#[cries about this panel late at night

[starstruckkittensweets]

puppy love

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

My latest fixation, Chuuya with puppies! My precious boy deserves to be happy with a doggy of his own, so I decided to play into this little fantasy of mine (and his, probably). I'm planning on writing more parts to this lil series, I think it's helping me get out of my writing slump. Also parts of this fic are inspired by Shiloh, one of my all-time favorite books (so much nostalgia...) and a bit of a reference to that one puppy episode from Wan. And the panel I used for the banner is from the BSD manga (I think it's ch. 24) I hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of stray animals, Reader cries but it's in relief, mostly fluff, pet names (mostly "doll" but used only once in this part), the start of a slow burn perhaps? || words: 2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

He’s halfway through his usual trek home, muscles burning and head pounding from another successful night’s mission, when he realizes he has a shadow.

Chuuya doesn’t let up his pace; stay calm, don’t give anything away—but he has to wonder, who could be this stupid to try to follow a mafia executive? And they’re not being subtle about it either. Making no effort to conceal their breaths or their footsteps—

Wait a minute…that sounds too light to be footsteps…

He sucks in a breath and turns around to face the culprit. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, preparing for a fight—

“Woof!”

Staring up at him is perhaps one of the cutest fucking dogs he’s ever laid eyes on. (Not that he’s seen many dogs, but the point still stands.) Pointy ears, fuzzy orange fur, white paws and a belly that definitely looks too plump for a street dog.

He stares at it. The dog stares back, pink tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

“…Woof!”

It takes every ounce of strength he can muster not to melt right then and there on the sidewalk. A thousand squeals on the tip of his tongue, gloved hands itching to scratch under that fuzzy little chin of his.

Never mind any dog hair, fuck that. Who’s gonna try to turn their nose up at this little cutie?

Chuuya briefly scans the area—not a soul in sight, just him and his companion beneath the lamplights—before dropping to his knees. The dog paws at the ground, his curly tail swishing madly in the air.

“C’mere boy,” he keeps his voice soft, holding out a hand. But the dog doesn’t budge. He just stares at him with that big dumb smile of his.

That really adorable dumb smile.

He tries again. The dog tilts his head and refuses to move. So Chuuya tries another tactic: “C’mere, girl?”

Still doesn’t move a muscle. Although now the dog looks amused as he paces from side to side, just out of Chuuya’s reach.

Yeah, gotta be a boy with that kind of attitude.

Chuuya sighs before pushing himself off the ground. Ah well, guess he’s too nervous to approach humans. Can’t really blame him for that; this city’s got its fair share of unpleasant people. He deals with them all the time, so he can kinda relate.

He shoves his hands back into his pockets (try not to think about how soft the dog’s fur must be) and turns on his heel to head home. It’s getting late anyway, and he’s got to get an early start tomorrow morning. He can’t be spending all night moping around some stray puppy following him around.

Even if he is the cutest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

But he only gets a few steps in before hearing the unmistakable click-click of the dog’s nails against the pavement. He stops, the dog stops too. He glances over his shoulder, biting back a smile at the dog’s happy face.

“What do you want, huh? I don’t have any food, so if that’s what you’re looking for…”

Not that he looks like he needs any treats to begin with. He’s seen a few of the dogs roaming around Yokohama, all skin and bones as they pick through tipped-over trash cans. And the stray cats are no better, ears flat against their skulls as they hiss and claw at everything in sight.

So why does this dog look so fucking proud of himself?

Chuuya sighs and whistles to himself—and suddenly the dog comes running.

Two dirty paws plant themselves on his dress pants, that’ll surely be hard to get out, but how can he get angry when the dog’s trying so hard to reach his face? He chuckles under his breath as he kneels down to his level, as the dog plants kiss after kiss on his face with his slobbery tongue.

“Who knew all it took was a whistle?” he says more to himself than to the pup. The dog’s tail is wagging so hard he thinks it’ll fall off, the tiny little thing that it is.

He slides one of his gloves off, letting the dog sniff his hand before scratching him behind the ears. He was right, his fur is so soft… And his smile only gets bigger when the dog licks him again, not even minding all the drool.

But then he stiffens, slipping his fingers through the dog’s fur, noticing a red band of leather fastened around his neck. A collar? No way he’s someone’s pet. Then again, he does look a little too spoiled to be wandering the streets for food.

He curls his finger around the golden tag dangling from the buckle. No name, only an address he thinks he recognizes. Right on the edge of Yokohama, where the scent of sea salt is the strongest. Is it someone’s house? Apartment? Maybe a  shelter of some kind?

Chuuya steals another look at the dog, at those sweet brown eyes and twitching wet nose, trying his best to ignore the icy clench of his stomach. Maybe it’s for the best, just to bring him back. What’s he gonna do with a dog, anyway? Not like his job allows for much time raising a puppy, anyway.

Even one so cute as this little guy.

“Alright,” he sighs, scooping the pup in his arms, “let’s get you home.” He tries not to dwell on how warm the puppy is, or how softly he nestles his face in the crook of his shoulder.

And definitely not the way he can feel the pup drifting off to sleep as he starts down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Gentle puffs against his skin, his curly tail twitching against his wrist.

“Kotaro! There you are!”

The engraving on the pup’s collar has led him to a tiny little shop a few minutes from the port. A bit shabby with a torn sign on the top and windows that have definitely seen better days, and he’s about to turn tail (no pun intended) until he sees someone nearly fly out through the set of double doors.

“Kotaro!” Your voice is strained, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sweep the puppy into your arms. Clutching him as tight as you can, smoothing down the fur on his head as he stirs awake from his little nap. “I was worried sick… How did you escape again?! I could’ve sworn I locked the doors… You’re just lucky I came back downstairs when I did—or else you would’ve been out there all night long!”

The puppy only wags his tail, staring up at you with those silly eyes and sweet little “smile.” He knows it’s your weakness, how could you be angry at a face like that?

Oh, well. As long as he’s safe, you can’t really hold a grudge against him. Not when he’s back in your arms, safe and sound, and it’s just the two of you, just as it always should be.

It’s only when you hear someone clear their throat that you realize you’re actually not alone. You hastily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand—it’s a little difficult with a nearly-twenty-pound dog in your arms—and stare up at the man before you. Kotaro’s savior, your savior. And suddenly you feel a fresh wave of tears surge forth.

“Thank you for bringing him back! I’m so sorry if he’s caused you any trouble, I know he has a habit of bothering people when he sneaks out—I thought I’d kept him inside this time! He just has a thing for running away like the little troublemaker he is. He’s still young, hopefully he’ll grow out of it when he’s older, maybe he’ll mellow out and settle down, and then…”

You bite your tongue and avert your eyes. No need to scare off the stranger with your incessant rambling, especially after he was so nice to bring Kotaro back to you. But he only shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips as he tips his hat over his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, he didn’t cause too much trouble.” He lifts a hand, allowing Kotaro to sniff him before scratching the fur beneath his chin. “Keep an eye on him, though. You don’t want him getting lost out there, especially this time of night.”

“I know… I swear, he’s gonna give me gray hairs before the end of the year. The other dogs aren’t even this mischievous, I don’t know where he got it from!”

Wait, other dogs?

He glances over your shoulder, towards the dingy windows of the shop. Pet supplies and part-time shelter, the sign plastered on the glass says. And sure enough, the closer he looks at your outfit, he can see little bits of dog fur clinging to the fabric—some gray, some brown, some white, and then a hint of orange thanks to Kotaro.

Just how many dogs do you have in there?

“Anyway, I just wanna say I really appreciate you bringing him back here. You didn’t have to, I know you’re probably busy. Let me just run inside and get my wallet, I think I have some left over if you want—”

But he’s quick to shut you down with a shake of his head, even a wave of his hands for emphasis. No money, he’s already got plenty of that to spare. And besides, it doesn’t sit right with him, paying him for something that should come naturally to any decent person.

And he doesn’t want to sound mean, but judging from the shape of that little shop of yours, you look like you can use every last cent you have.

“Oh, if you say so… But still, why don’t I make it up to you sometime?”

An uneasy silence settles in the air between you; Chuuya blinks as he watches you shift your weight, partially hiding your face in Kotaro’s fur.

“…I mean, you don’t have to—I just wanna pay you back some way! Maybe I can treat you to lunch one of these days? I don’t have many days off, but I can make it work! Or maybe…do you have a dog of your own? I can give you a discount on anything in the shop!” You throw an arm out to the double doors behind you, still holding Kotaro to your chest. “Name it and it’s yours! I really don’t mind, it’s just me here anyway. Well, me and the dogs, all nine of us.”

Wait, nine, including yourself…

“You have eight of them?!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat at the look on Chuuya’s face. He reminds you of a child on Christmas morning, staring at the presents strewn around the glowing tree. He doesn’t seem one to enjoy the company of dogs, given his fancy attire and confident aura.

And yet, he still brought Kotaro back home, when he could’ve easily turned and walked the other way. You’ve learned not to judge a book by its cover, after all.

“Eight dogs, and hopefully more by the end of the year.” Your cheeks grow warm beneath his startling blue gaze. (His eyes are really pretty up close, aren’t they?) “…I can tell you all about them on our lunch date, if you’re interested.”

He blinks, eyes flitting back and forth between you and the dog in your arms. You’ve got guts, he’ll give you that; he can see it in the way you talk to him, the way you hold the puppy in your arms. Gentle as ever, but a fire brimming in your eyes. You love this dog, no doubt about it.

And you’ve got seven more inside? Do you love them all the same amount?

What breeds are they? How did you come to adopt so many dogs at once? Or did you adopt them at once, or sporadically over the years?

So many questions, and yet the night is crawling by. He shakes his head again, giving Kotaro one last scratch behind the ears, before meeting your gaze once more.

“Lunch sounds perfect, doll.”

Your lips pull up in a smile, and he can’t help but notice how it nearly matches the one on Kotaro’s face. Bright and eager, melting under the attention of the ones around you.

And yet your smile is infinitely prettier, and he finds himself thinking about it as he starts the familiar journey back home, as the night hours slowly tick by.

[jadedxhearts]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 #𝟓

Pre-TS Law’s Sex Drive/Riskiness HCs

Warnings: fem reader, smut

Originally posted on May 22nd, 2023

Pre time skip Law wouldn’t give a fuck who hears the way you scream his name. He’ll finger you under tables, drag you to the bathroom for a quick fuck, take you out to the dark back alleys of bars for you to suck him off. If someone manages to see? He’d just shambles their body apart, no?

He’d fuck you in various parts of the submarine, not concerned with any of the crew walking in because they know when it’s time to leave you both alone. “Stay out of the operation room… captain’s at it with y/n again…”.

One in particular I think abt often is the control room. Yknow the scene where he’s laid back in a chair down there, his feet up on the control panel? It made me feel things.

He’d throw you against the panel, lifting your legs high above his shoulders as he begins to pound into you, growling in your ear like an animal while you let out the sweetest moans, cries of his name or “Oh, Captain!”s falling from your lips. Your screams certainly reach beyond the closed door of the room, a clear warning to others that you and Law are not to be disturbed.

Or if he’s feeling more lazy, maybe on a late night watch down in the control room, he’ll be laid back, idly watching for anything that would require him to do take action. But you’ll be doing all the work. His jeans are barely undone, hoodie slid up just enough for you to see his stomach. But on the other hand, you’re completely naked, exposed for anybody who dares set foot into the room to see. You’re bouncing on Law’s cock, crying and begging for him to fuck you, desperate to feel him thrust up into you, hard. Riding Law’s cock isn’t easy work, especially when he won’t do as much as hold your hips. You’ve got to balance yourself all while rocking yourself on him, using the last of your strength to force little jumps to get some sort of movement inside you.

He could do that for hours. Watching you fuck yourself on him while he makes no effort to pleasure you is too enjoyable, like a show he doesn’t want to end. He can’t even keep count of how many times you’ve cum around his length, but you never stop, needing him to throw you back and fuck you hard, desperate to get him to pump all of his seed into you. But Law’s stubborn, as well as a sadist. He likes watching you suffer like this. He’ll let you ride him until tears are streaming down your face, voice broken as you can barely hold yourself up anymore. That’s when he’ll finally cave, gently pulling you into his arms, laying your head against his shoulder. He’ll hold you tightly and start finally thrusting, giving you what you crave. You’re shaking in his lap, cunt squeezing and spasming around his length, too overstimulated to handle anything else. When he finally cums, you let out a broken scream, whimpering and crying real tears as he chuckles beneath you, stroking your hair as your body tries relaxing. But even then, he still doesn’t pull out.

He’s also not afraid to show you off. Sitting in his lap publicly is no big deal, Law likes to flaunt his possession like this. Or thinking back to the Auction House in Saboady, think about the way he was sitting there. You could be curled up against him, arms clinging to him as he wears you like a prize.

And this way, everybody will know that even attempting to mess with you will result in near death for them. Law doesn’t fuck around when it comes to you, the person he loves most. Should anyone dare to cat-call you or try to take you away from him, it’ll result in Law taking their head.

But, as the two years of the time skip happen, Law becomes more private, as do you. You’re not constantly attached to his hip anymore, now opting for subtle hand holding or if he feels the need to, he’ll protectively place his hand on your lower back when you’re walking through towns. He’s also not as sexually driven, craving more sweet intimate moments over impulsive sex crazed ones. If the moment’s right, he’ll go for it. But mostly, he just wants to hold you close, get some comfort from your warm embrace and feel your gentle kisses on his face.

[katiexpunk]

Heat Wave | Pairing Javier Peña X fem!Reader

Summary:  In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI. I say this with love -- GTFO.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Javi wasn't super nice to reader and has to gravel a bit, female masturbation, references to the cartels, use of pet names (Hermosa, Cariño), emotions, reader cries, sweat, fingering, female stimulation, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up, don't lead by my written example), direct p in v, pussy slap, somewhat rough sex, sensual sex, creampie, and cum eating.

Authors Note: Eek! This is my first time writing for Javi, so be kind to be hunnie bunnies. Joel will always have my smutty heart, but damn, Javi can fucking get it. Special thanks to @sydneyinacoma for being my personal hype woman on this one, and to @josephquinnswhore for telling me this premise wasn't total trash. Ily bbs.

Also I often edit after I post (hello typos) so if you saw one originally sorry 🫣

The window is wide open, but the curtains aren’t moving; only offering a slight flutter now and again, offering a deceptive promise of a breeze that you know will never come. You lay there, restlessly, the cotton sheets sticking to your damp skin. The eerie silence of the room was punctuated by the whirring fan overhead, its blades churning the stale, hot air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It’s nearly midnight, hours since you’d gone to bed, but yet, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, cursing why you ever decided to move to Colombia. Had you known it would be the hottest summer on record, you might have thought differently and denied the job. 

You turn to your side, annoyed at the hair clinging to the back of your neck and forehead like velcro. You stare at the alarm clock on your nightstand, watching the numbers slowly change, like a shitty version of trying to count sheep, but there’s no point. You’re wide awake, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can change that. 

You roll onto your back to splay out like a starfish, hoping the gap between your limbs will somehow offer you some reprieve from your burning core, and you stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’ll actually get any sleep tonight. The heat was enough to keep you awake, but there were other things that would probably prevent you from dozing off if the heat weren’t a factor. 

Outside of the thud of your own pulse, it’s completely quiet in your apartment. You’re sure people are awake, but no sound comes from Steve and Connie’s apartment next door; nor from Javi’s. Odd, you think, considering work has been slow as of late and most of Colombia, even the cartels have hidden themselves away from the relenting sun and suffocating humidity, too tired to do anything substantial. 

In your haze, eyes transfixed on the ceiling panels above you, you try your best to think about something else, anything but him, but your last conversation replays in your brain like a bad rerun. 

You knew he wasn’t really the type to settle down, and you were more than aware of his reputation, yet you let yourself hope that this situation might be different, that you might be the one to change him. 

He had insisted that it was for the best and that he wasn’t the right guy for you; that it should be simple for you to move forward and erase any trace of your connection, and that he should do the same. Perhaps that was the reality of it; maybe it was only you who had experienced a heightened sense of joy during those countless nights he held you close. When wrapped in his embrace, the burden of your conscience seemed to lighten, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever found comfort in your presence as well.

Your mind begins to drift to the ways he made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. You can still feel his pillowy lips leaving a soft trail of kisses up your neck and across your jaw, cock buried deep inside of you. The memory of it sits low in your belly, adding to the stickiness between your thighs, now a cruel mixture of sweat and arousal. 

Your mind swirls with thoughts of him, and you decide that there might be one thing you’ve yet to try that might be able to help you fall asleep. You lay there, trying to focus, to let your mind sink into better days, better nights, ones you had spent wrapped around him in every way possible.

You tease your fingertips along the thin fabric of your tank top, trying to ignore the way the sweat that’s seeped into its fibers causes it to bunch up as you stroke your hand down your sternum. You circle your nipples through the fabric, trying to call forward any sense of arousal or sensuality. You slide your hand under the waistband of your linen shorts and place your hand between your legs, resting it atop your lace underwear, already wet, courtesy of Colombia and your incessant thoughts of Javi. 

Your fingers are quite delicate compared to his, and you miss the thickness only he can seem to provide. You slide your underwear to the slide, and drag your index finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit. Your hips lift at the sensation, and you let out a little moan.  

You begin to slowly draw small circles, eventually increasing your pace enough to provide a nice mix of movement and pressure. Your restless thoughts of him have you so keyed up, already so close to the cliff of your orgasm you can practically taste it. Your body heats even more as you chase your high, desperate for a release, practically begging for an escape from this inferno. Like a cord about to snap, you swear you’re starting to see stars when you hear it  – knock, knock – and the distraction cruelly pulls you back from the edge, your pressure gauge falls, and your orgasm retreats back inside you like you scared it. 

No! Fuck. 

Now hot, tired, and sexually frustrated, you let out a long sigh. You slide your underwear back in place and withdraw your hand from your shorts. You wipe your wet fingers on the fabric beneath you, gaze at the clock once more, and wonder who the hell would be at your door at this hour. You rise, legs still a little shaky from your would-be orgasm, and walk over to answer it. 

Your aggravation at the disruption vanishes the moment you clock his face through the peephole. You unlock the top and bottom lock and release the chain from the door, opening it to completely see him. 

He looks like he’s been chewed up and spat out, his hair a disheveled mess of thick, dark, damp curls, small beads of perspiration collecting on his lush, tan skin. You’ve seen him like this before, a look of affliction, hiding behind soft brown eyes. But there’s something else flickering in his eyes – some kind of yearning. For what? You haven’t got a clue. He’s made his stance on your relationship very clear, or at least, the parade of women filing in and out of his apartment speaks volumes. 

You lean up against the door frame, waiting for him to speak, to give some sort of explanation as to why he’s on your doorstep.

“Hey,” is all he says, eyeing you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed stomach. 

You’re positive you must look like a mess right now, but you don’t really care, you feel like one. 

“Javi – is everything okay? It’s late,” you answer quietly.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then shifts the weight from one hip to another, unsure of himself, obviously uncomfortable. 

“I know, ‘m really sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you can’t turn him down. You step aside so he can enter your small living room, hoping he can’t smell your arousal on you, hoping that he’ll assume the musk lingering in the air was just from the cracked window, the outside world seeping in. 

Your apartment was rather small to begin with, but with his presence, it seemed to shrink before your eyes. He walks over to the center of the room, and pauses once he sees the couch; a memory of him railing you on it flashes through his brain. 

No. 

No, he won’t let himself think about that. He swallows the thought, and palms at his jeans to adjust himself.  He’s not here for that, he’s here to gravel.

You let out a sigh, and walk over to him. You come to stand right in front of him, giving him the opportunity to commit the sight of you like this to memory – all pretty, skin clammy, cheeks a darker shade of pink than normal. You pause before saying anything, still unsure why he’s here in the first place. 

“Can I get you some water, whiskey, anything?” you ask, cringing at how awkward it feels to play hostess with him now, considering he’s explored every inch of your body with his tongue.

Javier shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat collecting there as if he’s deciding what to say. 

“Mmm, no. Probably shouldn’t have any more whiskey tonight,” he admits. “Some water would be good. You don’t happen to have anything cold by chance, do you? This heat is fucking killing me,” he says. 

“Actually, yeah, I do,” you say, your voice an octave too high, remembering your creation earlier this evening. You nod to Javi to take a seat on the couch, giving him a perfect view to watch as you saunter over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and reveal a container with a kaleidoscope of colors. It closes with a thud, and you open the fridge next, pulling from it a bowl of fresh fruit – juicy chunks of mango, sweet pineapple, zesty oranges – and a can of whipped cream. Javier watches intently as you gather it all neatly onto a little tray, glide over to the end of the tiny kitchen to grab two spoons from a drawer, and close it with a quick thrust of your hip. 

You place the tray on the coffee table. The couch lets out a little squeak as you find your seat next to his. 

“Fresh cholado – made it tonight,” you say, offering him a spoon. 

You neatly assemble the fruit on top of the colorful slushy mixture. The sound of the whipped cream releasing its contents onto the top of the fruit causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise to stand. 

“Go ahead, dig in,” you say, offering him a kind smile. God, you’re always so sweet and nice to him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. 

Both with a spoon in hand now, you delve into the sensory masterpiece, pausing in silence as you savor the blend of textures and tastes, a welcomed escape from the heat.

Javier closes his eyes and lets out a small hum in delight. 

“This is so good, holy shit,” he praises, not even finishing with his latest bite before he’s digging in for another. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, and you really mean it. 

The elephant in the room becomes harder and harder to ignore. 

“Why are you here, Javier?” you ask, voice a little unsure. 

His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and he swallows his last bite and then places the metal spoon onto the tray in front of you both. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds out his hand, his eyes pleading with you to take it. You hesitate, before deciding to place your palm in his, allowing his fingers to wrap around yours. He stares at it, the pad of his thumb tracing over the back of it, and he inches closer to you. 

Neither of you says anything, but your brows furrow and you look at him, hoping he can see the pain – the hurt he inflicted on you – in your eyes. 

“Cariño,” he whispers softly, and you sense the obvious change in his tone. His hand releases yours, and he brings his palm up to land on your cheek. Maybe it was just the heat playing tricks with your emotions, but the simple action causes tears to well up in your eyes. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admits. 

Oh god, he already broke your heart once, was he here to just do it all over again? The thought causes your already battered heart to sink into your stomach. 

“I can’t pretend like I don’t need you anymore,” he continues, “like you’re not the only thing - the only person - in Colombia preventing me from losing myself,” he adds. 

The sudden truth bomb he’s dropped leaves you speechless. 

“I —” you start to say, but the broken silence is all it takes before Javi pulls you in closer, hugging your waist, dragging you up onto his lap, your knees straddling him. You try to ignore the uncomfortable press of his DEA badge digging into your inner thigh but secretly hope it leaves a mark. 

Fuck, it feels so good to be on him like this again. You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do. You rest one hand on his shoulder and instinctively run the other hand’s fingers through his hair. Old habits die hard. For the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief; you wager he must feel the same by the hefty sigh that escapes his lips. 

“Javi – I don’t,” you pause, your words trembling, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” you say, allowing your hands to wrap around his torso and your head to fall into the crook of his neck. Hot tears begin to spill from your eyes and fall to the fabric of his shirt, the weight of your confession compounding with all of your other frustrations from the evening. 

“I know, baby. I just…fuck, I don’t know how to do this. I suck at the emotional,” he admits, gently patting the back of your hair and holding you close to him. He pauses before guiding your face up to look at him and continues, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was just scared; didn’t want to get hurt, or even worse, hurt you, but I realize now that I did, and I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Shit. I just… I need you, I need you more than I need air in my lungs,” he adds, and you hear the break in his voice. 

“You do?” you ask, hating how pathetic you must sound, your eyes puffy and cheeks wet from your crying.

“I’ll always be here for you, cariño, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me?” he softly mutters. Seeing you trying to blink away the silent years trailing down your cheeks, he reaches up and swipes away at them with his thumb, and his hand stays there, cupping your face.  

You nod yes in response. 

Just like that, it’s almost as if everything were still the same; as if it were just you and him against it all. A thought of doubt crosses your mind, one saying this might just be temporary, your heart still unsure if you can trust him, but you allow yourself to cave into the feeling all the same. 

He holds you quietly against his chest, the pressure of his strong arm around you is soothing. You feel his cock begin to stiffen under you, and it causes something to stir in your lower belly. God, you want him. It was less than half an hour ago that you were coaxing yourself to orgasm with just the thought of him inside you.

Your chest begins to flush, and the heat your bodies generate together mingles with the warm air in the room around you. You slightly press off of him to find some reprieve from the burning surface of his chest and place your hand on it, his shirt slightly clinging to it as you do. 

You lean forward and press a soft, breathless kiss on his lips, one laced with the taste of tears. It’s delicate at first, as if to test the waters of your reunification after so much time apart, but it’s not before long that it deepens; his tongue exploring the recesses of your mouth, your mutual lust boiling to the surface. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips and he grips onto the delicious flesh there, inviting you to grind against him. 

Your hips roll on him, and you feel a sudden disdain for the clothing that clings to your skin like a second skin. The fabric is damp and heavy, and with each roll of your hips, it chafes against you. Your eyes tell you that you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, Javier’s face in a slight twist, one that screams both pleasure and pain. 

“You know, Colombia’s hot enough without the two of us making more of it,” you say, letting a little giggle out as you do, tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind. Javier trails kisses down the side of your neck and then darts his tongue out to lick the hollow of your throat. The action causes your breath to hitch. 

“You’re right, Cariño, we really should do something about these layers, hmm,” he purrs, and you catch his drift. 

He releases both of his hands from your hips and helps you lift your tanktop over your head, your perky tits bounce in response and the friction of the fabric on your nipples causes them to stiffen. One of his hands finds its home on your hip, and the other comes to grab your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending a tiny zap through you as he does. His mouth finds your chest and his tongue trails the valley of your breasts before slowly making its way over to the stiff peak of your other exposed nipple. A low, hungry growl leaves his chest, it’s a needy and desperate sound that goes straight to your cunt. 

“Javi –” you moan, “clothes,” It’s not a question, but a request, one he’s happy to oblige. 

He begins to undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and you watch in anticipation, his stiff cock under you making you impatient. His shirt joins yours on the floor, and you trail your hand down the expanse of his chest, noting the little freckles that pepper it; the small detail drives you to another level of impatience. 

You swing your leg over him, feet coming to the floor; a temporary but necessary adjustment so you can step out of your shorts and panties. You stand there before him, happily naked, pleased to be free of your cloth prison. The air is thick and hot, but it feels good to have so much exposed skin for the first time tonight. With his eyes dragging over every inch of your body, you eagerly watch back as his hands come to his waistline and he undoes his metal belt buckle. 

You look down and notice his boots are still on; you drop to your knees in front of him and you swear you hear his heart thump in excitement at what you might do. You look back up to lock eyes with him, and you reach down to his shoes and begin to undo the laces of his boots. Fuck, that’s definitely not what he thought you were going to do. With his feet free, his fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his denim jeans, and he slowly undoes them, lifting his hips slightly to let them over his ass as he drags them down, taking his briefs with them, until everything is off his body. 

Now both totally naked, you rise to take a seat on him, but his hand darts out to your shoulder as if to hold you in place on your knees. He spits into his free palm, and takes his heavy cock in hand, slowly gripping the length of it up and down. You salivate at the sight, the tip of him is red and weepy with pre-cum. 

“I think you look pretty good where you are, Hermosa,” he says, “always so pretty, especially like this,” he adds, still stroking himself. 

You love when he uses his Spanish on you, his words sending a surge of desire through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity as the sticky tread of arousal pools between your legs.  

You inch closer to him, your hands finding his knees, and you gently pry them apart, creating just enough space for you between them. You look at him as if to say let me, and he releases his grip on himself, and you take over stroking his length. You lick your lips and position him at the entrance of your mouth. You place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, and smear the precum that’s gathered there on your lips like chapstick. 

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He gathers your sweaty hair into a makeshift ponytail and holds it back from your face, allowing you to work him without distraction. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Javier unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering your practically sucking his sanity out through his dick and having fun with it. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna have to stop or you’re gonna make me cum,” he says, holding the hair on your head taught as if to warn you to slow down, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as if to think about something other than how good you’re making him feel. You let out a satisfied mew, and release him, a little pop sound fills the air as you do. 

“C’mere –,” he says, a little breathless and sweaty. You rise to stand, your knees pink and sore from the ground, and he stands to join you. At full height, you have to look up to see his face, and you feel him grab both of your hips and twist you around onto all fours, your upper body resting on the couch for support.  “My turn to taste you, Cariño,” he says, using his knee to nudge you, and encourage you to spread your legs open for him. 

With your tummy flat on the couch cushions, your ass is on full display, and he fucking loves it. Using his middle finger, he inserts it into your needy cunt, gently curling it to sweetly abuse your g-spot. The moans that escape your lips only encourage him further, a light chuckle follows when he reminds you that he’s only using one finger and that he’s just getting started with you. He uses his other hand and pushes your hips and ass deeper into the couch, while his one finger stays in place, gently rubbing the spongey texture of your g-spot without breaking, making you squirm under the bare minimum he’s providing you. 

You’re already wet, but once he thinks it’s enough, he extracts his finger, and uses his hands to lift your hips up, making you arch your back for him. He crouches down further to plant a tender kiss on your ass, biting into it very dimly, eliciting a little yelp from you in response. He slowly begins to move lower and lower, kissing the lines where your ass meets your thighs. He taps your cunt a few times with his thick fingers, each time getting a bit rougher, sending a stinging sensation through your whole body. The rough taps eventually become a full-on slap, and you move your hips in desperation, a mellow whimper escapes your lips begging him to give you what you need. He flattens his tongue, and moves it across the expanse of your dripping folds, lapping at you like you’re the cold refreshment he needs. 

The tip of his tongue finds your clit, and he stays there momentarily to give it a little suck before moving it upwards, licking the whole length of your pussy. He continues to do this a few more times, before finally stopping and focusing his attention on your now swollen clit. You’re barely breathing as his tongue relentlessly pleasures your needy little clit. He brings his forearms onto the back of your ass, and uses his thumbs to spread your outer lips open completely for him. 

“Javi – holy fuck,” you moan as he slides his greedy tongue inside you, moving it in and out as breathless moans continue to leave your lungs. 

“Taste so good, sweeter than the fuckin’ cholado,” he praises, and you’re nearly gone at his words.

He continues to eat at you, but releases a hand and then brings it back up, under you this time, as his fingers begin to circle smooth circles over your clit once more; your whole body begins to shake, it’s so much. You’re moaning and whimpering at the feeling of both his hands and his mouth on you. 

“Come for me – want you to soak my face,” he says, his encouragement is all you need and you snap. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses under his attention. He rides out your orgasm with you, ensuring no drop of your sweet juices goes to waste. Once your shaking has subsided, he lifts his chest and you readjust, bringing your weight to your forearms on the couch. 

“Javi, need you, god, please,” you’re all but practically begging for him. 

‘I’ve got you baby,” he coos, “gonna give you what you need,” he says as he strokes his cock a few times, and then places the tip at your slick and waiting hole. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it was your fucking job, like it was made for him. 

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a song made as a result of your wetness and his thighs, spurs you on. He reaches out and grips the back of your neck, and jerks you backward into him, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax. 

“Just like that, you’re so perfect, Cariño, taking me so perfectly,” he praises, voice low. 

You squirm and babble something of the likes of gonna come under him, and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off. 

Suddenly, without warning he stops fucking you and pulls out. You look back at him, brow creased, wondering why he stopped. 

The sight is one you’ll remember till the day you die, Javi all sweaty curls, ragged breaths, hard and throbbing cock in hand, shiny with your slick, looking at you through needy brown doe eyes. 

“Why – why’d you stop,” you ask, breathless. 

“Turn around, Hermosa. Lay on the couch. Want to look you in the eyes as I cum,” he rasps. 

You do as he says, and spread your legs open for him. Within seconds, he’s back on you, filling you up to the base of him. The dark hairs at the base of him tickle your swollen clit as he rolls his hips into you. A tingling warmth pools in his belly and surges through every sensitive nerve on his body, accompanied by the surge of blood that rushes to every corner of his flesh, his response making it obvious that his release is imminent. 

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him. 

He collapses on top of you, working to catch his breath, an exhausted mix of sex, heat, and general tiredness from the restless night. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and intertwine your fingers around his now full-on wet locks and trace small patterns onto his back. You stay there like that, in your sticky embrace of sex and emotion, until your heart rates return to normal and your breaths find a manageable pattern. 

He slips out, bringing with him a glob of cum that pools on the cushion beneath you. He leans back on the other arm of the small couch and watches as he slowly pools out of you. “Mmm, sure do love watching me drip out of you,” his gaze doesn’t move from the filthy sight of it.

He leans forward to drag his pointer finger through your folds, causing your body to twitch at the unexpected sensation on your tender clit. He slightly presses the tip of his finger into you, and his cock twitches and begins to swell like it’s ready to go again. He drags his finger out, now coated with a mix of you and him, and he brings it up to your lips. 

“Taste us,” he says. You open your mouth to welcome the cum-coated finger onto your tongue. You savor the taste of the mix of you, an overly salty, heady mix of sweat and semen.

Once satisfied, he removes his finger and leans back once more. 

In your fucked out state, you tilt your head toward the coffee table, noticing that the remaining cholado has turned into a sticky, syrupy mess. 

“Sad that’s melted, I could really use something cold right about now,” you say as you reach your arms up and try to secure your wet hair into a little bun on the top of your head. 

“How about a cold shower,” Javi offers, a smile on his face. He stands and offers his palm to you for the second time tonight. 

Without saying anything, and without hesitation this time, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you off the couch and into his arms. His chest firm against yours, he brings both of his palms to cup your face in an embrace. He pauses momentarily before leaning down to place his lips against yours. 

“And then maybe some breakfast?” He says, tilting his head to the side, signaling to the window. 

The sun is now rising, bringing with it what you can only imagine is going to be another tortuous day. 

Well, almost as torturous.

At least now you have each other. 

Although you’re pretty confident you won’t be getting any sleep tomorrow night, either. 

END

Tagging some moots: @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @endlessthxxghts

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

[daddykylokenobi]

can you pls write matt the radar technician smut their simply is not enough of it in this world

Thank you so much Anon for this request! I’ve never written anything Matt before so this is a really fun change of pace from my usual characters. I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings: piv sex, Dom!Matt, begging, fingering, use of the petname “baby”, cussing, overall filth.

Matt the Radar Technician x Y/N

You had Had your eye on Matt for some time now, always checking him out when you’d pass in a hallway, watching him from the other side of the common room, any chance you got to melt over him you lavished in each second.

But you had only spoken a few times, always small talk about what work you each had that day, the current news or gossip around the ship, or little questions you’d sprinkle in to try and get to know him better. This specific day you two had matched eyes in the cafeteria, you were watching him as always and he had finally caught you, he’d seen you staring out of the corner of his eyes before but whenever he looked over to meet your gaze you had quickly looked away with red flushed cheeks.

This time instead of darting your eyes away as quickly as possible to evade any awkward feelings later you decided to hold your ground, you both stared forward ahead at eachother, lost in each others gaze you felt that familiar heat you’d get when watching him rise to your face. He saw the mauve shadow begin to color your cheeks and a little devilish smirk crossed his lips. Matt was feeling bold as well this day, he in a split second decision flashed a wink to your blushed face.

Panic set in as this happened, without thinking you pushed yourself away from your lunch table and headed straight for the elevator to run, hide, get away from this blaze that was growing in your core. As much as you hated to admit it you were quite shy around people you liked, especially ones like Matt. He was much taller than you and broad shouldered, his messy blonde hair and dark eyes enthralled you from the second glance and ever since you had busied yourself each night by thinking of him, thinking of what he’d look like beside you in bed, that stupid gray jumper he had to wear thrown on your floor along with Your clothes. Part of you felt guilty for touching yourself while thinking of Matt, but when it was late and you couldn’t sleep from the ache inside the only thing that seemed to satiate that desire was imagining him on top of you, burying himself as deeply as possible while you cried out his name.

Just as the doors of the elevator were about to close a large hand slipped between them causing them to slip back open, you jumped slightly as this stole you away from the impure thoughts raiding your mind. You looked up and watched the same thing you were running from step into the elevator, Matt stepped silently beside you then leaned forward to close the elevator doors.

He then stood beside you and you both watched the doors close, you swallowed hard while peeking to your left to look at him, he was already peering over at you.

“H-how’s your day going?” You nervously asked while trying to pretend that 30 seconds ago he Didn’t wink at you after catching you staring at him.

“Fine.” He answered plainly, “You?”

“Uh it’s been pretty good, boring I suppose.” You mumbled while hiding your stare to the floor.

Just as the words left your mouth the elevator stalled causing you both to stumble back, Matt grabbed your arm firmly to help you stand back up and you both started quickly looking around the elevator, the lights had begun to blink and stutter then finally shut off except for a small red emergency light in the corner that was dimly lighting the small room.

“What the hell?” He hissed under his breath, he let go of your arm then reached over to grab the com device from the elevator panel. “Hello?” He asked into the small box.

“We are currently working on the problem, the elevator should be back and running soon.” The voice on the other end was robotic and stiff, a hint of annoyance in their voice. “The rest of the elevators are down too so just give us a few minutes.” Then the voice cut off.

Matt stepped back to your side then looked at you. “Hope you didn’t have anywhere to be.” You could practically hear him roll his eyes, Matt had.. a bit of a anger issue problem, you had seen him flip out more times than you’d have cared too.

“Eh no I actually didn’t, my work was done for the day so..” Your voice was almost at a whisper, how in the galaxy could you two have gotten stuck in an elevator together just seconds after your first flirty encounter? You felt your body begin to rise in temperature and you quickly began to strip your jacket off your shoulders.

Matt eyed you up and down then asked with a smirk, “Hot?”

His question was like a stab to the stomach, his voice dripped seduction and the way his mouth curved to the side was making you feel a certain way.

“A little..” you quietly answered, you knew your face was red, you could feel the heat radiate from them even just being so close to him.

Matt turned to face you, “So.. what was that about earlier?”

“What do you mean?” Your lip shook as he asked this.

“You running off?” He scoffed with a raised eyebrow. “Just after I thought we.. had a moment.” He said while stepping towards you.

Instinctually you stepped back, 2 more and your back had hit the wall leaving you no where to go, Matt followed and put his hands on each side of the wall behind your shoulders, you were trapped.

“I-I just had to leave…” You stuttered as you looked up at him, he was easily towering over your smaller frame.

He tilted his head down to look you in the eyes, his glasses slipped down his nose giving you the first naked glance into his eyes that you’d had. You felt his hot breath wash over your face as he huffed out lightly.

“Uh huh.” He said with an uninterested tone, he brought his mouth down towards the side of your exposed neck, you shook with him being so close.. his mouth so readily available to do whatever it was he pleased…

“Matt what a-are you doing..?” You whispered as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to pull your raging emotions together.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer fingers then lifted your face upto his, you creeped your eyes open and felt your breath catch in your lungs as you were met with his face directly in front of yours.

“I thought this was what you wanted..? You’ve only been watching me for weeks now..” He had one eyebrow raised.

You felt embarrassment take over, you thought he hadn’t noticed your casual stalking but knowing now that he had…

“I-… I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to be weird I ju-“

Matt cut your defense in half as he roughly slammed his mouth to yours, he exhaled through his nose loudly while pressing his body against yours.

You were left breathless at this, his lips were warm and his mouth engulfed yours, he quickly began to lick and suck at your bottom lip, leaving no time to warm up to the sensation.

For a moment you tried fighting back, you pressed your hands to his hard chest and squirmed underneath of them before giving into the euphoric feeling his lips were giving you.

“Hmmphh..” you moaned against his mouth as he slid his tongue past your lips to taste you deeper, he was sporadically grabbing and pulling at your hips trying to feel you as closely as possible.

Without thinking you began to bring your right thigh up to curl around his leg, in one swift motion he momentarily bent down to snake his left arm underneath your leg to then pick you up and push you against the wall.

“Hey-!” You yelped.

He then dove himself into the right side of your neck where he wasted no time to start biting and sucking dark hickies into you.

“M-Matt wa-wait” you stuttered breathlessly as his lips against your neck started to soak the space between your legs.

“I know-… you want this..” He said inbetween breathy moans.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, you were too embarrassed to answer his question, you just moaned into his shoulder as your reply.

“That’s what I thought..” he sighed.

He continued marking your neck up and down each side, you could feel his erection against your inner thigh and again the breath in your lungs seemed to disappear, you had fantasied about this kind of thing so many times but now that it was happening it felt unreal.

Just as you noticed his bulge he began to grind his hips forward into your core, raspy rhythmic breaths escaped his mouth with each roll of his hips.

“Oh… Matt..” you whined as his lap lined up perfectly with your wide open legs, his hard erection was grinding perfectly aligned with your own heat, it gave you Just enough friction for your walls to clench around themselves, aching for something to fill them.

“Fuck” he hissed as his tip rubbed up and down against the inside of his jumper.

You brought your hands forward to start undoing the front zipper, it trailed down his chest then followed all the way down to his hips. You pulled his jumper down off his shoulders and helped him pull his sleeves out.

He roughly grabbed onto the sides of your pants and yanked them down, you let him pull each side off until the only thing between his heat and yours were 2 thin layers of clothing.

He continued intertwining your tongues, he sucked hard on your bottom lip and you knew that in the morning it would definitely be bruised from him biting it.

You began to whine and cry out to him, “Matt please…” you pleaded with him as you looked down to his large bulge which was pressed against the outside of your underwear.

Again that mind numbing smirk crossed his lips, he brought his hand to your front and began to rub his palm up and down against your pussy. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded.

“I-I-…” your body shook at his dominant request. “I want you i-inside me Matt..” your voice was shaking just as much as your body was.

He breathed out like he had been punched in the stomach, “Fuck baby, that’s all you had to say.” He cursed as he reached down to grab your underwear and slip them down your legs which he then placed back around his waist.

You pulled his face closely to yours then started to lick and kiss at his jawline, pathetic whimpers left your lips as he rubbed his middle finger up and down your slit, you were soaking wet as he slipped his fingers inside of you.

“Ah-ahh!” You cried out as he pumped his fingers roughly in and out of your tight entrance.

After a moment he pulled them back out and brought his fingers upto his lips.

You watched in adoration as he slipped them into his mouth and licked each finger clean while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

Your gut begged to be full of him, quickly you moved your hands down to push down his boxers and reveal his aching member. You let out a sigh of satisfaction at his size, you wrapped your hand around him and knew just from the girth alone that he was going to fill you up So good.

He hissed as your small fingers wrapped around him, he grabbed your wrist tightly then pulled it away.

“You have to ask for it.” He said while trying to catch his breath.

You stared up at his eyes with bewilderment, you didn’t expect him to be so dominant, so demanding. You also didn’t expect it to have the submissive power on you that it did.

“Please..” you whimpered. “Please Matt I Need you so bad..” you could’ve cried from the aching in your core.

As you said this he lined up his tip with your entrance then in one slow thrust he pushed himself deep inside of you hitting your back wall easily.

“Haahhh..” he moaned out, he then began to push and pull himself in and out of your seeping wet hole.

You dug your fingers into his back as he stretched your walls so perfectly, your head felt so heavy with euphoric sensations that for a second you wondered if you were going to pass out.

You muttered out little moans and whimpers against his chest as he continued abusing your small entrance.

“Ugh fuck baby, you’re taking me s-so good” Matt was leaned against your shoulder with his mouth huffing hot breath on your neck.

He took his right hand back down to your heat and started rubbing little circles onto your clit, your entire body twitched at this new addition of pleasure and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you’d crumble underneath of him.

“Matt I-I’m gonna cum” you quickly breathed out as you felt the wave rising inside of your stomach.

“Come on, beg for it” he groaned into your neck as his thrusts started to become stuttered from his own orgasm nearing close.

“P-please… please Matt I wanna cum for you s-so bad!” You yelped loudly as he let his last few thrusts become painfully rough but blissfully pleasurable.

And then as your orgasm crashed through the surface your hot walls clenched around his slick length, the pressure sent him over the edge as well and he released hot bursts of cum into your hole.

You both heaved in and out loudly as you leaned forward onto each others bodies. A few moments passed as you each caught your breath, slowly he leaned forward and placed you back on the floor. You scrambled to find your clothes and pull them back on, Matt was already zipping his jumper back up when the light in the elevator flipped back on and you both felt it begin to move again.

You flashed eachother a glance then Matt cupped your right cheek, he leaned his tall body down to meet your height then pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, this small gesture made you melt even more than the sex just had.

You looked up at him with doe eyes and a tiny smile graced your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He confessed.

You were shocked at this, you didn’t think he liked you the way you did or for how long you had either.

“Me to..” you whispered.

He leaned down once more to deliver a kiss to your mouth, this one was longer and not just filled with lust, it was caring, and warm.

In this moment you realized that you and Matt weren’t just going to be small talk friends who flirted for fun, you were going to be something more.

[mikuthedragon]

=(-Diluted Frustrations-)=

Reader gets drunk and bumps into genshin men, what do they do when they see you

Featuring : Scaramouche, Kaeya, Venti

Warnings: Angst in Scara's part and it's another SFW work c:

The Balladeer

Kuni was angry you did this to yourself, didn't you try to think about the people who cared about you, how could you be so cruel to everyone, but yourself especially.

While yelling at you, you could see him burst into tears, he couldn't help but think about his own past, he also used to hurt himself cause he couldn't accept the person he was, when he looked at you, he saw his younger self, stupid and self destructive.

He pulled you into an embrace and walked you back home, staying by your bed side and helping you sober up.

When you woke up with a pounding headache the next day, he stayed silent, caressed you and asked what was wrong, you don't remember much about the night before but you could've sworn he was angry at you yesterday.

Upon your inquiry, he said he was but it just hurt him more to see someone he loved copy his own terrible coping mechanisms, he didn't want to believe you hated yourself, how could he, when he loved you so much. Why did you hate something he adored so much.

You tell him about the day before, school, work family, everything's been falling apart lately. When you finish he reminds you that just existing right now is enough, he further explains why which entailed that what was happening right now was the worst that's come yet and that even surviving was the hardest and biggest accomplishments of your life.

Surviving meant picking up life where it was torn apart, to feed yourself, let yourself get enough rest, drink enough.

Since he was so anxious, he stayed with you for a few more days and when everything cleared up, you couldn't help but smile and laugh, you still cried a little but you realised that the few road bumps you encountered in life wasn't anything compared to the joy you felt when spending time with Kuni these last few days.

You don't know how you'll ever repay Kuni for this but you think staying by his side for a long time is a good place to start ༼☯﹏☯༽

Kaeya:

Kaeya makes his way into the tavern, early in the morning, he turns to the right and finds you in an obscure corner of the tavern. You're not crying but you have your head down and can't meet his eyes, he doesn't force your head to look at him, but instead says something crazy which snaps you out of your trance.

"Hi~~ Y/N, did you know I own the bar now and we've started putting slime in all the drinks, will you buy a drink for me, your good friend ? You can choose"

"HUHH, I DRANK LIKE A BARREL AND YOU'RE ONLY TELLING ME NOW I'VE BEEN DRINKING SLIME THE WHOLE NIGHT ??"

"Yeah Y/N, Diluc was struggling to keep his business afloat so I hired Xiangling to add new flare to the wine around here, apparently the gooey texture really helped our sales, you're even a prime example of that. Would you like to be the star of our next panel on our newest products ?"

"Kaeya, the audacity you have to ask me to be your next star, I just wanna forget I drank so much slime... urghhhhh but how much will I be paid ?"

"Well around 100k mora perhaps"

"I'll do it!"

"Y/N I have one more thing to say, I'm not the owner of the tavern aha, but it doesn't mean I won't pay you if I do ever inherit the Tavern"

"...."

Kaeya successfully managed to make you angry which is a lot better than being sad. You continue to punch his arm on the way to work. He chuckles and smiles when he catches you looking him in the eyes, he didn't wanna show how worried he was in the tavern, but he silently breathed a sigh of relief. Similarly, you're grateful to have Kaeya as your bestfriend and hope one day you guys can be more.

Venti:

"Y/N is that you ? I didn't think I'd find you here, it's not often you come here to the winery. Well did something good happen ?? Let me guess, you got a new pet, no wait is it a cat, ah darn Y/N, i guess we can't go to your place as often anymore since.. I'm allergic but you know what, for you I can endure a couple sniffles!! ( ᐛ )و"

"Y/N why are you crying..? Did something happen!!?"

"No.. that's just it, nothing happened, I've wasted my life doing nothing, so I came here to fully seal my fate, I'll drink till I can't remember what I ever thought I was good for"

"Y/N don't say that, if you're not here, who's gonna listen to my songs and tell me if they're not too personal to sing in the tavern? ... Tell you what Y/N let me tell you a story. Ahem"

"There was once a wisp, the wisp, young and unwary of the pain of humans found a boy. The boy faced with the tribulations of life, decided to fight for his freedom and the people. The wisp didn't understand what freedom was because it was a privilege of every child of the wind and land of freedom, however the wisp seeing how much it mattered to the boy decided to help in the conquest of freedom.. The boy died for his freedom, the wisp unable to accept that the boy didn't receive what it fought so hard for, continued his legacy and gave everyone true freedom or so it thought. Later the wisp realised, the boy did receive its freedom, he was free to pursue his passion"

"I continue to exist because my goal in life is to be free, to others they might say I'm not free, going from one person to another for spare change here and there for wine. But in my heart, I know i'm free, I'm free because I have the freedom to do nothing and appreciate my existence, the music and nature of Mondstadt and other nations hehe. No one can tell me I can't spend my time with you. Wasting life just doesn't exist, every emotion you feel, impact you make on other people needed you to exist for those to happen."

"I hope you realise one day that you've already lived your life to the fullest and that you continue to enjoy the small pleasures in life, and whenever a sudden urge overcomes you, that you chase to your heart's content, without feeling the need to hold back. You didn't waste your life, you even changed mine"

Part 2 ⟵⁠(⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠) coming soon with Diluc, Ayato and Al Haitham

[faintingheroine]

Yüksek Yüksek Tepelere (traditional Turkish song sung during the “henna night”, a ceremony for the bride the night before the wedding):

Lyrics:

“Don’t let them establish homes in high heights,

Don’t let them give girls to far away regions

Don’t let them demean the one and only of her mother

Let it be known to flying birds,

I missed my mother

Both my mother and my father

I missed my village

If only my father had a horse and came here

If only my mother could sail and come here

If only my siblings knew my whereabouts and came here

Let it be known to the flying birds,

I missed my mother,

Both my mother and my father

I missed my village”

Wuthering Heights:

Catherine:

“I thought as I lay there, with my head against that table leg, and my eyes dimly discerning the grey square of the window, that I was enclosed in the oak-panelled bed at home; and my heart ached with some great grief which, just waking, I could not recollect. I pondered, and worried myself to discover what it could be, and, most strangely, the whole last seven years of my life grew a blank! I did not recall that they had been at all. I was a child; my father was just buried, and my misery arose from the separation that Hindley had ordered between me and Heathcliff. I was laid alone, for the first time; and, rousing from a dismal doze after a night of weeping, I lifted my hand to push the panels aside: it struck the table-top! I swept it along the carpet, and then memory burst in: my late anguish was swallowed in a paroxysm of despair. I cannot say why I felt so wildly wretched: it must have been temporary derangement; for there is scarcely cause. But, supposing at twelve years old I had been wrenched from the Heights, and every early association, and my all in all, as Heathcliff was at that time, and been converted at a stroke into Mrs. Linton, the lady of Thrushcross Grange, and the wife of a stranger: an exile, and outcast, thenceforth, from what had been my world. You may fancy a glimpse of the abyss where I grovelled! Shake your head as you will, Nelly, you have helped to unsettle me! You should have spoken to Edgar, indeed you should, and compelled him to leave me quiet! Oh, I’m burning! I wish I were out of doors! I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills. Open the window again wide: fasten it open! Quick, why don’t you move?’

‘Because I won’t give you your death of cold,’ I answered.

‘You won’t give me a chance of life, you mean,’ she said, sullenly. ‘However, I’m not helpless yet; I’ll open it myself.’

And sliding from the bed before I could hinder her, she crossed the room, walking very uncertainly, threw it back, and bent out, careless of the frosty air that cut about her shoulders as keen as a knife. I entreated, and finally attempted to force her to retire. But I soon found her delirious strength much surpassed mine (she was delirious, I became convinced by her subsequent actions and ravings). There was no moon, and everything beneath lay in misty darkness: not a light gleamed from any house, far or near all had been extinguished long ago: and those at Wuthering Heights were never visible—still she asserted she caught their shining.

‘Look!’ she cried eagerly, ‘that’s my room with the candle in it, and the trees swaying before it; and the other candle is in Joseph’s garret. Joseph sits up late, doesn’t he? He’s waiting till I come home that he may lock the gate. Well, he’ll wait a while yet. It’s a rough journey, and a sad heart to travel it; and we must pass by Gimmerton Kirk to go that journey! We’ve braved its ghosts often together, and dared each other to stand among the graves and ask them to come. But, Heathcliff, if I dare you now, will you venture? If you do, I’ll keep you. I’ll not lie there by myself: they may bury me twelve feet deep, and throw the church down over me, but I won’t rest till you are with me. I never will!’”

(Chapter 12)

Isabella:

“You’ll not be surprised, Ellen, at my feeling particularly cheerless, seated in worse than solitude on that inhospitable hearth, and remembering that four miles distant lay my delightful home, containing the only people I loved on earth; and there might as well be the Atlantic to part us, instead of those four miles: I could not overpass them!”

(Chapter 13)

Really I am once again appreciating Neslihan Cangöz for titling her feminist essay on Wuthering Heights in Turkish “Yüksek Yüksek Tepelere”. Brilliant choice of title.

[angelasscribbles]

A Fervid Fixation Chapter 7: Smolder

Series: A Fervid Fixation

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: Language

Word Count: 4,304

My other stuff: Master List.

“Fuck that was insane!” Riley laughed as she peered out the front window of the plane. She’d never sat in the cockpit before, but life with Drake was proving to be one adventure after the other.

“I’m just so fucking grateful you didn’t fall for his bullshit!” Drake let out a sigh of relief as Cordonia faded behind them.

Riley regarded him thoughtfully as she pondered rather or not to tell him that she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure about his innocence. She was fairly certain they had both been lying about parts of it.

She just preferred his lies to Liam’s.

She decided to change the subject instead, “Remember when you asked me if Liam had proposed on coronation night if I would have said yes?”

“I remember…”

“I would have said yes.”

His eyes slide sideways to take her in before returning to the instrument panel, “Why are you telling me this right now?”

“I would have said yes, and I would have married him. But only so I could have stayed in Cordonia, near you!”

He missed the switch he had been about to toggle as his eyes darted to her and had to make a second run at it, “What?”

“I didn’t understand why you were acting the way you were toward me, but I wasn’t giving up.”

“Not giving up? Riley, you acted like you hated me half of the time!”

“Look who’s talking,” she said wryly.

A short laugh broke out of him, “Okay, point taken!”

“But despite everything, here we are.” She reached across to rub his shoulder.

“Here we are,” he agreed.

“You’ve proven that you’ll never give up on me and I want you to know that I’ll never give up on you, either. We’re a team now!”

“Wait!” Drake’s head snapped toward her, “are we…are we talking about a relationship now? All I had to do was hijack an airplane and fight a battalion of King’s Guards to get you to discuss the future with me?”

“Hahaha,” she moved her hand back to her own lap, “But yes. I needed to know that you weren’t going to ice me out again before I let myself fully trust you. I think you’ve just proven your commitment to this relationship.”

Despite the fact that he had just committed felony theft of government property and possibly treason, Drake felt his heart soar and he convinced himself that everything was going to work out. “You just said we’re in a relationship.”

“Shut up and fly the plane, Walker.”

“Don’t change the subject! We’re a couple now! You have to start slipping love notes into my lunch bag or something.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why not? Isn’t that a thing that couples do?”

“It’s not a thing that I do! Have you ever known anyone that actually did shit like that?”

“My mom used to do it.”

“Give you love notes in your lunch bag?”

“No, not me. But my dad worked late a lot, so we had dinner without him pretty regularly. My mom always saved him a plate and if we were going to bed before he was going to be home, she’d wrap the plate in saran wrap and leave a note under it for him.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.”

“Yeah, it was kind of a joke between them. She was really bad at other forms of communication. Never answered the phone, didn’t respond to letters-“

“Probably because she was busy with you and your sister. I bet you were a real hellion.”

“You make a solid point. My point is that even though she didn’t do any of that other stuff, she always left that note under his plate when he was late.”

“Sounds like she loved him very much.”

“She did,” he agreed, “You wouldn’t do that for me?”

“No.”

“No?” he cried in mock indignation.

“Okay,” she laughed, “I’ll make a deal with you. If I’m ever preparing a meal for you that we’re not going to eat together, which by the way, is never going to happen because I don’t like to cook. Why the hell would I cook if we’re not even going to eat it together? If you have to work late, take out is a thing that exists. But if I did….then okay, I’ll leave you a damn note. Happy?”

“You make me happy,” He told her, “Note or no note.”

“Good! Because if you want love notes in your lunch, you have to start changing my oil and shit, right? Isn’t that a thing that couples do?”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, but that’s not the point. I want to know that if I had a car, you would change the oil for me!”

“Tell you what. I’ll buy you a car and then I’ll change the oil in it. How’s that?”

They continued their discussion about what people in relationships were supposed to do until they were circling an abandoned airstrip in Auvernall a scant forty-five minutes later. “We’re going to land here, off everyone’s radar. I have a friend who left a jeep nearby that we’ll use for transportation. I’ll keep in touch with my contacts back in Cordonia and if the airport isn’t safe, we’ll cross the border into Greece by train or on foot.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought this all through.”

His jaw clenched, “Yes, but not because I was planning to have to get you out of the country all along as Liam implied. I’ve always had an escape plan just in case.”

“Have things with Liam been that bad?”

He shook his head, “Never. We’ve always been close. But as I said, I’ve seen what happens to others who cross him and it’s always wise to have an exit strategy, even if you never need it.”

“Okay then.”

He put the plane down on the runway and brought it to a stop just outside the empty terminal. He glanced at his watch, “It’s almost nine p.m. local time, late enough for the darkness to give us some cover, early enough that it’s not suspicious to be out on the roads.”

Riley gazed at the distance between the plane and the runway, “How are we getting out?”

“Gravity,” he smirked at her.

“What about our luggage?” she asked as he opened the door.

“We’ll toss it down,” he told her since there was no landing ramp, “Then I’ll jump down after it, then you’ll jump, and I’ll catch you!”

The suitcases went first, followed by Drake. He landed on his feet, made a visual sweep of the area then looked back up and held his arms out, “Okay, it’s your turn!”

She took a deep breath and then leapt out of the plane, completely trusting in his ability to catch her.

She thudded into his arms, knocking him back, but he kept his feet under him as he caught her then lowered her to the ground, “Told you I’d catch you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He let himself get distracted by that kiss. He should have heard them sooner, but he was lost in the sweet ocean of bliss that was Riley Brooks.

The sound of boots on pavement penetrated his consciousness and he pulled his head away while tugging her body closer to him as he assessed the danger.

Auvernese soldiers melted out of the night and descended upon them, pulling them apart.

They reached for each other but to no avail.

Riley was pulled out of Drake’s grasp as she twisted her body around, trying to keep him in her sight.

“Riley! Riley!” He broke free and scrambled toward her, making it only a few feet before he was intercepted and wrestled to the ground. They zip-tied his hands behind his back as he struggled to get back up. A rifle butt struck him in the back of his head. Riley screaming his name was the last thing he heard before waking up in a jail cell.

“But….we don’t have an extradition treaty with Auvernall,” Drake sat in an eight by eight cell holding his aching head in his hands.

“We do now,” Liam said cooly as he adjusted his cufflinks without a care in the world. As if he hadn’t just imprisoned his lifelong best friend in a jail cell.

“How?” Auvernall and Cordonia had been trying unsuccessfully to come to terms for years.

“I signed a betrothal agreement with Auvernall. My firstborn child will marry one of the Achilles twins.”

“You don’t have a firstborn child!”

“Not yet,” Liam gave him a victorious grin, “But I’m confident Riley can help me with that.”

“No!” Drake yelled as Liam turned and exited the cellblock, “No!”

“Riley, come on love. Please. You have to eat something!” Liam pleaded. He was perplexed by her behavior. It had been two weeks and she was still being truculent and unreasonable.

“I don’t want anything to eat, Liam,” she glared at him from her seat by the window, her food untouched on the small table across the room, “and I want out of this fucking place!”

“The palace?” he asked in surprise, “is something not to your liking? I can have the kitchen make whatever you want. Or is it the room? Would you like a bigger one? Just tell me what you need!”

“It may be a palace, but it’s a fucking prison for me, isn’t it?”

“Of course not!”

“So, I can leave? Call a car around and go to the airport right now?”

“Riley, it’s not safe yet! I’m still investigating-“

“Right.” She turned away from him to stare out across the palace grounds.

Liam sat down behind her, his hand brushing the hair from her neck, “Please tell me what I can do to make you happy.”

“I want to see Drake.”

Liam sighed, “Why, Riley? What purpose would it serve?”

“I need to make sure he’s all right!”

“He’s fine,” Liam dropped his hands away from her body and stood up, “You still believe in his innocence?”

“Yes.”

“I have something to show you.”

Liam knocked softly on Riley’s door. It was late and he hoped he wasn’t waking her.

“Come in,” she called.

It had been a month since her little escapade with Drake and he was sure she was starting to come around. “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”

“I have,” Riley sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair.

“And?”

He had broken his engagement with Madeleine. Tariq had publicly cleared her name. His father was dead, and all his objections to this union with him. All the obstacles between them had been removed.

All but one.

She laid the brush carefully on the table in front of her and turned to face him, “I want to say yes, Liam, but I have conditions.”

“Name them!” He bent down and grasped her hands in his, bringing them to his mouth to drop kisses along the backs of them.

“I want to see Drake-“

Liam dropped her hands and jolted back, “Why? I thought we had put this to rest! He-“

Riley stood up and placed her hands on his shoulders, “If you’ll listen!”

“Okay….”

“I want to tell him about the engagement personally.”

Liam watched her face, looking for traces of deception. He was hesitant to grant her request but eager to put a ring on her finger. “If you go, I’m coming with you!”

“That’s fine,” she replied serenely as she retook her seat and picked up the hairbrush, “Set it up. Once the visit is accomplished, we can make an official announcement to the world.”

“I’ll arrange a visit for tomorrow morning!” He promised.

“Thank you,” she resumed brushing her hair, “Please close the door on your way out.”

“Hey! Wake up!” The guard banged on the bars of his cell.

Drake lifted his head and looked around, “Riley!” He was on his feet in an instant.

She smiled at him, and he was sure he was dreaming. She was even more beautiful than he remembered and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

Then Liam stepped up next to her and his heart plummeted. But what had he expected? Liam was never going to let her wander down to the cells alone.

He was lucky he hadn’t been summarily convicted and executed and he knew it. Liam had probably been too busy working overtime to sway Riley back to his side to fast-track his murder trial.

“What do you want?” He stepped away from the bars, pretending that the sight of her didn’t set his heart on fire.

“We’re here to inform you of our engagement,” Liam wrapped an arm around Riley and pulled her closer to his body.

Drake’s eyes were guarded as they flicked from one to the other, “So?”

“So, I’ve shown her the security footage from the airport office. She knows what you did.”

“Videos can be faked,” Drake said with a shrug. His eyes locked on Riley’s, “and Liam has access to the best cyber experts. It’s called a deep fake, look it up.”

“She’s not buying your lies anymore. Right, love?”

Riley finally spoke, “Drake, do you remember in the plane I told you that if Liam had proposed to me at the coronation, I would have said yes?”

His eyes dropped to the floor in defeat, “I remember.”

“Do you remember everything I said after that?”

His head snapped up and his eyes locked on hers again, hope that he didn’t dare show surging through him, “Yes.”

She smiled at him again and his heart nearly exploded. Her voice betrayed no emotion as she said, “Then you understand.”

“Come on love, let’s go.” Liam guided her away from the cell.

She glanced back one last time, “And Drake?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll see about getting you some correspondence in here. I remember you saying how much you liked your mother’s notes.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll be looking for them.”

“Turn it off!” The prisoner yelled as he hurled the book he’d been reading across the room to smack into the TV screen.

The guard on duty glanced up at the screen where the king was announcing his engagement, “It’s just a press conference. What’s your problem?”

“His problem is he’s the psycho who kidnapped her and tried to smuggle her out of the country!” the second guard answered, “why do you think he’s in here?”

“I heard he murdered one of you!” one of the other prisoners in the dayroom interjected with a maniacal laugh.

“Shut your pie hole, Trotter!” The first guard admonished, “Or you’ll go back to your cell!”

“Okay, fine!” Trotter threw his hands up in the air, “I was just saying. He also beat the crap out of that duke over her!” He jabbed his finger in the air toward the flat screen hanging on the wall.

“I know that guy claimed he was totally at fault,” the second guard said, “Unwanted advance or whatever, but I heard he was coerced by the king to lie.”

“Why would the king do that?” the first guard asked.

“Have you seen her?” the second guard leered, “And I heard she’s a real wildcat in the sack!”

Drake launched himself at the guard, tackling him to the ground before he had a chance to react. All the rage he had been unable to unleash since finding himself locked up combined with the helplessness he’d felt watching her with Liam during their visit the day before boiled over as he attacked the guard with ruthless vigor.

“Shit!” the first guard yelled as he fumbled with his walkie-talkie to summon backup before attempting to pull the prisoner off his compatriot. Something he wasn’t able to accomplish until backup arrived.

“Goddamn it, Walker!” the first guard panted as he finally got the cuffs on him, “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that!”

“Okay, okay,” the guard chuckled as he pulled the prisoner to his feet, “you must have a burning desire to see the inside of solitary confinement. Let’s go!”

Drake smiled back at the guard that was being helped to his feet. He’d spend a day or two in solitary for the assault but he didn’t care. It had been worth it.

“What are you up to today, my love?” Liam greeted her with a kiss before sitting down to breakfast.

“Exploring the palace!” she replied enthusiastically.

“Really?” he was pleased with the turn her disposition had taken. She was happy again. The spring was back in her step and the sparkle was back in her eyes. She was once again the girl he had fallen in love with.

She was finally over Drake; he was sure of it.

“Are you sure? I could have the driver take you into town if you wanted.”

“No thank you,” she smiled at him, “I discovered a second library yesterday! It’s a little dusty, but there are hardcover first editions in there of some of my favorite authors!”

Liam smiled as she prattled on about books. Offering to let her go into town had been a test and she had passed. She no longer wished to leave the palace. Drake had failed to poison her against him.

After breakfast, Liam headed to his office while Riley spent a few hours in the small forgotten library in the east wing, pouring over old palace blueprints. There were so many secret passageways. She wondered if Liam was aware of them all.

Just before lunch, she wandered into the kitchen. Plucking a grape from a bowl of fruit on a marble countertop, she sauntered over to where an attractive younger woman was preparing food.

“Hey, Siobhan,” Riley greeted her.

“Hello, Your Grace,” Siobhan blushed at the attention.

“I told you, call me Riley!”

“Yes, Your-Riley.” Siobhan’s flush deepened from pink to crimson under the queen in waiting’s gaze.

“Working on lunch for the prisoners again?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to-“

“Nonsense! I have nothing better to do and I enjoy food preparation. It reminds me of summers with my grandmother,” Riley told her as she started measuring out the pasta into containers, checking the names on the trays against any food allergies as Siobhan had taught her on one of her previous visits.

“Okay, then, I do enjoy the company,” the younger woman gave Riley a shy smile as she turned to stir the sauce.

The two women chatted amicably as they worked. The rest of the kitchen staff had grown accustomed to the queen in waiting’s presence during the hour before lunch was served and they no longer paid any attention to it, focusing on their own work instead.

Siobhan sighed as she watched Riley slip discreetly out a side entrance. She quite enjoyed her company and was still a bit astounded that someone in her position would hang around to help with food preparation. Especially for prisoners.

Of course, she never stayed long. She was always gone before the guard came to collect the food trays.

“Hey, Bruno,” Riley looked up from the book she’d been reading when the older guard popped in to check on her.

The closer it crept to the wedding, the more cautious Liam became with her safety. That’s how it was worded to the guards anyway.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know a Lt. Jason Toussaint?”

“The guy in cyber security? I don’t really know him. Why?”

“No reason,” she kept her voice neutral as she dropped her eyes back to the pages of her book.

Jason Toussaint was alone in his room when a sealed envelope slid under his door. He opened the door and looked up and down the hallway but whoever had left it was gone.

He closed the door and opened the envelope.

“Meet me in the hedge maze at midnight.”

“So, you do exist,” she greeted the blonde soldier that stood in front of her.

“I exist.” He eyed her suspiciously. She was the reason his friend was sitting in a jail cell.

“How far are you willing to go to help Drake? Because I have an idea…”

“I’m listening…”

A sealed envelope was slipped under her door at the prearranged time. Liam was tied up in meetings all day.

She was alone but she locked herself in her bathroom as a precaution as she rifled through the contents.

In her hands was proof that Constantine was in fact behind the setup and Liam knew. Emails, payoffs, and orders to redact statements and seal documents.

She couldn’t use any of it. She couldn’t expose Jason, who had only held onto his job after she had spoken his name to Liam because he had not done anything other than answer a superior officer’s questions about his employment status.

Not that any of it mattered. So, what if the previous king had set her up? He was dead and the scandal had been resolved in her favor. No one would care and Liam was above the law even if he had broken one, which he hadn’t.

She couldn’t get caught with it either. That would derail everything.

She had just wanted to be sure.

She peeked out to make sure no one was in her room before making her way to the fireplace and tossing the contents into the flames.

“Liam, are all these guards really necessary?”

“Yes, my love. They’re here to protect you.”

“From what?”

“Anything. Everything! I have enemies. Being a public figure puts you automatically at risk. There are crazy people in the world, Riley. You should know that. You’ve already been kidnapped once.”

“Indeed, I have…” she mused as she looked at him, “When you put it that way, I’m not sure I feel safe even in the palace!”

“That’s what the guards are for.”

“I’d feel better if I had something to protect myself with…just in case.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know…pepper spray, a stun gun, something!”

“All right,” he acquiesced, “if it will make you feel better, I’ll get you a stun gun and Mara can teach you some self-defense moves if you’d like.”

She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, “Yes, I’d like that very much. Thank you!”

“Hey, I haven’t seen you before. Where’s Fred?” the guard called to the unfamiliar janitor waiting to be buzzed in to clean the dayroom.

“He called in sick,” the man replied, “They sent me to fill in.”

The guard eyed him up and down. He had on the coveralls of the janitorial staff and the proper ID badge hanging from his pocket. His eyes took in the name and photo then went back to the man’s face. Everything checked out. “All right. Go on in. But be quick!”

“Yes, sir!” The janitor shook his head vigorously to indicate understanding.

“What the fuck is this?” the guard manning the security feed asked as he thumped the panel.

“What is what?”

“The feed just flickered off and back on.”

The guard that had buzzed the janitor in peered at the screen. The guy was mopping the floor. He decided to go check on him just in case.

He opened the door and scanned the room.

The janitor looked up, “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Just hurry up! You’ve got ten minutes! You have to be out of here before we bring the prisoners in for their TV time.”

“Okay, boss!”

Ten minutes later he had completed his task and was standing next to the guard station as the prisoners were escorted, single file, into the day room.

The guards buzzed him through the door. He glanced back over his shoulder just before it closed behind him.

Drake looked up at the sound of the door buzzing just in time to see a man step through and glance back. His eyes locked on Jason Toussaint dressed as a janitor for a brief instant before the guard shoved him through the dayroom door.

The notes had started arriving taped to the bottom of his plate. They were small scraps of paper, with short messages. The first one had simply said, “Not safe to respond. Working on a plan.”

Subsequent notes ranged from “I love you” to “keep your head up” and then pieces of a plan began to arrive, one scrap of paper at a time. Until one day a keycard showed up with a note that simply read, “tonight.”

“Have you enjoyed your visit, Lady Hana?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I have! It’s been so good catching up with you and Riley both!” Hana threw her arms around Liam and hugged him.

He chuckled as he hugged her back, “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?”

“As much as I’d love that, my mother’s birthday is next week and I have to get home and oversee the party preparations. But I’ll be back for the wedding!”

“Very well. You know you’re welcome here anytime.” It wasn’t that he had an overriding fondness for his former suitor, it was more that she made his fiancée happy, and keeping Riley happy was crucial to getting her down the aisle.

Once the marriage was accomplished, he would be able to relax. She was going to love the private island he’d picked for their honeymoon and with any luck, she’d come back pregnant.

She had been keeping him at arm’s length citing traditional American wedding customs, apparently, abstinence in the weeks before the wedding made the wedding night itself more intense and promoted marital bonding or something.

He was getting impatient. If not for Cordonian customs and council requirements, he would have dispensed with all the pageantry and eloped with her.  

The wedding was two weeks away.

Everything was going to be fine.

[f0rever15elf]

Should Have Listened

Pairing: Frank Castle x  F!Reader Word Count: 2,968 Rating: M Warnings: Swearing, canon typical violence, death mention, guns, knives, reader in danger, reader gets hurt,  no y/n 

Summary: He told you not to go out tonight. You really should have listened. Now, you have to hope he’ll find you before it’s too late

A/N: I’m back. Sorta. Its been a rough go, I hope you like this! 

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Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

He told you not to go out; told you that tonight was going to be a dangerous one, and that you needed to stay home with blinds drawn and doors locked. Don’t open the door for anyone. Don’t make a noise and keep the glock on your nightstand within arms reach with a round in the chamber. He didn’t tell you why. He never had to, and it was better if he didn’t. To know too much is dangerous. To be known too much is dangerous. And normally, you listened. He never had to repeat himself with you, you took him at face value. He never had to worry about you for that exact reason. You listened.

But today of all days, you chose not to.  

The cheap plastic of the burner phone whines and cracks under Frank’s grip as the line goes dead, cutting off your muffled cries. They had gotten you. You had broken his one rule for tonight, and they had taken full advantage and nabbed you before you could make it to the end of your street. And now, you’re somewhere he doesn’t know, tied and gagged and tortured with a ransom on your head. You’re nothing more than a bargaining chip to them, something they know has ultimate leverage over The Punisher.

Frank sees red, turning around with a yell to shove all of the papers and documents off the steel table, everything crashing to the ground. His shoulders heave with the force of his breaths as the plan for the night gets tossed out the window. Well, perhaps not entirely, but the primary objective has sure as hell changed, and the stakes have never been higher.

After a few moments to pull himself together, Frank Castle gets to work.

“I’m comin’ for ya, baby girl. Just hold on for me.”

Everything hurts. Your throat is raw from crying and screaming. Your limbs are stiff and aching from the zip ties that dig into your skin. Your head pounds, the welt on the back of your head from the butt of your captor’s gun throbbing with every single beat of your heart. The salt from your tears stings the abrasions on your face and all you want is to go home.

They had taken you very nearly from your own doorstep. You hadn’t even seen them coming, the butt of the gun connecting with the back of your head plunging you into darkness. When you came to, you were tied up, bouncing around on the cold metal floor of the panel van as they took you to God only knew where. A bag had been put over your head, your mouth taped shut, and the second you started to move, a swift kick to your ribs forced the air from your lungs and had you still as you curled up around yourself, tears welling in your eyes.

Frank would be so disappointed.

From there, they had dragged you into what you could only assume was their safe house, freeing your wrists for only a moment before they cinched you down to a metal chair. The bag was yanked from your head, leaving you blinking and blinded by the fluorescent light shining in your eyes before the tape was unceremoniously ripped from your lips. A hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back and you could feel the cold bite of a blade’s edge pressing against your neck. All you could taste was fear.

“Aren’t you just a pretty little thing?” murmured a voice like ice right next to your ear. The whimper that left your lips bordered on pitiful as a tear traced down your cheek. “No wonder you’re Frank Castle’s kryptonite.”

“Please. Please just let me go.”

“Oh, c’mon now. You know exactly why I can’t do that.” The blade pressed harder into against your throat, the sting of skin breaking sending panic racketing through your body. “I need you to get to Frank. Because you see,” The blade pulled away as your head was let go and your captor came into view. A sniveling snake of a man with beady black eyes and a crooked smile that maked your skin crawl. “Frankie and I have a little bit a… rivalry… going on. And I need to guarantee my safety. And what better way to do that, than to jeopardize the safety of the one thing in this world that The Punisher cares about?” Your bottom lip trembled as you realized you were on borrowed time at this point.

“He’ll find me,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Now, why don’t we make a call? Give your Frankie some motivation?”

It’s been hours now. Or maybe only a few minutes. It’s hard to tell when your entire existence is pain. Gregor, as you’ve come to learn is your captor’s name, has let his men take turns smacking you around, keeping you crying and aching. It’s nothing personal, dear, he’d say. Just enough to make sure Frank is good and riled when he shows up. So distressed he wouldn’t be able to think straight.

At this point, consciousness slowly slips in and out of your grasp. The second they see you start to fade, though, it’s another kick in the shin or nick to your arm or cheek. They want you awake. They want you making noise. They want you to be a distraction.

But these men don’t know Frank Castle.

It takes him so much longer to find you than he had hoped. He’d grabbed every weapon he could, strapping up before getting into his van and heading for the warehouses on the edge of the city he’d learned the gang was using as a hide out. That’s where you would be, he knows it. Because you’re bait. And there’s no use setting bait if the prey can’t find the trap. The steering wheel protests under his grip.

The lights are off outside when he arrives, but he can see the vans parked by the garage door. The same vans he’s been tailing for weeks. You’re in there, no doubt about it, and the very thought of that has his blood running hot in his veins. Frank Castle has lost so much in this life, and he isn’t about to lose you too. There’s a bullet in the chamber, inscribed with the name of the bastard who decided to put your life at risk.

Your hand is throbbing, the last bastard to rough you up electing to break a finger and now it’s swelling around the ring Frank had given you on your first year anniversary. Tears are streaming down your face and you’ve never wished so strongly for an end to come for you before. Where is Frank? Why hasn’t he found you yet? Had he… forgotten about you? Left you to suffer for breaking his one and only rule? Is this your punishment?

The lights cut out, plunging the warehouse into darkness, and it’s a welcome reprieve from the blinding light shining in your face. There’s a heartbeat of silence before all hell breaks loose. The pain down to your very soul blurs the cacophony of screams and gunfire into an unholy nightmare of disorientation. Until the blade presses back against your neck. You cry out, clenching your eyes closed as you wait for it to bite hard enough to end your suffering. You welcome it at this point. Anything to stop the pain.

After a few minutes, the gunfire stops, the warehouse left silent as the death that now fills it, save for your echoing sobs.

“That’s it, girl. Keep it up just like that.” There’s a smile in his voice that makes you want to retch. The blade nips at the skin of your neck, the salt of your sweat stinging the wound.

“If ya know what’s good for you, you’ll take your filthy hands off a her!” It’s Frank’s voice, gruff and furious echoing through the warehouse. It’s welcome, oh so welcome, but it’s so hard to feel the rush of relief with cold steel pressing against your pulse point. A breath away from death.

“Now where’s the fun in that, Frankie?” your captor calls. You can feel his hand trembling on your shoulder. “You’re little flame here has been keeping us quite company.”

You can’t see him. He’s there, you know it. You know he’s waiting just behind a corner in the shadows, waiting for the shot to open. Waiting to get you out of here.

“I swear to every god out there, you lay one more fuckin’ hand on her, I’ll make you wish you’d died back in the docks explosion, you slimy son of a bitch.”

Cold breath tickles your ear as he laughs behind you, the blade pulling away from your neck. “She’s got a pretty voice you know! Sounds so nice when she’s begging for mercy. Isn’t that right pretty?” The blade comes down along the top of your hand, dragging a gash through the skin and you scream and sob through the gag, pulling at your binds. “See? Just like a little bird. Now come out and play, Frankie!”

“You son of a bitch,” Frank whispers, hands tensing around the rifle in his hands as the sounds of your screams turn his blood to ice. He doesn’t have a clear shot, the rat of a man hiding behind you like the coward he is. His mind is running a mile a minute, your cries echoing off of the walls turning the edges of his vision red.

“Come out, come out Frankie, or I might just keep one of these pretty fingers for myself.”

Think, Castle, think.

Dark, calculating eyes flick around the room when he sees his chance. The switch box on the wall behind you. He levels the barrel on the box, breathes in, and on the exhale squeezes the trigger. The box explodes in a shower of sparks, two screams echoing through the cavernous space. The barrel shifts down and to the left. Another inhale, another exhale, another squeeze of the trigger and the body hits the floor, lifeless, a backdrop of sparks around him like some morbid fanfare.

There’s a heartbeat, and Frank drops the gun, sprinting around the corner to your side. Christ, you look a mess, battered and broken, tears staining your face. But the worst are your eyes. Terrified and in pain, like a caged animal. Frank doesn’t even think as he snaps out his knife, cutting your binds before reaching up to take off your gag.

“I gotcha. It’s alright, I gotcha. I gotcha.” Frank pulls you into his arms oh so gently, cradling you to his strong and sturdy chest, and for the first time tonight, everything feels like it’s going to be alright. “I gotcha, you’re gonna be alright.”

The last thing you recall before the darkness that had flirted with you all night finally consumes you, is being hoisted into Frank’s arms as he coos soft words of comfort to you in that deep voice you would happily sleep in forever.

The warm light of the sun falls across your face, soft and gentle. But that’s all that soft and gentle. Your whole body aches, and it hurts to even so much as breathe. The first sounds out of your mouth as you come to are whimpers, small and pathetic.

“Easy there sweetheart, easy.” One big, gun calloused hand takes your tenderly while the other comes to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. “You’re ’ight. You’re safe and at home. You’re safe.” Your eyes flutter open as his thumb traces lightly across your cheek.

“Frank?” Your voice is raspy and dry from the abuse, and even something as simple as his name causes it to burn.

“I’m right here, I’m right here. I gotcha outta there. None of them are gonna lay a finger on ya ever again.” Your hand tightens around his as you try to move to sit up, but every fiber of your being screams in agony.

“’m sorry,” you manage out in a whimper.

“Hey. Hey hey hey, don’t do that. Don’t. This isn’t your fault, ya hear?” His hand moves to your shoulder, pushing you gently back down to the bed.

“I left.” The tears keep brimming, slowly spilling over your cheeks though Frank does his best to wipe them away. They soak through the bandages on your cheeks, stinging at the cleaned cuts. “You said not to and I still did.”

“What happened to you ain’t your fault, sweetheart, a’ight? It was them. Those bastards at the warehouse. An’ I took care of ‘em.” He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I took care of ‘em all. None of ‘em are gonna hurt ya ever again. I promise.”

The gentle resolve in his voice finally has the damn bursting, and a sob tightens your chest as you roll to face him. He shushes you gently, shifting you over just enough to crawl into bed beside you before gathering you into his arms oh so carefully, delicately avoiding every injury he can. The slight jostling draws another soft whimper from your lips, but he quickly assuages the pain with gentle kiss over the crown of your head.

The way you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you afloat in this world has his heart breaking. You’ve seen him like this, battered and broken. You’ve seen it so many times. But to see you like this…. He wonders for a moment if this anguish, this fear is what you feel every time he walks out that door. And if it is…, well, then you’re the strongest person he knows to deal with that day in and day out and not so much as utter a word beyond ‘come back to me.’

Frank closes his eyes, his hold on you tightening just a touch, careful to not cause you any more pain. He fights back the tears that start to sting the corners of his eyes while one hand caresses your back lightly in soothing circles. The fact of the matter is that last night, he almost lost you. If he had been just a few minutes later, he might have been too late. If he made one wrong move in that warehouse, he might be listening to your last words over an over in his dreams. He might have been cradling a corpse instead of your unconscious body on his way back out to the van. He might be living the worst day of his life all over again.

Your whimper of pain draws him from he dark reverie, and his arms loosen from where the dark thoughts had tightened them around you. “’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” You pull away from him just enough to look up at him with glassy eyes brimming with concern, and he melts. To be concerned for him when you’re laying here in pain. You really do have a heart of gold.

“Where did you go, just now?” you whisper, managing to mostly hide the wince that accompanies your reach up to brush your fingertips along his jaw.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says softly back, voice low and gravely.

“Yeah it does. Cause you were upset. What was it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, watching you with glassy eyes. Before he finally responds, he takes a deep, steadying breath. “I was thinkin’ about how I coulda lost ya. I almost didn’t make it in time. I-”

You’re quick to cut him off. “But you did.”

“Nah, nah, don’t do that.”

“But you did make it in time.” He goes to open his mouth to protest again until you shift your fingers from caressing his jaw to covering his lips. “I’m here, with you, because of you. You saved me, Frank Castle.”

“I’m also the reason you’re in this mess,” he mutters as he reaches up with one big hand to move yours from his lips.

“If me getting kidnapped doesn’t get to be my fault, then my kidnappers taking me doesn’t get to be your fault.”

“Sweetheart-”

“No, don’t sweetheart your way outta this one, okay? Bad people took me, and you saved me. And you bandaged me and took care of me…. Frank, you saved me, okay?”

He’s quiet again for a few minutes, just watching you. When he does speak up, it’s barely a whisper. “I can’t lose you. I can’t do that. I just can’t.”

“You didn’t lose me, you won’t lose me. I’m here, and I have no plans on going anywhere anytime soon. I promise you that. You’re stuck with me, Frankie.” That earns a chuckle and that lopsided smile that you love so much, and your heart flutters behind your bruised ribs. “Now what’s an injured girl gotta do to get a kiss from her savior around here?”

“Baby girl, I’ll give you all the kisses you want. C’mere.” He reaches up to cradle your jaw before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, mindful of the split.

When he pulls away, you whine again, but this time in upset from the kiss ending, and Frank just chuckles. “If I didn’t feel like I’ve been run over by a semi, twice, I’d be tearing those clothes off of your body right now.”

“Promises, promises,” he hums, leaning back in to kiss you again.

You’re right. He knows you’re right. You’re here, with him, safe and recovering, and every motherfucker who touched you is dead and gone. And in Frank Castle’s world, that’s a win. And he will take every win he can get.

Taglist:  @dopeqff  @phoenixhalliwell  @booksandlatenights @heressss-jordan @mstgsmy @haley-the-comet @toomanystoriessolittletime @wardenparker​

[cottoncandy-cult]

He Sees You Cry (ZFBFS)

Today had been a stressful day for (Y/n), it all started with bad intel. The time she was given was an hour late, she caught the guy while he was drinking on the back porch. The entrance she was told to use. This resulted in a fist fight, one she was losing until she pushed him into the pool and shot him. She got complained at by the clean-up crew, even though it wasn't her fault. She came home sore and frustrated, and now as she walks through the front door, she sees Zack on the couch. So, to top it off not only was she embarrassed that he saw her in such a state, her pride also hurt terribly because of it.

She was almost vibrating with how hard she shook, Zack looked at her with surprise and quickly moved to stand up. He was shocked and silent for a second, he was actually rather concerned but couldn't find the words he needed until he spit out a "What the fuck happened?!" And that's when it broke, or rather she did. Zack was in a panic as she started sobbing, freezing up as his (H/c) haired girlfriend rushed past him and to her room. For once Zack was in thought, he himself felt a whirlwind of emotions. Anger towards whatever did this to his girlfriend and towards himself, for not going with her on these jobs. Before he knew it, he heard the bathroom door close, (Y/n) no doubt taking a shower. He grabbed his phone and stepped outside to make a call, meanwhile (Y/n) sat on her shower bench under the hot water.

Her bathroom was beautiful, and the shower was of large size, the tub was on the other side of the bathroom. The shower head was directly above, glass panels surrounding the shower and keeping the steam contained. Something about the atmosphere made her calmer, her father insisted on this type of shower as well as the bench in case she got injured. It had come in handy quite often, especially now. She moved to lay on her stomach, hot water raining down on her back and body as she closed her eyes and pretended to be in some far away hot spring. She had cried heavily for a few minutes, now she was all cried out but still her pride and body hurt. She let her mind drift to Zack, she knew she's probably worried him greatly. He was still learning how to deal with his own emotions, she probably just scared the hell out of him. That made a small breathy laugh escape from her, and after a few more minutes spent soaking in the heat she began to get up.

She reached up onto the shelf that held her shower stuff, being slow and deliberate with every step. Even when drying off, she spent a few minutes sat and wrapped in a towel on the edge of the tub. Once she was in her sweatpants and tank top the young woman padded off to her room, which to her surprise was lit by "candles", because of Zack's fear of fire they used only one scented candle in the living room and when they were having a date night, they used battery powered tea lights. Zack was sat on the bed; he was in his boxers and a tank top. On the bed in front of him was her favorite pizzas and sides, even some cookies and a few bottles of wine. He had managed to pull up her favorite show on TV, starting at episode 1. When she had gone to shower, he called her overseer and got the run down, turns out the guy who chewed her out had been reported by the medic who was checking on her.

He then ended up calling her dad, the old man telling him what all to do to try and soothe her. Now he sat quietly and watched her crawl into bed, she had immediately nestled into his side and hugged his arm. That made him chuckle a little, leaning his head against her's with a sigh. "Your overseer told me everything, so don't worry. That bastard is gonna get his." He smirked down to her, making her laugh and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks Zack... I really needed this." Her words were soft but still he heard her, so he pressed play on the tv and began opening up the various food boxes. She knew he probably had help from her father, but that didn't matter to her. She was just glad to have someone who cared enough to even bother getting help, Zack could have just let it go and left her alone. There was a reason he was her favorite angel.

[crackedramblings]

Notes from 6.4.24

I dreamed about Dolly Parton. In the dream, I was involved with a group that she was a panel member on. I remember someone was trying to get her involvement to write a new song, or something like that. I felt it was disrespectful to her artistic process, but she was gracious about it and said she'd be happy to help.

IRL, hope springs eternal. I hope CA's dream is representative of the truth. There are so many weird conspiracy theories going around about the end times (I read too many conspiracy forums I guess). But that's been true since I was a kid and we're all still here. If I heard about the three days of darkness again, IDK. I might scream. Now they think the eclipse will trigger some major earthquakes over here. Which, may in fact happen because it's been 200 years or whatever since a big one where I live and we're due. Sometimes I wonder if this focus on waiting for the end is keeping me from actually living. But then I remember what my life was like when I was 'living' (aka working a job) and I like waiting better.

Yesterday was all over the place emotionally. In the morning I was irritated af because I agreed to go grocery shopping with hubs. I did NOT want to go. But I said I would, so whatever. We got it over with. In the afternoon/evening I was starting to feel some energy; I started thinking "I could start over if I wanted. Move to a new state. Work a crap job and earn enough to pay to rent a room somewhere." But then I remembered the crap jobs I've worked and how miserable I was. I'm just one big blob of moods and emotions anymore. I've cried randomly based on made up scenarios in my head several times lately.

I felt some energy probing me last night. Not sure what that was about. It was prickly and slightly uncomfortable. I felt it in my back especially. And whoever/whatever it was, or even if it was just me, I told it to stop being irritating. But I didn't have any fear.

I don't even really want to type this out, in case I jinx it, but I will. I've started seeing things changing. I don't mean I'm seeing glitches in the matrix. But in the attitudes and viewpoints of certain people I follow, certain forums I read. It seems as if there's a shift underway toward points of view that are more aligned with how I feel. It doesn't really even matter whether I'm right or wrong, or even what I believe or don't. It's just significant (to me) that I feel my environment is starting to reflect back to me in certain ways the opinions I hold, which are fairly niche. Maybe it's something, maybe it's nothing. We'll see.

[lauvra]

I quietly reeled it in but haven't yet sat to pull twine from the part of my mind that has taken a sentinel roll wetting itself out in the world this week and it's been an eventful one. I'm a little worried what didn't sink in but I'll recall what I can. Xiao Lu, photographer and performance artist working between Sydney and Beijing had her first Melbourne installation on Friday at Mars Gallery on the same night as Melbourne based Artist Emil Canita and admittedly Lu's installation 'The Dignity of Remembering' came as a pleasant surprise to me. I was really moved by her work, fell into it in a sensory way and felt my heart open when she said she hoped her work helped people to understand her a little better because it felt like permission. I almost cried because it was such an honest thing for any Artist to admit. At least, I thought so. I'm intending to travel back and give it the attention I couldn't offer wholly that day though because I turned up to Mars to see a Gloryhole, knowing it would be an event to remember. It was. The building overflowed with the most playfully dressed, beautiful cliques and Ruby said this was the biggest opening night she'd seen in her time at the gallery. We all took a breather outside while Emil shared a statement upstairs nestled tight with his community. For a bit of information, he shared he was raped as a child and this naturally impacted his capacity for 'play' during sexual experiences into adulthood, through a journey with EMDR therapy he began experiencing vivid dreams and during one he owned a Gloryhole. He acted on this dream and began operating one within his northside apartment during Covid where he tended to (I heard) 800+ cocks and was a sole source of tenderness for many straight-identifying men during that time. Some of these men consented to being photographed and there was a four hour video - the echoes of which carried gently through the gallery during the owner's address to Xiao's work - from 19 men who were willing to be part of the project, then the Gloryhole itself; a thin wood panel wall with basic supports and a rectangular cutout at it's centre at the centre of the room. A series of framed photographs also hung on the wall upon which Emil wrote about whoever was in the picture, what they did for one another and what was shared. As an observer, it was difficult for me as a small straight-appearing female to manoeuvre through the crowds to read every piece without succumbing to the sensory input of the room and realising I've been staring meaningfully at a warmly saturated photograph of a cock or asshole and barely absorbing any of the words scrawled overtop. Part of my experience was that I felt intrusive. It was a really intimate experience and when another curator, Angela kept me company up there I said the thing that immediately struck me was how we could all just walk directly through the door into this moment of vulnerability and intimacy, when it takes an entire life to get there then a laborious act to draw out the softness in a man to be willing to say things he's never said. Some of these people were married and living double lives. That level of honesty is my favourite aspect of physical intimacy and of Art, it's what I realise so many of my experiences lacked and I've been abstinent because I wont tolerate anything less and I shame my Art when it lacks this also. I walked away with a new understanding that there were experiences through the lens of the male lived experience I'd never understand; but that I didn't judge it. When we were outside with our warm glasses of wine I thought, then said; 'I could be a little more tender," that's a realisation I step away from artworks with often lately. I love men. I believe in the healing powers of fellatio and authentic connection between consenting adults and I really didn't mean to make a post this long only about Emil Canita's 'At First I Was Afraid' exhibit but it was not some shallow point of view or easy attention grab and I plan to go back during quiet hours to read those stories more thoughtfully.

[katastronoot]

WIP WEDNESDAY (NOW ITS FRIDAY HAHA)

Tagged by: @friend-of-giants and @hannahcbrown thanks you guys!!!

I don’t have any art right now so here’s a little snippet from my novel :)

Briartown has always been her home. She was not born here, no. But her life began in this little village. Simple stone cottages with mud-colored roofs lined the gravel roads, all family-owned businesses. A few nymphs owned the town’s bakery, a faun by the name of Rigolo ran the library, there was the blacksmith Charlie—a stone golem, and all sorts of monsters and humans sold goods in the marketplace square every morning. When the sun went down, the nocturnal residents would gather. Chatting and enjoying the friendly company they shared while others would head to the inns and taverns. With the village neighboring the capital, many travelers stayed here overnight during their trek to the big city.

The ring-necked pheasant shifted into the small, framed woman, landing swiftly from the air to the soggy ground. She often wondered why the goddess blessed her with her bird. Perhaps it was because the first meat she consumed was pheasant, but she would never know for sure. Neither of her parents were around to ask.

After barely avoiding a blackout spell and traveling from the capital, she could use a good long rest. Her bird was not the strongest of flyers. Long distances taxed her body more than she would have liked.

A wooden door creaked roughly on its hinges while smells of stew and hand-crafted honeyed mead filled the air. Her stomach growled on cue; starting to feel the effect of not eating earlier, but it was still the better alternative than becoming deathly ill after consuming raw meats. There were a few tables in the room, most of them being completely empty. An old man slumped over passed out in the corner while a patron or two sat with a late-night meal. The atmosphere was quiet. Simple and plain.

The orc barkeeper gave her a nod in greeting, she threw a smile back as she rounded the counter and walked towards the staircase behind the bar. At the last step there was a brown paneled door with a sign hung that read Tawny’s Mug and Tonic. Intricately carved designs rested in the knob handle. Once she placed her palm on the cool metal, the markings glowed a soft teal blue and the lock clicked open.

The sensation was as if traveling to a different world. Laughter rang out in every direction. A bard was seated in the corner strumming on a lute while singing drunken tales about debauched maidens. A few men stood in the training area, sparring with a set of steel daggers. Their grunts and growls soon turned to howls of victory and pats on the back. Cheers cried out in satisfaction as bets were placed and gold was traded. Her stomach rumbled when she smelled the fresh tavern food that flew from the kitchen. Meat, mash, stew, cheeses, fruits, baked pies, and other desserts were plated and handed out by the women working the serving shift for the night. A few patrons gave Mira a pat on the back in greeting or a playful punch on the arm. She was grateful for the change of pace.

These people were the closest thing she had to a family.

This was her home.

[liyahsun]

The Earl - Chapter 1

Summary: In the world of the late 1920s England, you and your sister sought out to live comfortably in times economic decline and hardships, until an opportunity presents itself to you unanticipatedly: working for an earl and his estate which holds many private affairs. Secrets uncovered not anyone could fathom.

Featured: Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Hange Zoe

Word count: 2.7k

Chapter contents: black reader, black female reader, racial injustice alluded to, reminiscing, dark themes/subjects suggested, superiority/inferiority complexes, mention of infectious disease

Playlist as ambience while reading

A/N: Hey guys! This is my first piece of fiction that I am ever sharing. Was nervous about it but with the help of some friends I got some encouragement, thanks to them for those kind words🤎 Cannot wait to see where this work goes, hope y'all enjoy the ride that this is going to be! Heavy inspirations for this work are Rebecca, Anna Karenina, Sense and Sensibility, and Pride & Prejudice (im a sucker for period dramas)

Prevail

Your eyes are fixed on the words that rested gently on the pages before you. Calm breeze accompanied the pores of your soft skin as it wisped through the window that was slightly ajar at your side. Mixed with the sensation, the inviting ambience of the lively town you and your elder sister reside in, Temberlock, which happened to be bustling with more voices than usual. That was typical around this time of year. Folks from all walks of life flocked to town during the summer to reunite with family and friends for the season’s festivities. Which also meant gossip and scandal increased as it went hand in hand with the influx of persons. It was three hours past noon. The squares of light from the paneled window crept slowly up the desk. The warmth from the summer sun slowly illuminated onto your brown skin, causing it to exude tones as if it were golden like the large star was giving you its compliments and kisses. The chair creaked as you lean forward to get a closer look at the phrase of words:

…but this place will always have one claim on my affection, which no other can possibly share.

This fragment from this novel; it resonated so well within your mind--it's as if Austen knew what was transpiring in your own life. Surely you wanted for more: an estate of your own, perhaps in the countryside.

Privacy.

To not have to worry whether or not your fortepiano was disturbing your neighbors. You longed for it, a dream that seemed so far out of reach--almost too good to be true to be tangible it seemed. Oh, what it'd be like to have a loving husband who is abundant in dowry, wealthy in intelligence, and sensibility in regard to your fervor. You did not think of yourself to have wanted so much. What you deeply longed for was a life more than sustainable. Whether or not dinner may be on the table at night having to cross your thoughts upon merely waking up to the day.

But the two of you lived comfortably, which in no other choice you had to be accepting of. Evangeline worked meticulously at the Smith estate, or so she'd come home and tell you the stories of what she'd experience in a work day as a governess for the earl's younger sister—and how she had an energetic temperament. On some occasions your sister placed the palm of her hand against her head in annoyance when solely mentioning her. You felt that the two of you were fortunate he opened the governess position to your sister as work was hard to come by in these times, moreover, being two unmarried women of African descent. Having skin resemblant of cocoa deemed life inconvenient. Although, not as many hardships were faced as the news stories you’d hear of people with your same complexion in the states, or that’s what you’d hear people call them. On odd occasions nightmares would present themselves to you in your sleep--the cries of your brothers and sisters of different soil, every scream and emotion was felt. Every plead to walk equally among white men, despite the successive Emancipation Proclamation the two of you educated yourselves about. In those dreams your soul would ache, personifying as a large calming hand that’d long to lift about and carry away those conforming souls of your people. You knew you were the minority, British of African birth or descent, and held your culture as close as you could to your heart. There were more of us than what people perceived, in all social standings: doctors, soldiers, merchants, musicians…and even among us newly actresses. But nonetheless, your sister was contemptuous with her position working for him. The highly-spoken Earl Smith.

You worked as a bookkeeper at a nearby bookstore. It was small, traditional, and homey. Working there was satisfactory. Each person that came in came from different realms of life. Old and young. The kind of books they'd check out gave you a glimpse into their spirits. The books had their own way of storytelling without you not having to actually know them. A few of your regular patron's book trends you've become familiar with. One who went by the name of Hange, would come in weekly and check out scientific books--the kind that touched on controversial topics. This week's transaction, Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica by Sir Isaac Newton. You personally have not read through it as it did not peak your interest, but knew it explored Newton's laws of motion and universal gravitation.

Not so controversial this week.

The thought crossed your mind as you carried out your usual business.

They had a scientist-like appearance to them each time you'd see them enter the store, and smelled of chemicals that were unmistakingly potent. As you finished up your markings, you heard fragments of one-word statements such as "gravity and friction" mutter from their mouth as they were in a deep trance of thought. You didn’t dare ask what wild experiment they must be up to this time.

Another, a mister Arlert, who'd occasionally come in and acquire books on the ocean, ranging from the deep undiscovered waters to how the moon affected the tides. Unlike Hange who was lively about purchasing their books and leaving immediately after, he would be calm about his transactions and stay to read a few chapters before departing.

One customer in particular you couldn't exactly decipher, nor did you want to pry. He'd say in several instances that he was sent by his Lordship to pick up the books, but never clarified who they were. Upon checking out he never stated a name as other customers usually do.

He'd say, "write patron," for your transaction records, and that was it. No hesitation from him nor did you bother inquiring.

His stature and build was short, but toned nonetheless. He'd come in uniform, a similar composition of what your sister described the male staff would wear, but dressed down as he walked among the public and not his Lordship. His raven undercut was not hard to miss and was made to be his signature. You couldn’t associate the style with anybody else. He being a man of a few words adjacent to his constant cold scowl intimidated you utterly; stealthy-like eyes piercing yours as if a snake were scoping out its next potential prey in a high society of the survival of the fittest. This town was not too large, and word spread fast. His Lordship could be a few you've had in mind. Your thoughts would consume you every time he came in to think about the earl your sister worked for. He didn't seem like the kind of gentleman to read books of historical erotica which leaned toward the ideals of sadism. You couldn't fathom why the bookstore owner chose to carry such books. To each their own you suppose.

Your mind wanders back to its current setting and you close your book, pacing to the kitchen. The thought of savoring cheesy baked potatoes brings your palate to salivate. As you put on the water to boil, Evangeline walks through the door, more seemingly fatigued than usual.

"Sister," she calls from the door, "Are you making dinner? I'm exhausted!"

She doesn't bother hanging her outer coat, instead letting it drop off her shoulders to the floor, followed by her shoes being kicked off heavily. You watch in concern as she mopes to the couch, slumping down on it, hanging her feet over the edge. The areas of her smooth unwithered face were clammy with sweat and more pale than usual. Her once bright and youthful demeanor now appeared droopy. No doubt she's fallen ill.

She picks up on you staring at her in concern in her peripheral vision. Through breathiness she manages to mutter,

"His Lordship Smith told me to not return tomorrow…" she paused momentarily, "and he's sending a doctor out to keep observation of this newfound unknown illness…" her words trail off.

She turns her head to you slowly in pain and faintly continues, "My muscles ache more than usual and breathing has become difficult."

Another pause follows.

"Dearest sister, you must take my place. No telling how soon I will recover from this." Her brows furrowed from the aches she was enduring.

"What does this mean? Me working alone does not guarantee our security-"

She cuts your words short,

"But my position as a governess makes a livable wage, rather than your bookkeeping. It is settled. You must take my place."

You could not protest that. She was correct. She was always correct. Sometimes it greatly affected you, made you insecure about your own line of thinking. Other times it's one of the qualities she possessed well that you admire so greatly. Always so just and confident in what she believed in, not wavering in the slightest. No hesitation. She had a kind of demanding nature to her, and people would bend. She was not an intimidator, no, but she made her intentions well known, and you followed suit in her shadow to remain affixed.

Your body grows numb as your senses gain in on the solemnity of the situation you two are now in. Before you knew it, the plushness of the couch engulfs your derrière as your legs give out from sudden shock. To be a governess for a man of such rank meant holding oneself with such class and dignity you didn’t feel you obtained naturally—not such as your sister at least. Surely being a governess only meant being employed to teach children within a private household, but it was for him.

Him.

From time to time your curiosity would get the best of you and would lean to asking Evangeline what the earl looked like. She described him as handsomely tall, bright blonde hair neat and sleek. His ensemble and its trappings remained uniform with nothing out of place. The way a gentleman presented himself told people of society a lot of who he was as a man. She’d add that his sharp features surely demanded the attention of those who he’d choose to associate himself with upon entering any room.

The one thing that still baffles you is he's unmarried and no one speaks of it.

Your hands find themselves rubbing your temples to find some tangible form of relief—that is—until you are interrupted from your anxious thoughts.

“Sister, hello? Hey!” Evangeline snapped her fingers with the ounce of strength she had left to gain your attention. Your rising anxiety had caused you to zone out, something that has been happening more often. Your eyes snap to her’s which were looking to the framed opening of the kitchen in concern.

Smoke. Heavens.

Realizing quickly that she was too weak to get up, you rushed to the kitchen to take the pot with the overcooked potatoes off the stove. Your breathing is heavy.

“Dinner is beyond a state to consume it,” you mutter to yourself.

You sigh in disappointment and frustration. Why was it things that seemed miniscule—minor inconveniences such as dinner being ruined—upset you so easily? Perhaps it was the scenario that you now find yourself in so troubling. Panicking wasn’t going to bring justice to either of you, and there was no avoiding the situation at hand. Something that you became so easily accustomed to: running away from the good and bad, abandoning everything, which time and time proved again it’ll leave nothing. Nothing to look back to. No one to trust.

Straighten up.

Pacing to the kitchen sink, you splash the chilling water against your skin to ground yourself, the uncomfortableness from the chill leaving behind growing goosebumps. Patting yourself dry, you approach the frame of the kitchen and lean against it. Her tiresome eyes meet yours in concern as she understands dinner is derelict having to speak. That was the last of your potatoes.

...

Your senses are awakened to muffled talking from the living room. It must be the doctor that was sent out. They’re here awfully early. Rubbing your heavy eyes you approach your window that was ajar with a cool breeze. Bleak thoughts of the situation at hand returned to your mind—the gift of sleep temporarily erased your memory through the night departed you, leaving you with the realities of today and many days after that must be overcome. Any other person would be happy to be in your position of being employed for such a man of nobility—but then maybe perhaps not, due to the unforeseen circumstances that brought you here.

Bringing yourself to enter the living room, there your sister lies looking as ill as ever. Leaves you wondering how the doctor was let in at her being shaken at this rate. Beside her on the tea table lay medical instruments your eyes have never seen in their curious life. Some of which looked to repair the most disastrous of illnesses unimaginable. Seemingly with some deliberation as if he were about to deliver grim news to your awaiting ears, the physician begins,

“Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Dr. Edvard, head doctor of the Smith estate. I was sent here to tend to your sister,” he turns to pick up an instrument and fixes himself back to Evangeline.

“Her condition seems to be of recent discoveries…” trailing off once again as his focus is on administering his tool.

“Sore throat, fever, weakness, and some swelling around the underside of the jaw,” he says as he presses against that area as you see her wince in pain.

Your heart was racing and your throat grew more dry.

Frantically you ask, “what does this mean for her?”

“I will be keeping a close eye on her. For now, I recommend you keep your distance as symptoms of this condition are known to be easily transmissible. If my impressions are correct, this is a mild case of diphtheria, which there is currently a vaccine being brought to perfection to treat.”

His words were affirming yet dreary. The usually comforting sounds of the town appeared still this morning and not lively as it usually was, adding to your ever-growing anxiety you felt beginning to make its way back through your body again.

Her weak voice cut through your intrusive thoughts,

“It’ll be okay. I will be okay. I am in good hands, have faith.”

Without a verbal response you just nod so that she can visually see you are agreeing, even though deep down within you feel paralysed with fear like a child who lost track of their parent in a hectic marketplace—tall giants hastily walking past you in all directions as you feel your world slowly coming into collision with your innocent mind.

With a mind of their own, your feet trail back to your bedroom where a cotton blouse that buttoned up and a wool skirt lay on your vanity, folded. The ensemble of your new position. Had that been there before? You didn’t notice it as you were so worried about what today may bring.

She put these here for me.

From when the two of you were adolescents, back when your mother was living, Evangeline would always go out of her way to help everyone, even when a situation would deem it inappropriate. You despised it. It annoyed you to a great extent because she’d insist she was always okay. Like the night you became so frustrated because your mother would not assist you with pinning your hair before bed as she promised that day. So you made a promise to yourself you’d learn to do it on your own with no assistance, and you made that known to her. Regardless of you emphasizing how much your personal growth meant for you, Evangeline dismissed your feelings and assisted you anyway. Words did not make their way to the world as you were uneasy they might offend her offering of assistance to you, furthermore, making you appear ungrateful. Deep down you felt that she was afraid to not be in control of her situation at hand. Always had to have the upper-hand; the final say-so. Why couldn’t she fall back and be complacent when times called for it? Why’d she have to be so strong-willed? Didn’t she ever become tired of pulling a heavy load? The action of these clothes that lay on your vanity gave you all the answers you needed.

[hey-its-cweepy]

A/N: ... Okay so this was going to be a drawing, but on top of the fact that its night time rn- drawing + coloring all the panels is kinda a pain in the butt and my hand still sorta hurts (EVOLNATION OC WILL COME OUT TOMORROW I SWEAR- I JUST NEED TO DRAW THEM-)

IM NOT THE BEST AT WRITING SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF ANYTHING OOC-

Mellow belongs to @fumikomiyasaki! Also Im sorry if Im getting annoying with pinging and stuff... This is getting long-

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

Momo ran through the halls after being scared over and over after getting a little lost during the halloween event. Tears ran down her face as she just finished scrambling out of the previous location, being scared from the costumed students.

Once she was far enough, she sat down on the ground with her knees to her chest as she quietly sobbed to herself.

"... Dallas was right, Im so pathetic..." She sniffled to herself "... I c-cant do this... M-Maybe I should just head back to the dorm a-and pretend I was s-sick or s-something..."

Mellow seems to have been passing by after fulfilling another task, about to return to his respective dorm before hearing her quiet cries as he steps in, concerned.

"M-Momo? A-Are you alright?... Did... Something happen?..."

Momo flinches a bit in surprise, quickly trying to wipe away her tears as she looks up at him, trying to not make it obvious she was crying but it was too late.

"M-Mellow! U-Um... I-Its nothing, I swear! I'm... I'm just a little t-tired b-but Im fine" Momo has always been a terrible liar...

Mellow seems to only grow more concerned as he hesitantly sits next to her, his cheeks having a small hint of blush to them.

"Momo, i-if something's wrong, p-please tell me... I w-want to help you..."

"I-I... I..." Momo sighed as she looked away from Mellow and down at the ground, about to start crying again "... Im just b-being a baby... Everyone's just d-dressed in costumes b-but... I dont kn-know its just-... So s-scary..." Momo curls up a bit more with a sniffle.

"H-Hey, you're n-not a "b-baby" for being s-scared... I can s-stay here with y-you for a bit to help you c-calm down if you w-want..."

Momo looks back up at him, a bit caught off guard by the offer "S-Stay here? B-But... But wh-what about your d-dorm?..."

"Im... Im sure they can h-handle a few m-minutes without me... B-Besides... I want to m-make sure you're alright.."

Momo still seems a little surprised by the response as she uncurls herself a bit. "Th... Th-Thank you... M-Mellow..."

She hesitantly scooted a bit closer to him, one of her fingers nervously reaching out to hold his hand, her face a bit red from both crying and the fact that she's touching his hand. Mellow's soft blush becomes more evident as he slowly yet gently holds one of her hands.

"D-Dont w-worry about it... I w-want you to b-be okay..."

Momo appreciated his company but seems very hesitant to do anything more than hand holding... Mellow doesn't really mind as he's also too nervous to advance any further than hand holding.

As time went on, Momo seemed to have mostly calmed down as she stands up despite being a little shaky.

"Th-Thank you, r-really... B-But... I... I th-think I... H-Have to go back..." Momo didnt really want to go back, but she knew she had to if she wanted to go back to her dorm.

"I-I'll... I'll go with y-you..." Mellow gently squeezed her hand as he stood up with her, Momo's face blushed more "... Th-Thank you s-so m-much Mellow... I-I... I r-really a-apreciate th-this..."

"You r-really dont n-need to thank me for th-this... L-Let's go... T-Together..."

Momo and Mellow continued to hold hands as they made their way around the school, with Mellow comforting Momo anytime a student scared her (intentionally or not)

[crowdvscritic]

round up // APRIL 23

A selection of words capturing my April pop culture experiences:

Museum

Podcast

Amy Sherman-Palladino

Muppets

Vampire

Nike

American Girl dolls

Read on for everything that brought me joy this month!

April Crowd-Pleasers

1. Renfield (2023)

Did I write a review of Renfield, an ode to the two Nic(k)s, or analysis of the Great Resignation? Yes, yes, and yes. Read whatever, in fact, I wrote at ZekeFilm. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10

2. SNL Round Up

Whether they’re spoofing my childhood toys, my young adulthood wedding commitments, or my love for the Jonas Brothers, the crew in Studio 8H has been keeping me laughing this Spring.

“Southwest Airlines Announcement” (4811 with Michael B. Jordan) 

“The Big Hollywood Quiz” (4812 with Pedro Pascal) - A great example of how no one watches the same things anymore

“Waking Up” (4812)

“Protective Mom” (4812)

“Lisa From Temecula” (4812)

“American Girl Café” (4814 with Travis Kelce)

“Bridesmaid Cult Documentary” (4816 with Quinta Brunson) - I feel seen

"Weekend Update: Co-Worker Who's Extremely Busy Doing Seemingly Nothing on Returning to the Office” (4817 with Molly Shannon) - I feel attacked

“Sally O'Malley: Jonas Brothers” (4817)

“American Girl Doll Movie Trailer” (4818 with Ana de Armas)

3. Descanso Gardens

Because I can’t resist a botanical garden! Gardens are becoming a go-to attraction for me on vacations, and the Descanso Gardens in Los Angeles did not disappoint. The day we went was not too crowded but was impressive enough to earn a huge crowd—a hidden gem for LA tourists!

4. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Panel at PaleyFest

The gardens were lovely, but there were two other attractions that were the real reason for my visit to Los Angeles. The first was PaleyFest to see Amy Sherman-Palladino, Daniel Palladino, and the cast of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel! Just before the fifth and final season started on Amazon Prime, we heard Alex Borstein and Rachel Brosnahan share their mourning process for the show’s ending, Caroline Aaron and Michael Zegen reflect on what these roles have meant to them, and Tony Shalhoub crack up the crowd. (And who knew I would be so starstruck by him? When he came on stage I wanted to scream, “YOU WERE SO GOOD IN GALAXY QUEST!”) Check out SO IT’S A SHOW’s Instagram for more highlights from when my podcast co-host Kyla and I visited the Dolby Theatre (home of the Oscars!).

4. John Mulaney: Baby J (2023)

A full year ago I saw John Mulaney on his From Scratch tour, and now you can enjoy the set at home. His joke about not being interested in science “from magnets to ducks” did not make the cut (and alas now I can’t remember the setup for that punchline), but the other 90% of a show that made me laugh so hard I cried is preserved forever.

5. The Muppets. (2015-16)

Why did this gem only last 16 episodes? In this one-season single-cam sitcom, the Muppets are working on Late Night with Miss Piggy, a setting that could’ve produced comedy gold for years. With the frazzled Kermit producing, the Electric Mayhem as the in-studio band, and celebrity guests through the felt nose, I’m glad I checked out these 16 eps even though they ended on a cliffhanger. If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like for Miss Piggy to date Josh Groban or to hold grudges against every blonde actress in Hollywood, you won’t want to miss it either.

7. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (2023)

Special in the way that the best coming-of-age movies are. I suspect Margaret’s insecurities about boys, bras, and besties will feel relatable to Gens Z and Alpha if for no other reason than this movie’s depiction felt scarily accurate to my own experience in the mid-2000s. I promise I will never start a review with the story of my first period ever again! At least, probably—at the rate we're going, it will never be apropos again. Read the full review at ZekeFilm. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9/10

April Critic Picks

1. AIR (2023)

Is it controversial to say Matt and Ben’s collabs only get better? If we're playing Greatest/Best/Favorite, this might be my new ranking:

Greatest: Good Will Hunting

Best: The Last Duel

Favorite: AIR

Read my full review for ZekeFilm. Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 9/10

2. The Academy Museum

The other reason I went out to Los Angeles: After years of pandemic-caused delays, I finally made it to the Academy Museum! Six floors of movie and Oscars history and memorabilia? You know I’m in my happy place, but casual movie fans will find something for them, too. Some of my favorite exhibits included the several-stories high Mount Rushmore backdrop used in North by Northwest, the gallery that used The Godfather to show each element of filmmaking, and the pianos from Casablanca. Fanny’s (named for Barbra Streisand’s character in Funny Girl) serves exceptional museum food, and I learned about deep cut filmmakers and movements I was only vaguely familiar with before I went. I’d give the Academy a gold statue for museum execution if I could!

3. Good Reads

A miscellaneous round up of good stuff I’ve read lately…

Final thoughts on 2022 Awards Season:

“How Avatar: The Way of Water Can Make $2 Billion and Still Feel Irrelevant,” Vox.com (2023)

“How Did We Let the Golden Globes Back In?” LATimes.com (2022)

Unexpected responses to Cocaine Bear:

“An Attempt to Define the ‘Good for Her’ Cinematic Universe,” Vulture.com (2023)

“The Case for Cocaine Bears,” Slate.com (2023)

Glitches in the Sports Industry Matrix:

“America’s Bad Bet on Expanding Legal Sports Gambling,” Vox.com (2023)

“Will Damar Hamlin’s Injury Change the NFL? Why a Safer Game Could Turn Away Fans,” LATimes.com (2023)

Watching trends that need to be fixed:

“Mumbling Actors, Bad Speakers or Lazy Listeners? Why Everyone is Watching TV With Subtitles On,” TheGuardian.com (2023)

“Television Is Going Exactly the Wrong Direction. I Know the Solution.” Slate.com (2023)

Explorations of our malaise at work:

“How to Care Less About Work,” TheAtlantic.com (2021)

“The Age of the Crisis of Work,” Harpers.org (2023)

All the ways—okay, just some of the way—social media is on the struggle bus right now:

“Why Every App Now Feels Like TikTok, but Worse,” NYMag.com (2023)

“How Elon Musk Turned the Blue Check Mark Into a Scarlet Letter,” Slate.com (2023)

“Commentary: If Twitter Finally Dies, Where Do We Find the Smart People?” LATimes.com (2023)

And even more miscellaneous good reads: 

“You’ll Feel Better if You Go Outside,” NewYorker.com (2021)

“The Oral History of Helm’s Deep,” Inverse.com (2022)

“I’ve Had It With Stunt Ice Cream Flavors,” Eater.com (2023)

“Clothes Make the Con Man,” NYTimes.com (2023)

“Hailey Bieber, Selena Gomez, and the Easter Egg-ification of the Hollywood Feud,” Vox.com (2023)

“Why Are TV Writers So Miserable?” NewYorker.com (2023)

4. Current Exhibits at the St. Louis Art Museum

My membership to the SLAM always pays off. In April I indulged in two special exhibits:

The Age of Armor, which showcases the history of armor and battle gear with an emphasis on suits of armor. The galleries did a great job explaining how the armor functioned and provided model pieces to try yourself, but you know my favorite part was the Black Panther and Star Wars costumes at the end!

Monet/Mitchell: Painting the French Landscape compares the work of Claude Monet and American expat Joan Mitchell, and it brought me back to my magical trip to Giverny last summer! 

5. The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)

Sumptous costumes and sets, Bette Davis doing the most acting, and Errol Flynn at his handsomest. This Queen Elizabeth I costume drama from Michael Curtiz is maximalist in aesthetic and romantic at its heart. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 9/10

6. Under the Umbrella: A Little Women Podcast (2023-)

Little Women superfans unite! Kate and Kelsey (friends and both teachers) are analyzing the book and film versions from every angle, and if you love the March sisters, Louisa May Alcott, or Greta Gerwig, they are going to be your new best friends. 

7. Just Like Us: The Tabloids That Changed America (2022)

Last spring the Ringer Dish podcast did a deep dive into the ‘00s tabloids and their obsession with Brangelina, Bennifer, and ‘90s child stars gone wild—so basically everything I obsessed over in middle school. Bottom line: They probably didn’t make our world better, but those mags (and emerging online blogs and reality TV) sure tapped into parts of our brains that made them addictive. This eight-episode series challenges any assumption we have about about celebrity gossip being harmless—or frivolous.

Until May’s Round Up…

In spite of the current state of things, I’m still tweeting in denial as @tblake24. Come join me until this platform burns to the ground!

If you want real-time updates on what I’m watching and loving, you can also find me as @tblake24 on Letterboxd. 

Photo credits: Good Reads, Under the Umbrella, Just Like Us. Descanso Gardens, PaleyFest, Academy Museum, and SLAM my own. All other IMDb.com. 

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Recap of my first con experience!! Besides all the back and forth from the last few days that I've already posted lol

I ended up going with my brother. Our tickets got us in after 3pm which meant we missed David Tennant's q&a. But we were supposed to catch John Barrowman's q&a. I told my brother when we had to leave. Very early bc parking would be bad. He showed up 25mins late. We didn't park until 3:30/3:45. Which still meant we should have left earlier than I first said. But still. My brother was like oh wow it's really packed. ???? Yeah. The walk took a while too so we got in right at 4. No John Barrowman q&a either :( ok next. I really really want David's autograph. Took us a while to find the booth but we did. Uh oh they only take cash unless you prepaid. (I didn't prepay bc I knew we couldn't get in till 3 and there was no info on how long he was staying but today was his last day. I was worried we'd get there and he'd already be gone.) OK fine there's atms. We get the cash. We get in line. David Tennant is FIVE FEET FROM ME OMG. The lady hands me a post it to write my name on. She sees the cash in my hand. They're not taking cash anymore only prepaid tickets. NO DAVID TENNANT AUTOGRAPH. YEP. AFTER ALL OF THAT. I DO NOT HAVE HIS AUTOGRAPH. OR A PICTURE. OR ANYTHING. I SAW HIM IN PERSON FOR LIKE. A MINUTE. THATS IT. I almost cried and had a complete emotional breakdown BUT my last hope was that the BMW cast was still out and I didn't wanna be crying in my pics with them sofhskdhjs so :) I got Danielle Fishel's autograph and a selfie with her :) I wanted to get the same with Rider Strong. Bestie disappeared. And as soon as I was done with Danielle, Will Friedle and Trina McGee also disappeared. So :((( but at least I got Danielle's!! And!! I had written off getting anything from John Barrowman bc I though his autograph was more expensive but it turned out it was cheaper than I thought! So I got that too! And a good amount of interaction with him bc the line was long and he was super chatty. THEN. There were 3 Doctor Who panels that lasted all night and we ended up staying for those and im really glad we did!! It was just. Nerds hanging out and talking about Doctor Who ksjfjsks they were all really fun and funny. We got home at 2am!! And overall everything that we did do was really fun im just still disappointed about what I missed :( the last bright side is. Now I've done it once. So hopefully next year will have good guests too and I'll feel more prepared