunk possession skittered treasure retrieving tattered assess rug glue document accordance canceled thirty-nine heartbeat scrubbing choked-back muffle misery acknowledge gaping owe regardless charade obeying command churn yeti ricocheted ooooookaaaaaaay slinking acknowledging attempting library-appropriate slothlike triple-check echoing phew scrutiny shrug candleshade overhead clipping playlist jarring numbness bass mature speakers bands sarcastic tune swirled seeping cracks triumphed

tiptoed rustled creaked padding crawling lonely forgive forty cheer stricken envelope headline: claims victims scrawl announcement corridor stark-white gulps sneaking suggestions weigh resolve admirer flood applying replacement heal eased uncertainty brothers recent discoveries recording spy undetected textbook dreaded licensed pathfinders restriction threatens ‘everblaze’ accusation fintan pricked balefire fintan’s requires fuel supported cosmic ‘fire ignite conclusive example surveillance ruining depths former dealing approved overrule objection trusted phantom rebels snatched emissary citizen confidential duly noted digging forty-one partly imprisoned sorting reminders pity tension distant lately preparing prejudice megacrush cave commands successful method unwrapping names: connor kate natalie freeman apply permit huddled thinner echoes evacuee note’s unquenchable abandon supporter afar forty-two stashed drawers ‘you threaten chaperone global dumped significance supplied clothing resistant fly willful punish facets stagger hills screeched tying pried displays seals survival glinting corneas swoop thickest raspy coughs locate singeing shift current overcome coughing inferno ouch thrashing clouded watery beads capped treats paced treating scorched angrier contorted squatted pee severe scalding plunked sticky-sweet healthy grim balled-up yelling homes camped affairs mesmerized desperation launching steal dumping tenderness justified reacts offer unintelligible agreeing concerns forty-three relatively illness actress w-what admitting lifeless freaky dumber connections traitorous resisting grasp peace decency furball storm’s appropriate cliff reveling shard clatter soothing relishing pulverized smithereens boulder violent frightened irrational fallen possibly smothered meaty cloaked swooped sickeningly nostrils sedative cursed rallied scuffle scuttled captor circulation rasped viselike lolled rescued forty-four bonds staging unfortunate complication fog scrambling muddled funerals pendants vise sweetness blackness necessary loomed constricted heaving choking gruff hyperventilating suffocates coated hacking nods croaked relocate stolen grunt syllable drugs mist strapped bound shivers eerie breathy wheeze venom trail gumption predicament footfalls disposed disappearance guts throb ignorant cackle toy reserve widen contorting poison ple clarity struggle overwhelming happiness rocked jostling rescuer foggy occasionally elevator altitude delirium parted flimsy fumbling promises caress weary forty-five searing heightened awareness sensory overload barrage cigarette butts alley surveying hideout interrogation kidnappers scoured alexandre desperately operates anyone’s him: upcoming rounded apologized broom peeking roofs yards landmark eiffel gaped graceful paris france french indian saris currency exchange robbing bank machine atm watches account measures ‘make work’ cameras covering buttons alarm bills robbed technopath froster internet café sandwiches cheese once-living boxy computers navigated web browser googled number-one result pont iii bridge seine lanterns shopkeeper sped excitement decorations horizon lamp nexuses lasts mathematics applied dawn forty-six melder stun evening strolls cloaks leader obscurer bends distortion coil rope goons goon pathways underestimate wire enhanced wishful swirl severing rapid duck whizzed seizure dusted flailed gurgling blank forefinger crescent shaped jagged cowl stumble scarred heft frenzy hatred writhing strengthened pumping pulse heavyset figure’s hideouts options battering crushed nearing tug-of-war lessened allowing glorious drift fading surrendered mind’s imagination funeral weariness overtaking hazy snow labored conscious sparkle freedom sweep forty-seven brightness peaceful wove persisted appeal surge newfound pooled aches splintered clearer enveloped strawberry-blond-haired numbing sedated tingles luxuriating gulping wetness numb shhh sniffled recognizing propped girly seasons faltered proves meaningful floppy snickers emergencies conversations flirting scratch

blasts streaking injuries concentration’s cell half-drained gaunt fleeing canceling flitted nuzzling scratched there’d yawned lights forty-eight covers washed sandor goblin bodyguard inflictor paralysis semiconscious incapacitated dormant trauma latent polyglot languages advance interrogated sandor’s bunny seven-foot-tall buffed-out overtime blindfolded seared monitoring proved arrested custody awaiting deaths tragic innocence error motivate condemning madness reluctance single-handedly now’s crescent-shaped recalled epiphany overweight swells digest explains operative guarding subliminal advantage activate developed who’ll address database detectives arson reigned supreme wisest greater questioned decades measure influential amok globe rejected imprison devastated uprooted supporters initiative resign outspoken recruited activity satisfied handled poorly kidnapped prisoner resolved disposal stamped justice voiced revenge birthday birthdays indefinite spans thirteen-year-old crushes plots rebellions grown-ups understands teenager accepted bargain relented insisting uncertain responding arrange forty-nine pedestal charges bylaws sub-bylaws committed transgressions minor tortured regal express safely accused drafting addressed firmly murmurs debated arguments raging attitude disrespectful rebellious overlooked gratitude however static rulers experiences inappropriate assign ‘already served’ sang admission din bursting provisional basis due aforementioned cannot proceed suggestion issues seats smoothing occasion fancier signaling require records indicate provided remain appreciated despised gladly nicely dipped textbooks someday squash toughest earn deserves murderous successfully fingering justifiably displeasure smirking retake propose alternative state events revealed therefore practical prudent career prospects shifting internal logical volatile qualifies majority erupting directing registered cuddly earned oneon-one immediate tangle concluded gathered twirling nudging trades sidestepped congratulate surviving multiple tribunals swirls diamonds feminine unlatch decides woven triply journey

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