#(i've played both games. they ACT the same age)

[sage-nebula]

Notes: I've been replaying Night in the Woods and I'm unable to get this little crossover idea out of my head. Set after Sonic Frontiers and after the main storyline of Night in the Woods, and slight AU where Tails is 11 or 12 instead of 8, so he can be closer in age to Lori, who is canonically 14 (I want him to have a friend closer to his own age). The idea here is that Tails has happened upon the tiny town of Possum Springs in his travels, and for some reason or another decides to crash there for a while, both literally and figuratively. For those who haven't played Night in the Woods, all you have to know is that Lori is a 14yo mouse who loves horror movies and lives out by the train tracks, on Chestnut Street.

- - -

It was weird, how peaceful and comforting just lying in the dirt could be. Tails stretched his legs out, letting his heels thump against the metal rail of the train tracks, and a similar thump from behind him told him Lori had done the same on the other side. They stretched out between the two sets of tracks, facing opposite directions, their heads next to each other. The sky above was grey and thick with clouds. Every now and again, a drop of rain fell and splattered against Tails’ forehead. For some reason, he didn’t mind much.

“I like going to sleep out here sometimes,” Lori said. Tails tilted his head to look at her, but she was staring up at the sky above. He tilted his head back to do the same. “The excitement of the trains rushing by makes it easier to sleep. I just pretend like I’m homeless, and go to sleep.”

“I was homeless once,” Tails said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, for a few years when I was little. My brother and I just . . . wandered around.” And fought badniks and Eggman’s mechas and— “It took a few years for us to get my first workshop.”

“And then you lived in a workshop?”

“It has a house area too, with a bed and a kitchen and stuff. But I really wanted a place to be able to store my tools and work on my inventions, and we needed a hangar to keep the Tornado out of the rain so she wouldn’t rust.”

“I thought your plane was called the Cyclone?”

“Mine is. Sonic’s is the Tornado. She’s back home, unless he took her out recently.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

The ground rumbled, the vibrations cruising up Tails’ spine and through his ribs, and he pulled his feet off the tracks. Moments later a train rushed down them, and from the gust of wind that kicked up behind him, he knew one was passing by on the other side of his head, too. It took a few minutes, but when the train passed, both Tails and Lori stretched their legs out again, letting their feet clatter against the train tracks.

“Was it hard?” Lori asked after a moment.

“Was what hard?”

“Being homeless. I’ve always wondered what it was like. You know, when I’m laying out here sleeping.”

“Not really? I was really little, so I didn’t do too much. Sonic took care of everything; I just followed him.” Because even back then, he was a follower. He just tagged along, not a thought or care in the world about the burden he was imposing on Sonic by doing so. Sonic had never complained—at least, not to Tails directly. But then, he wouldn’t, would he? Even though he had only been eleven himself. Even though they’d had to hustle pool to get enough money for food, something Tails had thought had been fun at the time, although it must’ve been stressful for Sonic, far more than just caring for himself had been. Tails laid his arms across the coiling guilt in his stomach, and closed his eyes as a raindrop splattered against his forehead. “Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you?”

Tails shrugged, as best he could while still lying on the ground. “It was just . . . better than where I was, I guess. And I wanted things to be better. I wanted to be better.” And he still did, and still wasn’t.

“It was better being homeless?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your parents?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, then, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prying. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Tails pushed himself up on his elbows to look over at her, but Lori was very determinedly not looking at him, staring up at the sky as she took in shallow breaths. “I don’t mind, it’s fine. They disappeared a long time ago. I don’t even remember what they looked like. It’s okay. Okay?”

“Mm.” Lori gulped down a few more breaths of anxious air, still not looking at him, her whiskers twitching as her fingers toyed with the zipper on her jacket. Tails laid back down, figuring it was probably better to let Lori calm down on her own, rather than try to force her to.

It never helped when people tried to badger him out of panic attacks, after all.

The ground rumbled beneath them again, and as one they pulled their feet back from the tracks. The wind that gusted over them was nice; it ruffled through Tails’ fur not unlike the wind that teased it when Sonic sprinted past, although thinking of that made a bittersweet pang take root in his chest. He pushed it away.

When the trains passed, and they had their feet on the tracks again, Lori spoke again. “My mom’s gone, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My dad’s still here, though. When he hasn’t been drinking.”

Tails frowned. “That’s . . . not great.”

“No. But it means I can go wherever I want, at least. That’s kinda cool.”

“I guess.” Tails scuffed the heel of his shoe against the rail of the train tracks. “Is there anywhere you want to go? Away from Possum Springs, I mean. I could take you in the Cyclone.”

“I’ve got school tomorrow.”

“We could be back by tomorrow.”

Lori hummed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.”

Comfortable silence fell again. Tails could hear birds twittering in the trees nearby, and the distant woosh of cars driving down the street.

“What about you?” Lori asked. “Where do you want to go after this? Back home?”

“No,” Tails said, even as he had to swallow against the yearning he felt to fall asleep to the sound of the Mystic Ruins waterfall, or the comforting smell of metal and oil from his workshop. “Not yet.”

“When, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” When I’m better.

“Hm. Well.” Lori shifted, and when Tails looked over he saw that she was looking at him from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s cool if you want to hang out here for a while. It’s nice to have someone to talk to when Mae’s busy.”

“Yeah.” Tails smiled a little, despite himself. “You’re fun to hang out with.”

Lori grinned, and pulled her feet back off the tracks. Tails did the same, and they watched the trains rush by on either side of them.

[yellowharrington]

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10. 

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 

I would love to find out. 

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice. 

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

[steviewashere]

Steve and Eddie being teenage boys (even in their twenties, even though they technically are no longer teenagers), a list that I've been making in my head (some of them are stupid and some of them are sweet, but this is a long list, be warned):

Steve teaching Eddie how to burp the alphabet after drinking soda. He's phenomenal at it. Like...almost disgustingly so. It ends up turning into a one up competition pretty fast after that.

Eddie who knows how to drag race and takes Steve on ridiculously fast drives down empty streets at night (when Steve's had a terrible night). He steps on the gas and goes: "Weeee!!!" as they speed. (Please don't speed. It is dangerous. But for the sake of entertaining their pea brains, this is what they do.)

Eddie and Steve who have been participating in a several month long tagging game. They slap each other on the back of shoulders as hard as they possibly can before skittering off like a little goblin.

Steve and Eddie think it's soooo fucking funny to blow up condoms like balloons when they're stoned.

Steve and Eddie who get stoned and they go shop for munchies at the local grocery store, both hysterically giggling at figuring out how to be "normal" people in public. (They are failing miserably.)

Steve who makes Eddie play basketball with him sometimes. And then he purposefully tosses the ball at Eddie rather than the basket. It devolves into wresting in the grass, heads in elbows, knuckles across scalps, kicking each other in the shins.

One time, Steve falls asleep at Eddie's on the couch. And instead of being all sweet and doting, Eddie finds a marker and draws a penis on Steve's face. He gets water poured on his head the next time he falls asleep at Steve's as payback.

Steve and Eddie comforting each other through nightmares and hardships and healing injuries, both in sort of constipated, mumbled ways. Pats to the back and leaning in close to each other, resting heads on shoulders. Passing cigarettes or beers back and forth just to pass the time, not really talking. Exchanging words afterwards like, "You're a great friend," and "You're the best person I know." Because they both need that and recognize that, even outside of the petty, childish things they do to each other.

Eddie, who understands that the pool at Steve's is a sore spot, instead of prodding them to get in, he plans out a whole water balloon fight to stave off the summer heat.

Steve, who knows that music has been a source of calm for Eddie over the years, makes sure there's always a cassette that Eddie can play in case it gets too quiet.

Eddie and Steve who shit talk each other in the arcade, beating each other's high scores if only to rile the other one up.

Steve who always checks Eddie's ID before he goes into the adult only room in Family Video. Despite knowing that Eddie is definitely over the age of eighteen. Sometimes he denies Eddie entry in front of Keith just to make him pout. (He thinks it's cute.)

Eddie and Steve watching porn together, criticizing the moans the entire time because they know for sure it's fake. And on the same note of moans, Eddie who gets a call from Wayne and Steve fake moans in the background the entire time. Steve gets a call from his parents and Eddie shouts really loud in the background for Steve to pass the joint back. They just glare at each other before getting in another tag fight throughout wherever they're at.

Eddie who goes into Family Video after Steve strikes out again. Who just walks up to the counter and starts acting like one of those girls, twirling his hair and pouting his lips and blinking his eyes, making his voice high pitched. (It gets Steve to giggle instead of pout, so Eddie calls it a win.)

Eddie guzzling an entire can of Coke and then spraying it out of his nose when Steve makes him laugh too hard. Steve's never made anybody laugh that hard.

Steve and Eddie who claim it's not gay to make their boners kiss. I mean...what? Who said that?

Steve and Eddie who play-punch a little too hard when playing punch buggy on vacation.

Speaking of vacation, Steve and Eddie going to a beach over the summer. They chase each other up and down the sand. They roll off of the sand hills. Eddie buries Steve in the sand and applies sunscreen to his face as he just accepts his fate. Steve helps Eddie make a sandcastle, a secret talent of his being how structurally sound he can build one.

Steve and Eddie playing with Legos while talking shit about Family Video customers. They toss Sour Patch Kids into each other's mouths as they talk. Sometimes hitting each other in the face purposefully.

Steve and Eddie who get drunk one night and go catch a wild possum. Robin screams at them to put it back because, "No, you dinguses, that is not a cat!"

Eddie and Steve taking care of each other on bad pain days. Trying to entertain the other with stupid jokes or shitty movies or gossip.

Eddie sharing his uncle with Steve when he finds out that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington are terrible motherfuckers. Who makes sure Steve is comfortable in his home around Wayne.

Steve conspiring with Wayne to make sure that Eddie always has the best birthday parties. Because the one thing he really held onto from his King Steve years was how to throw a small get together, and how, especially, to make it extremely awesome and memorable.

Steve who gets Eddie new albums he's been eyeing for his birthday. Ones Eddie knows he'd never be able to afford on his own, always a little sullen when he looks at the price. Steve who still has access to his dad's credit card and will max it out just for Eddie to get his fill.

Eddie makes homemade things for Steve's birthday. Cards and trinkets and drawings—things Steve's old high school buddies never considered as gifts, even though they have the most impact on Steve, even though they matter the most.

Steve and Eddie who love each other, insurmountably. Despite sometimes being major buttheads to each other.

[ghoastixx]

Stanley pines x gn!reader where he keeps flirting with them and reader keeps playing coy and acting hard to get? both same age and he meets them at greasies diner? (I love old couples ahh)

Stanley Pines x gn!reader

A nice old couple

Synopsis: You meet the so called "Man of Mystery" that you've heard so much about since entering town.. he's one slyyyyyy dog. Takes place before the portal is opened.

"And that is Stanford Pines, Man of Mystery."

"man of mystery?" You ask lazy Susan suspiciously.

"Yes! He runs the Mystery Shack down in the woods. Real odd place that is." You hummed and went back to your coffee. Someone sat down next to you.

"I'll take one coffee, hold the creamer." He grumbled, he had on a cheap suit and had messy grey hair. Time had gotten to him, looks like stress too. He looked over at you,

"I never seen you here before, you visiting town? If so could I recommend the mys-"

"I just moved down here, I'm not really in the mood for.. tourist traps."

"Moved down here? Usually we don't get people moving down here."

"Well, my grandkids all grew up and stopped visiting, so I thought that small town would be the way to go. Can't move around the city like I used to, and I grew up in a small town."

He "cooly" stuck his hand out,

"names Stanford Pines,"

You shook his hand, "Y/N L/N."

and that was all of that interaction. You two would see each other around. You two didn't talk again til you met these two kids. Twins.

You had been sitting at the counter at Greasies, like you usually did, with the paper. You couldn't get enough of all these strange occurrences. Reminded you of when you were young hanging around John win- that's better left buried. These two kids came up to sit at the counter, the girl ordering a piece of pie as the boy pulled out this book with all these strange pictures. He glanced over at your newspaper and cocked a brow.

"Do you believe that? About that monster?"

You smiled a bit, "You best believe it."

You two had a very engaging conversation. You learned the kids name was "Dipper" which you thought was an odd thing to name your kid, and his sister's name was Mable. They were interested in the supernatural...So you started to tell them stories. One day, you were in the diner when the kids came in with that Pines guy.

"(Preferred title) Y/N?" Mable said, you smiled at her, "This is our Grunkle Stan!"

"Grunkle?" you asked curiously, he seemed a bit surprised that you were the one his kids were talking so fondly of.

"My great niece and nephew-" he said as he ushered the kids to go sit down, sitting next to you at the bar,

"So, you're the one who's been pumping their heads with crazy stories, huh?"

You frowned a bit, "Are they having nightmares. I thought they could handle it Mr.Pines, I apologize."

"No-no- they talk pretty fondly of you. I just- was surprised. Didn't take you as the type to be into all the loony crap."

"Loony?" you chuckled a bit, "From what I've heard, you run the mystery shack." He grumbled a bit and left.

About a week later you stumbled upon a book of myths and legends in one of the boxes you were unpacking. You thought of the Pines twins and wanted them to have it, maybe it would "help" them. You liked humoring their games. So, you got into your truck and headed down to the infamous mystery shack.

It was cute, you thought as you walked around. It made you giggle, that is.

"I didn't expect to see you here-" Stan said, skeptically.

"Ah- found a book I wanted your great niece and nephew to have.. hey how much for the sticker,"

After that, Stan seemed to be down at the diner a lot more, especially the times you'd be there. He would sit down and rant about everything under the sun to you. You would listen, it was charming. He liked your way of talking, you liked things he talked about.

Then one evening you were eating breakfast when he started to stutter around.

"Y/N?"

"yes Stan?"

"Would you..like to maybe.. have dinner with me? Without the kids.."

"Stanford Pines," You smiled "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"uh- yes."

"You sly dog. sure I will."

So you two started going out a bit more.

[zaczenemiji]

Curtain Calls and Curveballs II

Kenji Sato x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: After high school graduation, you never expected to see Kenji Sato again. But fate reunites you both at the same university where your love/hate relationship continues to grow.

Word Count: 1,376

Genre/Warning: Coming of Age, Enemies to Lover, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn

Author's Note: Oops, it became a short series 🫢 Part 3’s otw and I changed the title

PART ONE | PART THREE

MASTERLIST

You were dead wrong when you thought that high school graduation would be the last time you’d ever have to interact with Kenji. You remember your last words then, saying, “Congrats, Sato! I hope this is the last time I ever have to deal with you again.”

To which he replied with, “I’m sure this isn’t the last, (y/n)—to me at least—if ever you really are going to be the actress you dream of being.”

You were hurrying across the busy campus of your university, juggling a stack of drama textbooks and a cup of coffee.

Just as you were about to approach the performing arts building, you noticed a group of students gathered around a bulletin board. Your curiosity built up as you got closer to see what the commotion was about.

“Did you hear? There's a big baseball game this weekend.” a familiar voice called out.

You turned, heart skipping a beat. You didn’t expect to see anyone from high school here, let alone Kenji Sato. He stood there, his signature confident grin in place, holding a baseball glove.

"Kenji?" you blurted out, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Kenji raised an eyebrow, looking equally taken aback. "I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “I thought you were off to some fancy drama school."

“I am,” you rolled your eyes, recovering from the shock. “This university has one of the best drama programs in LA. What about you? I thought you were headed straight for the big leagues."

“Not yet,” Kenji chuckled, shaking his head. “I've got a scholarship to play baseball here while I get my degree.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, sizing each other up. The familiar tension from high school crept back in, but it was tinged with the novelty of your new surroundings.

"So, you're still playing ball?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, and I'm still throwing strikes," Kenji replied with a smirk. "And you? Still pretending to be someone else on stage?"

“Ugh!” you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "It's called acting, Kenji. Something you'd know nothing about."

Kenji laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. "Fair enough. So, are you coming to the game this weekend? It's against our biggest rival. Should be a good show."

"I might," you said, shrugging. "If I don't have rehearsals."

"Typical," Kenji said, shaking his head. "Always busy with your little plays."

"And you're always busy chasing a ball," you retorted.

The rivalry that had defined your high school years was still there, but it was different now but no less present.

"Well, I've got to get to practice," Kenji said finally, stepping back. "Try not to trip on stage, (y/n)."

"And you try not to get hit by a pitch, Sato," she shot back.

As you went your own way, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Being in college felt like being in an unknown and bigger territory with so much more people. It was nice to come across someone you know in a crowd of unfamiliar faces; even if that was Kenji.

So many things have changed since you got into college. The only thing that didn’t, of course, was your rivalry with Kenji but the competition was less intense since you were in different programs.

This shift allowed you to focus on your individual passions without the constant pressure of direct competition. Here, in college, people didn’t know about the rivalry you had.

But this anonymity disappeared quicker than you thought because, for every time you came across each other, you’d always be hurling sarcastic remarks; as you two always did.

One bustling afternoon in the cafeteria, you were with your new friends, laughing and discussing your upcoming production.

"Hey, (y/n), I heard your play's actually worth watching this time," Kenji called out, smirking as he approached with his tray.

“Kenji,” You looked up, a frown on your face. "I thought you'd be busy throwing balls around. What brings you to the world of real talent?"

Kenji chuckled, setting his tray down. "Just wanted to see if you're still pretending to be someone you're not."

One of your friends raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. "You two know each other?"

“Unfortunately,” you said, rolling your eyes as you sighed. "Kenji here thinks he's the king of everything just because he can throw a ball."

"Careful, (y/n). Your jealousy is showing," Kenji retorted, grinning.

Your friends exchanged looks, quickly picking up on the rivalry. "So, you two have a history?"

"You could say that," Kenji said. "She's been trying to keep up with me since high school."

You scoffed, "In your dreams, Sato."

On baseball games, you’d attend with a group of friends from your program more to support the school than to see Kenji, or so you told yourself.

As you settled in your seat, one of your guy friends nudged you. "Isn't that the guy you're always talking about? The baseball star?" He asked.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Yes, that's Kenji,” you said. “Try not to feed his ego."

Kenji was on the mound, winding up for a pitch. He glanced towards the stands where he spotted you and your friends. With a smirk, he nodded in your direction.

"Is he waving at us?" another friend asked.

“No,” you shook your head. "He's just trying to show off. Watch, he'll probably strike this guy out just to make a point."

Sure enough, Kenji delivered a fastball that struck the batter out, the crowd erupting in cheers. He turned back to you, giving a mock bow.

Your guy friend laughed. "You weren't kidding,” he said. He's got a flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," you muttered. "He's always been like this."

More than once, on your rehearsals, you’d find Kenji standing by the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.

"Nice performance, (y/n)," he called out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Almost believed you were someone else."

You paused, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Kenji?” You asked. “Lost your way to the field?"

The director looked between the two of you, intrigued. "Friend of yours, (y/n)?" He asked.

"Hardly," you answered, crossing your arms. "Just someone who thinks he's more important than he actually is."

Kenji grinned, unfazed. "Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said. “You know, your acting. Seems like everyone's talking about it."

"Well, I'm flattered," you said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have real work to do."

As Kenji left, one of your fellow actors whispered, "He really gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

You sighed, shaking her head. "He's been doing it for years."

During hell week, your exams season, you’d spend your time in the library a little longer. Of course, Kenji knew about this. He’s been keeping tabs on you since coming across you when you were freshmen.

You were studying in a quiet corner of the library when Kenji walked in. He made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Studying hard, I see," he said, grinning. "Trying to finally beat me at something?"

You looked up, exasperated. "Kenji, some of us actually have exams to prepare for,” you replied. “Don't you have a game to practice for?"

"Already did," he said. "Thought I'd see what the academic life is like. How's the memorizing going? More lines to learn?"

"At least I use my brain for something other than sports," you shot back.

A nearby student, overhearing the exchange, glanced over with curiosity. "Do you two always bicker like this?"

You nodded, not missing a beat, “Pretty much. It's our thing."

Kenji laughed, leaning back in his chair, "Can't let her get too comfortable, can I?"

As he left, the student shook his head, smiling, "You two have a strange relationship."

You didn’t even know that guy or from what program he’s in. It felt like it was high school all over again where everyone knew of your rivalry, and it’s the only thing they knew between you two.

And soon enough, it will be what the world knows about you two.

PART THREE

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@hismistresss @sweetangle8 @aerivina

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie @wattpadsuckssohard @sakura-onesan @reggies-eyeliner @buggs-1 @miffysoo @spencerrxids @stupidbutsmart @marimargirlies @mixvchelle @lannnu @lailuv21 @christiinee @abracarabbit @youngbananamilkshake @flutterfly365 @o-schist @brazilsho @arrozyfrijoles23 @finestflora

[itsharleystuff]

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about losing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

[quinnylouhughesx43]

Rosey Red

summary: quick blurb (rough rough rough writing) on how y/n got the nickname rosey.

notes: UPDATED 6/21!! Still rough writing im exhausted and i wrote through tumblr drafts but i fixed spelling errors and added some details. hoping to get the new word count when i get to my laptop top!!I will most likely rewrite this so it isn’t such icky writing when I’m not at work. I got asked to stay over :(

word count: unsure now that it’s updated

This takes place around age 11, mid-January for it to be so cold.

It was the dead of winter, -4° Fahrenheit, and the three Hughes brothers were out in the street playing ball hockey. Having the time of their lives, or at least that’s what it looked like to those who caught a glimpse of them. The girl who lived directly across from the boys’ house, often watched them play from her living room window. Today was no exception to the rest, standing behind the window wrapped up in a cozy blanket while sipping hot chocolate she watched them run back and forth.

Despite the freezing temperatures she couldn’t help but be drawn outside by the boys' laughter and energetic game. Luke, the youngest Hughes, noticed her first. He paused, mid-swing for his shot with a wide grin spreading across his face, and he waved over to her. "Hey, want to join us?" he asked jogging over to her. Her eyes widened a little as she considered the invitation. Her and Luke were in the same class at school and knew of each other, but didn’t speak to one another unless they were grouped up. Their friend groups didn’t cross paths often, if at all. So the fact that Luke spoke to her, let alone invited her to join their game, it surprised her. After a moment of sheer shock shook through her, she nodded, setting her mug down on the porch railing. "Uhm sure, but I've never played before," she admitted, a bit embarrassed but excited at the chance to join her neighbors, and her classmate - the boy every guy wants to be friends with and every girl wants to ‘date’.

“Luuuuke! If she’s never played before we will have to explain everything.” Both of the younger children whip their heads towards the slightly older boy who was whining.

“Oh. If I am going to be a problem I won’t play. I can keep watching from my window.” Defeated she turned to go back into her house. Luke reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could grab her door knob. Luke was unsure what to say. He’d never grabbed ahold of a girl before with the intent to have her stick around. He acted impulsively. He knew that he was intrigued by her at school and he saw an opportunity to get to know her outside of school. A chance to be friends where their other friends’ opinions didn’t matter.

In the moment he says the first thing he thinks, “Wait.. Please? My brother Jack he is just so, well he’s all hockey and nothing else really and takes every style serious. He can play with Quinn and we can hang out?” He talked so fast he had to pause to catch his breath. “We could go watch a movie at my house or play a game or something .” He finished his offer plea and shifted awkwardly, silently pleading for her to come with him.

Her expression slowly shifted from upset that Jack had denied Luke’s invitation for her to join them, back to pleased.

“What do ya say Rosey?” He asks as she’d been quiet for quite some time. “Rosey? That’s… That isn’t my name.” She quietly mumbles, her cheeks darkening more than they were tinged from the blistering cold. “I know.” Luke chuckled a bit and shook his head. “I know that it is y/n, but I’m going to call you Rosey. Every time I catch you looking at me and smile back, your cheeks turn this Rosey red color.” Luke gave her a big cheeky smile. The kind of smile that crinkles the corner of your eyes. “Come on my mom has cookies and the best cozy blankets. I bet it’s better than the one you were bundled up in earlier. Plus your rosey red cheeks are giving you away for how cold you are”.

And from that day on, she was Rosey to the Hughes’s and to any one she was introduced to by Luke.

note: hii thank you for reading this blurb about Luke and Rosey! keep in mind Rosey is intended to be the fem!reader. I wanted to try something different for this au/series. I wanted to be able to write with the female reader and luke as the main characters in the piece and not consistently use y/n every time someone speaks about her. I feel like it will flow better. When we get to the point where we have other people’s as the main characters or thoughts, depending on who it is, Rosey will be referred to as y/n.

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

It all started under a duvet held up by an oar

Not so long ago I emailed Chris Tester, the voice of Heinrix van Calox in Owlcat’s recently released CRPG Rogue Trader, and asked if he would like to sit for an interview with me. Having some experience in interviewing people I like, most famously Oscar winner and all-around sweetheart Eddie Redmayne, this was not a completely nerve-wracking endeavour. And within a day of sending my email, Chris said yes. And what a pleasure it was interviewing him: Chris was so generous with his time, that the agreed upon 30 minutes turned into 50 minutes as we brushed upon many topics from his start as a theatre actor to his first voice-over role in a video game to his recently discovered hobby of playing D&D. Of course, we also spoke about all things Warhammer 40k, his new found fame brought on by voicing Heinrix and the insights he could share about the character.

I will publish this interview in three parts over the next week in text form and with the accompanying audio file (the audio quality is not spectacular but tumblr limits uploads to 10MB). If you quote or reshare, please quote me as the original source.

Part 2 of the interview

Part 3 of the interview

Fran: Thank you very much for taking your time.

Chris Tester: That's no problem. No problem at all.

F: So then let's start. You graduated in 2008.

CT: I did. Yes.

F: You started out as a stage actor. Did you always want to become a stage actor or an actor in general? Tell us a bit about your career.

CT: I always wanted to be a stage actor. Yes, as soon as I knew that I wanted to be an actor, which probably wasn't until I was a teenager. But yeah, my first passion was always the stage, and that was kind of borne out in my career. I would have been open to TV and film of course, if it had come along, I'm a huge fan of TV and film as well, but I never got an audition for any TV or film work.

I think I literally did about three short films in my 10, 12 years of actually professionally acting, and it is one of those industries where the more you do of one thing, the more you seem to find yourself doing the same thing to a degree. So yes, watching Shakespeare from an early age was one of my first passions.

And that was what first planted the seed of wanting to do it myself. The whole aspect of live performance is still something that I'm very passionate about. Up until 2020, when the world changed, I was trying to do two or three theatre shows a year, but since 2020, I haven't been near a stage and I doubt right now, especially with the way that the UK theatre scene is going, that I'm going to be back on stage anytime soon. I am resigned to that, but at some point in my career, I know I will be on stage again, because I can't live without it, but only for the right thing, both financially, but more importantly, creatively.

F: Your production company is currently on hiatus?

CT: I was the producer of a theatre company, which was run and was the baby of the director of the company, a guy called Ross Armstrong, who's one of the most talented writers and directors that I've ever worked with. I was helping out with a lot of the administration stuff so that he could still put me in plays. Instead of creating my own work because I'm not a very good writer or the best writer in the world, I support those people who will write me good parts. So yes, it is currently on hiatus, but never say never, we would always be looking to get back. It's difficult right now. It's difficult for all of us, because arts council subsidy, that way of being able to fund stuff, is drying up. We were doing a national tour of the UK when we were doing that [with the support of a subsidy]. There's even less money, there's even more people. I won't bore you with anything more than that, but it's kind of tough. We'd like to come back, but in the right way, and that's tricky to negotiate.

F: It's always hard as a stage actor to earn a living.

CT: Well, I've been spoiled by voice-over as well, and whereas when I was in my 20s and 30s then you're all about your art. And of course, I'm still all about my art, but I'm also about my wife and my cat and the mortgage and the bills and wanting to have nicer things to a degree as well. I've come to terms with that and voice-over does facilitate that as well as it opens you up to different roles and working with different people. So, I can't complain.

F: It's quite similar with making a living as a writer, because with a steady income you get used to a certain standard of living and once you have obligations and bills to pay, I think the stress on your mental health being creative and having all the stresses of regular life thrust upon you brings with it a challenge.

CT: It's a cliche we can very easily fall into: if I'm suffering, then it means I'm an artist. And that's not necessarily very true. It very often means that the art that we create only reflects one aspect of our lives, and it's usually a very tortured one. I am also about having wider experiences and broadening myself out. Whereas I think when I was in my twenties, I was thinking a bit more like: Oh, I'll experience the world and life through my art and just purely through my art. Whereas now necessarily I need to have a life outside of it as well, and then I can justify like I have the life so that I can feed my art or not, whatever. You know, I'll be a better artist by having a bit of a life outside of it. Maybe.

F: But that's what your twenties are for.

CT: Yeah, indeed.

F: Doing the crazy stuff, doing the band stuff 

CT: Yeah, yeah, exactly. So, there was certainly an aspect of that in my twenties.

F: So, what brought you to voice acting or voice-over work initially?

CT: Money. Video game stuff is kind of sexy and cool, and I'm a gamer, so that's important. Before I was a video gamer, I was a board gamer and off the back of that, I was a voracious video gamer, partly because I wasn't very good at team sports at school. I was always the person who was picked last in the football team. So that becomes part of your identity for better or worse. But video games, I was pretty good at, not amazing, but I was pretty good at, and I enjoyed it. And it gave me a different form of escapism as well, and off the back of that I always had an interest in them. 

So, the very first voiceover job was a video game: Dark Souls, which is quite a big franchise. At that time, I was your very typically jobbing actor. My acting agent came in and said: I got something for you. And so, I went in with that. But it was only in 2016, 2017 that I realised it was something that you could actually do yourself. People had recording studios at home and they were contacting people directly, not just going through agents. Because I'd basically written to the same 20 voice agents in the UK, mainly in London for like eight years in a row and not received anything. So, you keep knocking on those doors hoping. 

Before I'd even graduated from drama school, I'd burnt a CD and made these cases with my headshot on it and sent them all off at what at the time felt like great personal expense and didn't get anything for eight years in a row.  So, I was a bit like, I'm obviously doing something wrong, but I don't really know what, because I'm doing these workshops and getting good feedback. Then I found out through a couple of online courses, that there were ways and means of doing it myself, and that was a bit of a game changer for me, and within six months of having started, I was earning more through voice work than the bar job and the box office job that I was doing combined. Within six months, I was kind of like: “I gotta quit because I'm actually holding myself back from things.” So that was quite a big shift.

F: Somewhere you said, you started out under a duvet and with an oar.

CT: Yeah. On my website, I do have an image of it. [Dear reader, I could not locate this elusive photo] I literally had to take the duvet off my bed and put it into the living room, which was the quietest space in my then shared flat. I also had to wait until after one flat mate had watched TV and another one had used the table that had their washing on it. One of my flat mates had stolen an oar from some night out and that was perfect in order to be able to erect it over my head and the duvet as a frame. 

I did probably the first four or five months of voice recording like that. Probably about 10, 15 voiceover jobs that I actually got paid for, I was using that because it worked well enough. Since then, I've gone through various different iterations of a setup in the bedroom, to a setup in the hallway, to my current setup. In 2020 we moved to our first house, and this is the spare bedroom which I've had converted into a studio, which means my cat can be here asleep on me or near me getting fur everywhere, but it's fine. I can thrash around and I've got natural light to work in at the same time, which I find quite important. [Pictured below Chris' current setup.]

F: Very pretty. That's good. Guide us through a typical day of yours, if you like.

CT: Oh, sure. I mean, there is no typical day. And yet, and yet, and yet. A typical day for me is, because I am spending the vast majority of the day sitting in this room or somewhere close to this room, because I may need to record at short notice, because the vast majority of jobs are quite short notice. My priority is exercise for mental health more than anything. I've got some weights at the bottom of the garden, and I will get up first thing, and I will go there and I will do that after breakfast. And that's my minimal routine of physical activity done. 

And then I'll come back, and this is so rock and roll. Now what I do is, I spend like an hour on LinkedIn. And that's what you dreamed of as a creative person. Isn't it as an actor? I spend time on LinkedIn regularly every day, because it's a really good networking place for a lot of my types of work, and first thing in the morning, I'm a bit mentally sharper. So that's when I come up with a quick post that may be inspired by a bit of content that I've made elsewhere. That probably takes about 20 minutes and then I spend another 45 minutes to an hour engaging with people and saying hi and introducing myself and asking questions, whether that's with video producers or game developers or documentary makers or pretty much anything and everything. There are a lot of people who are active at that time. And so I do it.

And then after that, if I already have some recording lined up, then I'll prioritise mid-morning, because I've warmed up physically a bit more then, and I'm focused. So, you're going through the scripts, annotating the scripts, recording the scripts, editing the scripts. But then there could be live sessions at any time within that as well. I try to keep hours from nine till six. But occasionally, like with Rogue Trader, that was recorded at various different times of the day because we had people in New York, we had people in mainland Europe, and we had people in the UK. So all different time zones, so that can happen at any time. 

And then I try to do other kinds of bits and pieces of marketing whenever I've got free time to. I do use really exciting productivity hacks, like time blocking. Again, not something that as a creative individual, I was like: Oh God, this gets me so excited, because it doesn't, but it works. It's finding a system that works for you, but still has a certain kind of flexibility and fluidity. I'm trying to make sure that I get outside of the house, and that kind of stuff. 

Recently, over the last year, I’ve started doing audiobooks as well. That long form type of thing is quite nice to be able to dip into because sometimes you don't record for two, three days. You don't get the work. Nothing’s coming in. So, you’re marketing, but it kind of connects you back to the performance side of things to go: I can do a few chapters and you know, that kind of thing. So that's probably it. I try to formalise it, but you know, every voice actor’s day is radically different. There are people, some of the biggest names, going into different studios every week or every day. I very rarely, despite being based in London, I very rarely go into external studios. Like I would say 99 percent of the work I just do from home.

F: So how do you find the right voice for the specific type of voiceover work you do, maybe start with how did you find Heinrix's voice?

CT: Thankfully, Owlcat sent through quite a detailed casting breakdown. So, you get a picture, and that's pretty crucial, as well as a short bio, in terms of the background of the character, but not too much, because you have to sign an NDA, a non-disclosure agreement. But even if you do sign an NDA, I think developers are always slightly hesitant of giving you too much info about the game because things could still be changed. But I think I did get a picture of Heinrix, if not in the first audition, then certainly on the second one. From that you immediately think about the physicality and what might affect the voice, and there was also some direction in terms of what they were looking for. Anybody who has heard the character and me, they do not sound radically dissimilar. There's not a transformative process that I needed to go through, other than his sense of authority and the space that he takes up and the sureness that he has in that he has a kind of divine right from the emperor, so that level of confidence being brought through.

The other part of the audition was about the void ship [the Black Ship] that he'd been raised in and the horrors that he'd seen. And you as the actor have to do the detective work to go like this is showing another side, the more vulnerable side, the side that underpins all of his life choices up to this point. It's essentially playing the opposite to a degree. So it was kind of knowing when to let those elements bleed through a little bit. I think I had probably about a page worth of scripts, quite a lot of script actually to audition with. 

But I don't like to listen back to it a lot, because I think you get into your head. My biggest thing is stage work where it's ephemeral. You say it once and it could be different the next night. The whole point is that there's no one definitive way of doing things. Not quite the same with voice acting, where it's being recorded and you've got to get used to hearing it back. But I try not to overthink it. Just like record it two or three times with different impulses and then review and go like, those two seem pretty contrasting. I'll send those along and hope and then never hear anything back unless I do.

[misc-obeyme]

I've seen like videos and posts on the topic, but I'm curious about your take on it:

How everyone would react to the therapist MC being turned into a child due to like a potion or magical shenanigans

- 🦊

I think it depends on whether or not MC's mental capacity remains the same or if they also think and act like a child.

I mean, it'd be one thing if you had a child MC who just looked like a child, but was still themselves in every other way. They'd probably be trying to fix that, but it might not be as urgent, since MC would still be essentially self sufficient.

But if MC is suddenly acting like a child as well, that's gonna require them to also make sure that MC is okay. I also suppose it depends on what age MC becomes. Like if they're 12, that's concerning but they probably don't need constant supervision. Whereas if they're like five, they probably need someone watching them all the time just to make sure they don't get hurt or something.

I see Lucifer being very protective no matter what. Mammon is the one who gets into baby sitter mode. He comes up with all kinds of fun ways to entertain MC. Satan is the one who babysits both of them. Because SOMEONE has to make sure they're safe! Everybody else is working on how to fix things. Though they probably check in regularly out of concern.

Barbatos is the one who is cooking for MC, too. Because we all know kids can be picky eaters. He always makes extra because Beel eats half of it anyway.

I like the idea that Diavolo would also want to play with MC all the time. I can just see him joining Mammon and MC in the fun. Levi joins if he can distract them with video games. Belphie will also join but like... he's half asleep anyway. If MC is young enough to need naps, they will always nap with Belphie.

I kinda see Simeon being super protective, too. Like might even swoop MC away from the HoL because nobody there can be trusted as far as he's concerned. If MC is around Luke's age, they are inseparable until MC goes back to normal lol.

Solomon locks himself in his lab until he finds the solution to turn MC back.

[dragonageconfessions]

CONFESSION

I played all the dragon age games and now I finished Baulder's Gate 3 and I really enjoyed it despite not being too happy with Act 3 and how some of the characters have less content.

After playing BG3, I came to the realization that I believe both games should exist and one should not copy/imitate the other. I would personally miss all the companion banter if they got rid of it.

I believe people should let Dragon Age be Dragon Age and let Baulder's Gate 3 be Baulder's Gate 3. BioWare does some things better than Larian. Larian does some things better than BioWare. THEY DO NOT HAVE TO BE THE SAME.

And so help me if I see another post about the BG3 Studio need to take over Bioware, I am going to go off. I heard enough of that during the Witcher 3's heyday

Mod Note: Since you mentioned Witcher 3, I am going to share something. I used to get these massive manifesto sized submissions about how CD Projekt Red should take over Bioware. (I deleted them of course) I've received quite a few of them all the way to the release of Cyberpunk 2077. I have not received one since. I think many learned a difficult lesson that making shrines for companies for not being like the other companies really isn't a good thing because in the long run they will eventually end up doing the same things other companies do. And I have deleted about ten submissions about how Larian should take over Bioware. One was 2300 words

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for mentioning college again to my online friend, despite her telling me she knows it's not for her/not making a decision about it right now?

We both turned 18 this year, and are in our last years of highschool, and hopefully will both graduate this year! We met two years ago, and call and play games together sometimes, send each other selfies, share our silly crushes—she's the best girl friend I have right now and im very grateful for her.

Some info about me: both of my parents grew up very low income and from rough places and got full scholarships/a deal(like they pay for your college, and then you work for them after), because of this they're financially doing much better than both their families(my mother regularly sending money back home to pay for surgeries , bills, etc.). All of this is to say I've been raised with the mindset that higher education is my ticket to bettering my life, and I take school very seriously. I live in an area with a lot of immigrants, and all my friends do plan on going to college. Here is my disclaimer that I know college is *not* for everyone, and you do not need to go to college to be successful. But my friend is in the same stage in life as me, and I think it could be beneficial for her. She's not the best student at all(also home-schooled and does online schooling), but she's passing all her classes. We've talked about it before and I've asked if she's thought about college, and she said no because everyone in her family who went was just left with debt. Additionally she's not motivated in school now, so she doesn't think she would be motivated in college and would just end up as a "money dump". She's also talked about college with her mom, who said that she was only 18 and didn't need to make decisions about it right now. Right now her plan is to get a minimum wage job after high school(she's mentioned a fast food chain). I do think it would be good for her to get out of the house because right now she's basically stuck at home because her mom doesn't like going places. To my knowledge she has no friends irl, because of the homeschooling. Which is one of the reasons why I think college would be great for her--the chance to be with other people your own age.

We've only talked about college one time where I just asked, and after that I haven't mentioned it because I don't want to act like I have any say in her life decisions or make her feel bad. I've just been thinking about it lately because logically to me it seems like if she did want to go to college, now would be the best time because she would have the support of her online school where she has a counselor. Her mom didn't go to college and she isn't in regular contact with her dad.

For more context my family is middle class and I'm not sure what her financial situation is, but I do know comfortable but not deeply so. I would hate to bring up college if it's something she knows she cant afford( but long term I think going to college would help her make more money than any job she started now, which is why Im thinking about bringing it up again). I don't know if this is enough context, and I'm willing to provide more! I'll admit I'm not the smartest teen out there, so if you see any thing wrong with my thinking or think I'm a total asshole please tell me and I'll check my behavior. Im also keeping in mind her lack of motivation that she mentioned she had in school, and of course her mental health and wellbeing is of like. the utmost importance.

so, would I be the asshole for bringing up college with her again, despite knowing her situation? I really love this friend and the last thing I would want to do with her is be disrespectful and insensitive. thank you for very much, Tumblr! any advice you can give in the comments would be greatly appreciated.

What are these acronyms?

[alebrijediscordico]

i need to sleep soon, but i've been rotating pastra's new video with his own retelling of the jeff the killer creepypasta and. mein gott……

first of, Go Watch 🔫

and second of, spoilers under the cut, bc im gonna ramble abt it now!!

so there's thing ive noticed of a few rewrites i have read before is that many times the authors take a lot of creative liberties while rewriting and, well, many of them interested me a lot ngl! most of them are full rewrites with almost no similarities to the og story that isnt the characters and maybe one or two plot points, and i think about them and it amazes me how one can change a characters story and still make it feel like the same character

but the thing about pastra's rewrite, is that they understands Who jeff the killer is and What jeff is, and not only gives the original story's Feeling an actual structure, but a Why for it too

and that starts with the who. jeff is a villain in most narratives that had included him before, even if the original creepypasta aimed (?) for him to be sort of the empathetic, like. back then he was but a kid, maybe a violent one, but a kid that fell to his most destructive urges nevertheless (and with this extra, irrational fear that i think was more of a personal observation when i first hear of this creepypasta when i was Really young, of "oh god, what if turn out like Him" since he was around my age then, but anyways.)

but this jeff is not a kid anymore, is actually of college age, and for most of this rewrite's narrative he is this looming terror on the loose; death with a rotting, self made smile. and as more things are revealed, and both the detectives and audience get closer to jeff, at first one would think is going with the same, empathetic route like the original, with the bullies and stuff, but since we already know how that goes, pastra actually Uses that to get people by surprise and… no, he isn't just a kid, or in this case a man, Driven to madness by circumstances. he starts a villain, ends a villain

which perfectly pictures what jeff as a concept was and is in essence:

a brutal, unpredictable force of violence; a monster

and that's what makes him scary again, because he is still a human after all, but his actions slowly take away that until only his appearance, no matter how mutilated it is by that point, is what anchors him to his humanity; a tether to it made out of a spider's web string

like i remember listening to the narration in the background while playing splatoon some days ago, and sometimes having to pause the game just to listen more attentively. and in some parts, specially towards the end, making me actually feel kinda scared, not only for liu (which is also Very well written and the role he plays to connect jeff's past to the present and reveal his true intentions is Amazing), but for every single one of the witnesses too

and then that part. that one part after staying convinced most of the video that this rewrite would follow a similar plot as the original, liu says "but no. it was just… jeff" LIKE- that legit gave me Chills, and minutes after jeff's infamous phrase Actually used well??? like as i said, this actually brought back some of that fear from the original, tho it mostly impressed me for the execution, but genuinely what the fuck (legit said out loud while listening "are they gonna- no they won't- HE DID…")

n. well, this is less about the creepypasta now, but just me thinking how good pastra's storytelling is, the story's structure feels so clean and interconnected, the pacing is so nice but it has that touch of his that is across all his videos. and the voice acting!! the man genuinely sounded insane when jeff did, is incredible :D

[mochalottie]

Sibling Headcanons!

Back on it with my headcanons once again, this time with all the kiddos. (and no, you didn't see that post that I surreptitiously deleted I've no idea what you're talking about)

Spider and Neteyam are both opposites. Spider is the reckless, adventure seeking older brother, whilst Neteyam is the responsible thinks before he acts older brother. So if they're spending the day together in the forest, Spider is likely to go climbing up a tree, whilst Neteyam calls up to him from its roots to be careful.

It's the same when you add in the younger siblings. Spider feeds on their chaotic energy, usually playing games of chase, or hide and seek when they're meant to be getting ready for bed. Whilst Neteyam sits quietly, either with Lo'ak or Tuk in his lap.

When Lo'ak was born, it took a while for Spider to grow used to him, and even longer for Lo'ak to like Spider. It was often Neteyam who would hold the baby, and Spider would mind Kiri because they bonded quickly. But then, at the age of 4 Lo'ak (stupidly) gets lost in the forest, and Spider is the first to find him - mostly because he thought to look in the roots of the great trees rather than under bushes.

Kiri and Spider have a special relationship, in the sense that when you get them together in one room, the energy levels will climb exponentially until their smiles are so wide their cheeks hurt, and their laughter so loud it can be heard at the bottom of Hometree. They can have their quiet moments too; when they're tired, they can often be found sat together braiding each others hair, or napping with Spider wrapped around Kiri's spread eagled form.

Tuk, when she's old enough, refuses to be treated as a baby. Even though she's the youngest. She talks back to Neteyam when he suggests something, teases Spider as much as he does her, even treats Lo'ak as her personal pillow. But, she still loves her older siblings; she will happily sit quietly with Kiri in the company of the forest, joins Neteyam on his ikran for a short flight, goes with Spider to see [spoilers], and badgers Lo'ak to play with her daily.

When their parents are out on date night, it is usually Spider and Neteyam who mind the younger ones. Although, again, that turns into chaos. Mealtime becomes a mess, because neither boy knows how to heat the food their mum left behind so they end up going to Mo'at. Washing up takes an age, because Spider finds it great fun to splash his siblings and start a water fight. And bedtime almost takes an hour. However, by the time Jake and Neytiri return home, it's to the adorable sight of the kids tangled together in a cuddle pile like nantang pups, their arms and legs tangled and Neteyam stuck at the bottom.

Tags (let me know if I am bothering people with these please): @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie @spicymiilk @tuberculosis-chic @lloyd-007 @fluffygreenkoala

[fuckyeahbaldursgate]

Viconia - Plot Support extraordinaire

Just to preface this as I don't want this to seem like I am hating on BG3 as a diehard fan of the original series because I really do love BG3. I've completed it twice now and think it will absolutely be joining my annual rotation of BG1/SOD/BG2 playthroughs but it has its problems, much in the same way that the originals themselves have problems as well.

So after my Sarevok post I wanted to treat Viconia to the same critical analysis as unfortunately I think she also gets the short end of the evil plot stick. I get it, evil characters can be hard to get right but again similar to Sarevok, in my opinion, her character regresses to evil Shar mook number one rather than actually being Viconia. Worse still she's entirely at the mercy of being wrapped up in ShadowHeart's backstory.

Anyway this is a bit of a deep dive into Viconia's issues in BG3. Spoiler warning for both BG3 and BG2.

1. No Grey DeLise.

Again, similar to Sarevok, another prolific voice actor that has done recent video game work seemingly not approached for the role. I can't help but think that some of this is down to the rushed nature of act three generally and Larian just having to get whoever they could for the job in the time that they needed it. Unlike Jaheria and Minsc there's no attempt to mimic her original VA or get someone who sounded like her so she ends up sounding completely and utterly different.

This version of Viconia sounds haughty and stuck up which while the original Viconia VA has a degree of arrogance, she is also pretty sultry. Haer'dalis even comments that she has 'the throaty voice of the most expensive courtesan' and Viconia deliberately plays on the stereotype of the sensual female drow with certain male party members for her own benefit e.g the male Bhaalspawn, Edwin, Sarevok and even Anomen (I cover this a bit here and here).

2. Her in game design...just isn't great.

Let's be honest, combined with the voice, Viconia's design basically makes her unrecognisable. She looks like a generic old drow lady to the point that I did have 'Is that meant to be Viconia?' moment when I first met her.

Now I appreciate there is minor controversy with Viconia's original BG2 portrait (which is probably the most recognisable image of her) because the artist actually used a famous porn star as the base for it.

For info, this was a common practice at Bioware at the time as they used to use lots of different images as bases for portraits. They finally got into legal trouble for it in NWN where due to various copyright claims they had to change quite a few portraits.

More recently, I think that Beamdog actually did quite a good job of recreating a faithful adaption of her original portrait in Siege of Dragonspear while presumbably navigating the original copyright issue.

In comparison to her BG3 portrayal, my first impression was she looks incredibly old. Now as far as I'm aware we've never been given a canon age for Viconia but we do know she was around for House DeVir being defeated by the Do'Urden house so she has to be at least 100 years old by the time of BG1... but her character level is between 2 and 6 (depending on the party's XP) so a relatively inexperienced cleric. With that in mind I definitely assumed she was on the younger side (maybe 200-300?). Either way 5e elves can live between 750 to 1000 years although there are instances in the Forgotten Realms books of drow living to over 2000. Now tack on the additional 120 years for BG3 in my mind it would definitely put her in the middle aged category but not necessarily anywhere near the end of her life. Critically she would be aging much slower than Jaheria but with those wrinkles she looks WAY older than her. I honestly feel cheated of an interaction between the two about how hagged and old Jaheria looks in comparison to herself.

In terms of her outfit, although initially she wears the Sharite mask and hooded outfit, which is good for concealing her identity, we eventually end up with Viconia in a spider adorned dress. This seems like a strange choice given the spider motif when she literally stopped worshipping Lloth for Shar - maybe she's being ironic? The lack of armour,when she's a cleric that knows there's a good chance she's about to have a fight seems kind of stupid. If you do choose to fight her, she then looks entirely comical in her light dress accompanied by an enormous oversized shield and mace.

For me though this really identifies her design problem: her leather armour was a critical part of her original design. Given that we only see portrait style headshots of BG characters, the decision not to include her leather corset with the three straps and the head band is really what makes her unrecognisable. It would be like removing Minsc's head tattoo or Jaheria's braids or Sarevok's armour (which even with all the problems I talked about in my post, at least he got to keep that).

My hope is that some enterprising modder out there makes a more BG2 accurate version of her in future. Larian, please give my lady her leather armour back or maybe even a justicar outfit!

3. Ignores her BG1/2 alignment, motivations and twists her original epilogue.

Now I do appreciate BG3 deliberately assumes that the events of BG1/BG2 are a little bit fluid, which Jaheria confirms this when she talks about the bards that tell stories of her slaying gods or bedding them depending on which one you listen to. But the game goes onto confirm certain events in Viconia's history that don't really make sense:

A.) The game confirms that Viconia did travel with the Bhaalspawn but not for the entirety of the game. Minsc informs you that after trying to dissect Boo she was expelled from the group. I have to admit this story didn't gel with me at all because it implies Viconia is some sort of chaotic evil idiot (reminder: Viconia is neutral evil with a 16 INT score and 18 WIS score in BG2) who would deliberately provoke a giant raging berserker man by murdering his beloved pet. Like that's the sort of thing I could see Xzar (who is completely and utterly mad) doing but not Viconia. What benefit would she get out of it? Maybe it would be a good tribute for Shar but that would be a pretty short term benefit. In fact in BG2 Viconia offers begrudging respect to Minsc for his effectiveness in battle, she knows he's powerful and she wants to be on the right side of that. Minsc for his part does what he does with many of the female characters, particularly in BG2 and makes her a proxy substitute for Dynaheir offering to protect her. That's not to say she won't insult people (Aerie and Jaheria or characters who she perceives as weak often get the brunt of it) but she's generally smart enough to stay out of an actual fight. Important to note that in any of NPC conflicts that end in a fight in BG1/2 (e.g. Kivan, Ajantis, Keldorn) it's never Viconia that's starts the fight.

B.) The Waterdeep cult.

In Viconia's epilogue, which you only get if you kept her for the end of Throne of Bhaal and you didn't romance her, Viconia goes on to do a few things which you can see below (obviously massive spoilers for BG2) :

So it feels like Larian has taken the first part of this ending but nothing else, which really leaves a lot of questions. We know Shar isn't entirely happy with Viconia based on her diary entries so why is Shar still giving powers to a woman that basically killed a whole bunch of her followers? Why is Viconia still working for a goddess that hates her? Why is she so accepting of Shar's plot to groom Shadowheart as her replacement? Why on earth hasn't Viconia got the fuck out of dodge, which is pretty much what she has been shown to do in the past? And this comes neatly onto my next point.

4. Viconia is just a plot device for Shadowheart.

I love Shadowheart and I love her arc but honestly Viconia being the Mother Superior just felt like a way of inserting her into the game in a way that didn't really fit especially when Viconia's diaries in BG3 show that she knows that Shar intends for Shadowheart to essentially replace her as one of her prominent followers/chosen. The whole plot ignores two critical points about Viconia and her backstory:

Firstly the reason Viconia left the Underdark in the first place was because she refused to sacrifice a child to Lloth and Lloth turning her brother into a drider after he saved her from being sacrificed. Now Viconia is many things, she's self serving, cruel and dedicated to her own survival at the expense of anything and anyone else (quintessential neutral evil through and through) but at the same time she threw away her position, caused the downfall of her house and got most of her family murdered to save a child. You're telling me she would then willingly go along with Shar's plan to deliberate plan to kidnap and repeatedly torture a child for YEARS whilst also training said child to replace her? My girl doesn't have many lines in the sand but harming children definitely seems like one of them. I actually wandered whether Shadowheart not liking to harm children / prefers saving them is not just about her being a secret Selunite but also a potential a hint of Viconia's influence.

Secondly, that plot seems to ignores Viconia's other primary driver, which is to survive: it's why she leaves the Underdark, it's why she travels with the Bhaalspawn, it's why she worships Shar and it's why she murders an entire cabal of Shar's followers after one person betrayed her. Now if we ignore that she has qualms about children, you're telling me that she would instead essentially train her replacement to be an amazing cleric who is 99% likely to murder her? I'm pretty sure Viconia would have tried to kill Shadowheart way before her becoming a justicar or simply skipped town as she has done before.

The alternative?

Personally I would have liked to have seen Viconia ultimately involved in a plot to overthrow the Mother Superior or maybe doing something even crazier like going after Shar herself out of revenge following her fall from grace after the events of the Waterdeep cult. Maybe she works with the Absolute to get her revenge and keep her divine powers - hell who better to help Ketheric with the Nightsong in Shar's temple then an ex priestess of Shar?

If not the Absolute then Shar's got plenty of enemies and Viconia has converted before. Maybe she could have joined the team to achieve a particular goal while giving fans of the original series the opportunity to have one of the original evil characters to join the crew. I would have loved to see the contrast with Minthara who is still fairly fresh from leaving drow society and a complete blunt instrument compared to Viconia's more subtle ways. Maybe Viconia would take the paladin under her wing, maybe introduce her to a new patron god (something I don't think is ever explained is how Minthara still retains her divine powers given neither Lloth or the Absolute are fueling them anymore). Shevarash the elven god of revenge, would be a fantastic fit for both of their back stories (which would also be a nice little throw back to Viconia's heated / sometimes fatal arguments with Kivan in BG1) presuming that Viconia could get over her disdain for the elven pantheon by that point in the timeline. The fireworks with Jaheria of course would be grand while Minsc I feel would be very conflicted given his mind's tendancy, as noted above, to sub in any female magic user as Dynaheir.

[recreationalfanfics]

Some Assassin's Creed x Genshin Brainrot I've been having:

1. A reader whose like Barbara. I have her and I would absolutely kill for her. Like, the reader is the daughter of a doctor who isn't necessarily an assassin but married one so they help when one of the assassin's get hurt and the reader sings as she works to help them and the assassin's can't help but smile. AND I MEAN THIS IN A PLATONIC WAY, LIKE, YOU ARE THE SAME AGE AS BARBARA but I just think it'd be a cute idea because you're a very good medic and doctor and the assassin's enjoy seeing you. Like if you're in Connor's time period, he will be silent as you sing but he does have the smallest smile on his face and if you ask him: "Are you feeling better, Mr. Ratonhnhaké:ton?" he's internally adopted you already- JACOB ABSOLUTELY ADORES YOU, the only child in London who HASN'T tried to rob him, and Evie definetly has a soft spot for you two. When you tell Evie that you really look up to her and that you want to be just as smart as her someday, she gets kinda shy and Jacob gets jealous BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE LIKE HER, HE'S SUPER COOL TOO- I can see some of the more crude assassin's trying to watch their language around you. EDWARD STRUGGLES SO HARD but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable so he TRIES HIS BEST. Arno is very gentlemanly so if he's ranting to someone while you're fixing him up, he'll politely tell you to cover your ears. And so on and so forth-

2. Childe x Ratonhnhaké:ton! Reader. Like in the sense that the reader has his personality and beliefs. This dynamic would be interesting to me in the sense that Childe fights because the Abyss gave him that need but the reader would fight because it is their duty. Also because of the dynamic that'd they'd both be unhinged in their own way. Childe is more obviously unhinged but let's not forget that Ratonhnhaké:ton ran through a city that was being BOMBED just to get to the man who he was after. So let's say the reader's target is Childe and they just run through an entire army. Normal people would be terrified by that kind of persistence, especially if that person wants them dead, but Childe just having the biggest grin on his face because he might be in love- However, Childe also loving the kind and compassionate side of the reader and how that kindness and compassion never falters. Not to mention that he'd definetly admire how honest the reader is and like how the reader does have some sympathy for Childe and his childhood but how they can't let that sympathy distract them from doing what's right.

- OKAY SO YOU KNOW THOSE SAGAU GENSHIN STORIES? Maybe something like that where the reader is an ISU hybrid so they have the golden blood and skin markings that light up but because of how the ISU act in the Assassin's Creed verse, THEY ARE HELLA DISTRUSTING OF THE ARCHONS AND THE ARCHONS ARE SO HURT BC WHAT DID THEY DO-

- Just an Assassin's Creed reader in general somehow getting into the Genshin universe PURELY BECAUSE I think it would be funny how they would absolutely outclimb everyone. Like, I have a hard time with climbing in Genshin because I always forget the stamina bat but in AC, most of the game play is just climbing really tall things so the reader just escaping everyone by climbing taller than them. Or like, they're constantly found brooding on some sort of high ground. Also because imagine they get a vision and one of the characters is all: "Okay, now we'll teach you how to use Elemental Vision-" and the reader is all: "Oh, is it like Eagle vision?" and they're all: "Wtf is eagle vision-"

- THE ASSASSIN CREED READER HAVING AN EAGLE SIDEKICK, IDK, I JUST THINK THAT'D BE COOL.

- Diluc would actually be a good member of the Brotherhood, like, I don't have the creativity to write it but someone give that man a hidden blade.

[wordsbyrian]

Polyglot - USWNT x Reader

Summary: After one odd interview, Kelley, Sonny, and some others stop at nothing to figure out what Y/N has been (not) hiding.

A/N: I’ve been lurking for a while and finally decided to post something. Hope you enjoy it.

It's not unusual for you to find yourself in situations where the team has just found out something about you and then they proceed to act like you had been hiding it from them.

In fact, that is the exact situation you find yourself in right now, the whole team staring at you as walk into the locker room after you finish a post-game interview with a Spanish-speaking outlet.

"Why didn't you tell us that you could speak Spanish," Kelley asks the moment the locker room door closes behind you.

"You didn't ask. Besides, it's not like it's a secret, Ashley and Sophia have known for a while now."

Kelley's head immediately turns to stare at the two women across the locker room, who are just trying to mind their own business.

"You guys knew and didn't say anything," she whines, beginning to stomp her way across the space.

Before she can reach them though, Alex calmly blocks her path and leads Kelley to her own locker, whispering in hushed tones, presumably something about leaving you guys alone so everyone can get back to the hotel.

You think it works because she doesn't bring it up again until dinner later that night.

"So are you going to tell me why none of you ever mentioned that the baby can speak Spanish," she asks, plopping into a seat directly in front of the three of you, Sonnett taking the seat immediately to her left.

At the same time that you mumble about not being a baby, Ashley answers her.

"Once again, no one was hiding it. In fact, we thought that you all knew already, she's been on the team for like two years."

"Of course we didn't know," Sonnett says, "The only times we've ever seen her sit still for more than five minutes, she was asleep!"

"You're one to talk," you say, "The first time I met you, you were wrestling Kelley and Rose in the hotel lobby."

"Whatever, that doesn't explain how you know Spanish," she snarks.

"If you must know, my childhood babysitter didn't speak much English and I spent six days a week with her from the ages of one to 12. Also, I'm not sure if you remember this but I've been living in Barcelona for almost four years."

"Wait, so when did you learn English?"

Kelley mirrors the confused look on Sonnett's face and much to your surprise a few others sat close enough to hear the conversation.

"At the same time," you say, finally looking at them. "It's called simultaneous bilingualism and it's actually really prevalent. It's estimated that half of the world is functionally bilingual and that a majority of that number consider themselves to be native speakers of two languages."

"Sonny, I think the baby just called us stupid," Kelley says, shellshocked.

"She did," Ashley and Sophia speak at the same time and you watch as both Kelley and Sonnett deflate at the plain way they say it.

You thought that was the end of the entire situation until during the next camp a video surfaced online of you speaking French with the media after Barcelona's loss to Lyon in the Champions League final last season.

You had been tagged in the clip what felt like a million times, so it's not surprising that Kelley and Sonentt managed to get their hands on it.

This is how you found yourself hiding in Alex and Kelley's hotel room playing with Charlie, it was the last place the Frat Daddies would think to check. Hopefully, they wouldn't think of it until it's time to leave for the weightlifting session.

"Do you really think that you can avoid them forever," Alex asks, watching as you catch Charlie when she flings her little body off the bed at you.

"No, but I only need to avoid them until we get on the bus because then they'll have to deal with Christen and Sanchez when they try to mess with me."

"If you say so."

"I do."

You're right for the most part, the only time it falters is when Kelley comes back to grab her things before training. That results in the team being treated to the sight of her chasing you down the hallway with Charlie thrown over your shoulder and Alex yelling behind you about making sure not to drop her child.

Outside of that though, it goes off without a hitch with both your best friend and your team mom taking turns glaring at Kelley and Sonnett when they attempt to bother you.

That might be why it's so surprising when Lindsey is the one who brings it up during movie night as you wait for Sam and Kristie to finish arguing about what movie to watch.

"Y/N, truth or dare?"

"Uh, truth," you answer, not bothering to lift your head from its place smushed into a pillow. You’re comfortably lying between Christen and Tobin, with Mal sprawled over the three of you and moving would definitely ruin that.

"How many languages are you fluent in," she asks.

"Fluency is an arbitrary scale that varies from person to person," is the answer you give, even though you know it won't be enough for them to leave you alone.

“For the love of god, would you please just answer the question so they stop bothering both you and me,” Sanchez groans from her place on the other bed.

“Fine. I speak and read English, Spanish and French. I can read German,” you say, struggling to sit up from under Mal’s body weight. “I can only flirt in Dutch but I’m working on learning to read it. Also, Rolfö is teaching me Swedish.”

The line about flirting earns you multiple pinches from the women in the bed with you, but for the most part, everyone is stunned into silence.

The first person to make any sound is Sophia laughing so hard that she can barely get out her words, “Of course, Y/N/N is learning Dutch to talk to girls, it’s like U17s and U20s all over again.”

While you roll your eyes and wish that the conversation would end there, it doesn’t because Kristie says what everyone is thinking.

“So you, the person who dropped out of high school to play in Spain, speak three languages and are actively learning three more?”

“Yes, but can we stop telling people I dropped out of high school because I didn’t.”

“You being a genius really explains why your people skills are so severely lacking with anyone who doesn’t play soccer,” Lindsey says, ignoring you.

“All in favor of changing the baby’s nickname from ‘the baby’ to ‘baby genius’ raise your hands.” Kelley laughs when she sees you're the only one to keep your hand down. “ Motion passes, Y/N shall henceforth be known as 'Baby Genius'.”

“Don’t call me that, please,” you beg.

“Sorry Baby Genius, I’ve already changed your name in the group chat.” Her statement is backed up by the synchronized vibrating of everyone’s phones.

All you can do is let out another groan and sink back into the bed while everyone laughs.

But the night goes on and the subject ends up being dropped permanently. At least that’s what you think until somehow you find yourself, alongside Mal, being called over to do a post-game interview with ESPN at the end of the game later that week.

Most of the questions are directed at her, unsurprisingly, but eventually, the reporter turns her attention to you.

“Y/N, you guys had your hands full defensively tonight and there was even a moment where you had to track back and clear a ball off the goal line after a mishandling by Naeher. What was going through your mind at that moment?”

“Uhm, mostly a lot of inappropriate language but also the fact that I kinda caused Lys to mishandle the ball and it’d really suck if it went in because of my mistake, so I had to make sure that didn’t happen,” you say, wiping some of your sweat away.

“One more question, Y/N,” she says. “Recently, a ton of videos of you speaking both French and Spanish have surfaced online, is this a new development or have you been hiding this talent?”

“I’ve not been hiding it, most of my interviews since going to Barcelona have been in Spanish but no one in America really asks about it. I’ve been speaking both Spanish and French for a long time now, it’s not that impressive,” you say, unsure if the heat in your cheeks is leftover from the game or because of the spotlight you find yourself forced into.

It only gets worse because Mal takes it upon herself to brag on your behalf.

“She’s just being humble, Y/N spends all of her free time studying languages and is working on three others right now.”

The reporter looks shocked, “Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“A skilled soccer player and a natural born polyglot, you can really do it all. Y/N, Mal thank you for your time.” She turns back to the camera before sending the broadcast back to whoever happens to be in the studio.

As you walk away, Ashley walks over to you, slinging her arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t look so grumpy. We won and now the world knows you’re a genius,” she says.

“She called me a polyglot,” you grumble.

“Ok?”

“I’m not, I only speak three languages.”

Sanchez just sighs and shakes her head, continuing to lead you toward the sidelines where fans are waiting for photos and autographs.

“Don’t worry Baby Genius, we’ll work on your people skills.”