#I freaking love that block game man

[wren-kitchens]

me n my friends do the minecraft roleplay (less so recently but a LOT ab half a year ago) and every time I am an animal hybrid because I love it and it’s fun but I cannot choose between which are my favourites

like, the first time we did any kind of rp I was an enderman, and so for a bit that was just My Thing, and then the next animal I was was a mooshroom (which oml I LOVE can you imagine the big ol’ ears and swishy tail and lil horns aaa), but then we started using origins more (the enderman was from origins and it remains one of my favourite origins) and I was a LOT of things in pretty rapid succession: enderman, fish, ghost, bird (we got a data pack)

genuinely I can’t decide whether I like fish (they SWIM I had a SHIPWRECK HOUSE and I had a TRIDENT and I made PIPES so I could swim everywhere over land before I became a tryhard and got literally like 4 conduits) or ghost (which has become My Brand in a sense, and also I absolutely love it because I can go through walls and I can FLOAT DUDE and i can go invisible and I can POSSESS THINGS and I always use my monochrome skins with that origin cause I love it—also ghost is like ghost mooshroom so I have all the super cool stuff from that but also GHOST MOOSHROOM)

anyway fish and ghost mooshroom are 11/10 but bird is a close second

[licorishh]

Replayed Modern Warfare 3 2011 on Veteran tonight and goooooooood night. Blood Brothers never gets any easier to watch no matter how many times you've done it and the ending really never misses huh

I apologize for the amount of yapping in the tags I reread it all on mobile and started giggling because it went on for so long but eh. Blessed are those who won't shut the freak up and all that

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Ok, I don't really post here, but there's a Merlin AU idea that's been rattling around in my skull like it's a pinball machine and I need to get it out, so here we go:

Imagine an AU where Balinor doesn't die and banishes Kilgarrah before sneaking away so Uther doesn't catch him and can't put his newfound son in danger. Of course, both he and Merlin are heartbroken about having to be separated again after just finding each other, but they work out a way to keep in touch and occasionally meet in secret.

And this is all well and good, and everything in the show just kinda proceeds as normal up until about season 4, where we have the knights of the round table well-established in Camelot.

It'd make sense that after a few years of travelling around with Kilgarrah, Balinor would be pretty well-known and well-feared throughout all the five kingdoms as "that dragonlord who escaped the purge and now travels around on the back of a giant dragon", and people all over Albion are kinda terrified of the guy.

Rumors say that he never smiles, that he can kill a man in a split second without even utterring a spell, and can decimate kingdoms with the dragon under his total command. That makes for a formidable figure!

And then one day, Balinor is trying to sneak into Camelot to visit his son (he heard Merlin got hit by a dorocha and wants to make sure he's ok!), and the knights see him and freak out because holy shit that's one of the deadliest guys in Albion!

They're in a tense standoff, with Balinor threatening to call down the dragon on them if they don't let him through. The knights are all ready to give their lives to at least buy the people in the castle time to evacuate, when suddenly Merlin and Arthur make it to the standoff. Arthur immediately starts strategizing with his knights on how they're going to negociate with the sorcerer in an attempt to make sure that they aren't all slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Merlin just laughs and pushes through the rows of knights blocking Balinor's path to the castle. The knights, being very fond of Merlin and not wanting to see their kind little friend be brutally murdered by one of the most terrifying men in exsistence, are trying to grab Merlin and pull him back to safety or shouting at him to get back, but Merlin manages to avoid them as he walks up to Balinor.

For a horrifying moment, the knights and Arthur think that Merlin is about to sacrifice himself for them, but Merlin breaks into a huge grin, yells "Dad!", and runs right into Balinor's arms.

(Merlin and Balinor reason that now that Arthur's king, they might as well start easing him into some of Merlin's less shocking secrets)

And even more shockingly to the knights, Balinor hugs him back, asking Merlin all about how he's been doing, how are his studies under Gaius, etc etc.

And all of the knights just bluescreen. Because the math isn't mathing on this one. Hunith + Balinor = MERLIN?! Does not compute.

They're all pondering how could someone as joyful, friendly, and kind as Merlin be the spawn of a terrifying man like Balinor?? They just cannot comprehend it. The manservant who they all know and love came from this sorcerer who's name is synonymous with the threat of death and destruction??

They're all jolted back to reality however when Balinor asks Merlin if he wants to come back to Balinor's newly-renovated stronghold in the mountains (that's only accessable by riding a dragon) to learn more about one day becoming a dragonlord. And suddenly, the knight understand why Balinor's here. He wants to kidnap Merlin from them and twist him into a terrifying sorcerer to carry on Balinor's legacy!

It all basically dissolves into a long game of high-stakes tug-of-war between Balinor and the knights + Arthur, and Merlin's just enjoying spending time with his father and his friends.

Balinor will just casually crash one of their quests while riding Kilgarrah and "kidnap" Merlin while the knights fight to keep Merlin with them.

Balinor eventually gives Merlin Aithusa so he can get practice raising dragons, and the knights see it as some evil scheme to make Merlin betray Camelot and attack it from within, but damn it Merlin's already adopted the damn thing so now they're stuck with a baby dragon.

IDK if I'd ever write a fic about it since I'm pretty busy writing another fic rn, but I thought that it was a funny idea to throw out there!

PS: if anyone wants to read my current project, where I'm giving Sir Leon more anxiety with each chapter after a kinda-botched magic reveal on Merlin's part (and Merlin may or may not be an eldritch god), feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54027337/chapters/136771564

Thank you all for sticking with my incoherent rambling! :D I hope you have a great day/night!

Also, please let me know if you guys wants to hear more of the ideas that pinball around in my head!

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Chapter 8

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

This chapter makes me want to cry especially knowing what I’ve prewritten for them.

Content Warnings - Talk of rape and murder, mental torture, talks of prostitution, tooth rotting fluff

One moment you were all sitting on the beach, the next moment, Finnick was bolting into the jungle after Katniss. You get up to follow but Johanna tells you to stay put.

She returns a minute later, beckoning for you and Peeta to follow. Something must be wrong with them.

You can spot Finnick and Katniss huddled on the jungle floor, hands over their ears as they try to block out some kind of noise.

“Jabberjays,” Johanna sighs. “They’re stuck in that wedge for the next hour.”

“Can they hear us?” Peeta asks as he tries to break the barrier with his machete.

“Nope,” Johanna states.

You sit on the other side of the barrier from Finnick, watching as the birds torture him. His nose is bleeding but otherwise he seems physically unharmed.

Who would they use against you if you were in there? Would they use the voices of your dead family?

The only person they could hurt you with was the one sitting right in front of you.

An hour can feel like an eternity when you have to sit and watch the one person you love slowly lose their mind. When the barrier drops, Peeta runs to Katniss while you walk slowly towards Finnick.

Sitting down in front of him, you set your good hand next to his to alert him to your presence.

“Finn,” you sigh, seeing the pain in his face when he looks up at you.

“You were screaming,” he states. “They were torturing you and I couldn’t stop them.”

“I’m ok,” you reply.

You sit with him in silence while Johanna rants about the games and Katniss freaks out about her sister. I guess that’s who’s voice she heard.

“Can we go to the beach?” Finnick asks and you nod, walking down with him to the shore.

The two of you sit on the edge of the water, closer than you would usually sit but you can tell he needs the comfort.

“I can’t lose you,” he tells you as you stare out towards the cornucopia.

“I can’t promise you won’t,” you respond. “But I’ll try.”

“No you have to promise,” he states with pain in his voice. “I can’t lose you.”

You look at him and see how honest he is. As much as you’d like to hope he could survive without you, you worry he can’t.

“You won’t,” you sigh, looking into his sea green eyes.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks. “I need to know you aren’t going to slip away from me.”

You allow him to grab your hand, feeling his calloused fingers against your smooth ones. The jabber jays must have really gotten to him as he never asks for physical contact with you.

Higher up the beach, Katniss notices the scene by the water.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to touch her,” she comments.

“Only he is,” Johanna replies. “Nobody else.” This made sense to Katniss after hearing her scream for Finnick for an hour.

“Why does touching her set her off?” Katniss asks. “I didn’t see her react that way in her games.”

Johanna sighs and looks out towards her two friends.

“She was, uh, raped during her victory tour,” she explains. “Killed the guy during it and hasn’t spoken or allowed people to touch her since. That’s why the capital calls her Feral, but they skewed the story to make it seem like she attacked him unprovoked.”

Katniss silently stares at Y/N, unsure of how to process that information.

“He was a game maker,” Johanna continues. “An important man in the capital. She never healed from it.”

��I don’t know how one would,” Beetee chimes in. “She’s been through a lot.”

“Why aren’t they together?” Peeta asks the older victors.

“They’re stubborn,” Johanna shrugs. “She doesn’t want to hurt him and he has a complicated deal with the capital that would make dating hard.”

“It would be hard to date all those capital women with a girl back home,” Katniss mutters.

“Don’t assume he likes jumping from woman to woman in the capital,” Johanna angrily states. “All victors have duties we don’t have a say in. Ever wonder why most of us have families anymore?”

Katniss swallows and looks at Johanna, shocked by this revelation.

“That could have easily been you.”

“What do you want to do when all of this is over?” Finnick asks you. You’re still holding hands and you’ve moved to rest your head on his shoulder. For once the contact isn’t bothering you.

“Go back to four,” you reply. “To our old routine.”

“That would be nice,” Finnick hums. He wishes so badly that he could tell you everything but he can’t. He barely convinced Plutarch to put you on the rescue list. He wasn’t sold on the idea of you being brought to 13 with your unpredictability.

When this is all over he wants to go back to four with you. He wants to move out of victors village to your own house by the sea with a big garden you can walk freely in. He wants to spend the days outside with you, showing you around the district you haven’t explored in 5 years.

He wants you to be his, permanently. He thinks you’d say yes, but at the same time he isn’t certain. He’s never asked you out for the simple reason that Snow would kill you if he did. He told Finnick as much.

He hopes you realize how much he loves you, even if he can’t show it.

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[wileys-russo]

Mearps with a reader who plays on like a local Sunday league football team so literally nothing close to professional, it’s just for fun. But Mary makes every game she can stood with her hood up on the sideline cheering when you so much as touch the ball or like shows off the fact that she’s yours by rolling up to get you from training or something? And you come home and dinners made “because she’s proud of you for training hard”

sunday league II m.earps

"-so are we all just expected to ignore the fact that there's an actual lioness watching us play right now." your teammate breathed out with a shake of her head making you smile.

"yes you are! heads back in the game." you ordered sternly, everyone huddled up for half time taking a water break. "she's like the least judgmental person ever guys we go through this issue every single week, relax." you chuckled as their eyes continued to flicker to your girlfriend on the sidelines.

you'd warned her over and over how intimidating her presence was at your grassroot level sunday league games however forever the proud girlfriend her solution to the problem was to just show up in a hoodie and cover her face as if that helped at all.

the ref calling for everyone to return to the pitch you turned to put your water bottle back, catching her eye as she gave you a toothy grin and a wink. "come on captain you can kiss your girlfriend later." your team mate teased as she grabbed you, dragging you back to the pitch.

though it was hardly the wsl that didn't mean none of you took your games seriously, so up by one you were determined to keep that lead if unable to widen it, shot after shot being blocked as the opposition resorted to a 5 man defensive line.

"lets go 14!" you heard mary call out your number proudly with an encouraging clap as you took another shot but it bounced off the post, kicking the ground in frustration and just waiting for the whistle to blow.

unfortunately for you luck seemed to be on their side. you watched with a defeated sigh as the ball swooshed into the back of your net, not even a minute later reprised by the whistle.

you did your best to build your team back up in a post game huddle, highlighing the positives of the game rather than the negatives and telling them you'd see them all at training on tuesday night. after a bried debrief with your coach he clapped you on the back and you grabbed your bag making your way over to mary.

"hi gorgeous." the older girl smiled sympathetically, opening her arms as you melted into her with a tired sigh. "oi, none of that. you played wonderfully love!" she assured softly as you reached up and tugged at the hood which covered your head.

"your disguise didn't work very well baby, you freaked them all out again." you smiled in amusement. "well i'm not staying away so they better get used to it." mary grinned and nudged your chin up, sweetly kissing your lips before taking your bag off you and pulling you into her side walking the two of you to her car.

"i had to fight off tooney and maya from coming with me you know? imagine if three lionesses came to watch, your team might faint on the pitch." mary teased as you rolled your eyes and she threw your bag in the back, opening your door for you.

"you know i still could-"

"no! i love you so very dearly but we do not need a mary earps masterclass at training." you shook your head but kissed her cheek in thanks anyway, knowing she meant no harm. "you look good as a wag. you know i could get you a spare jersey to wear next time?" you smirked wiggling your eyebrows as she started the car.

"oh my god and if you could sign it for me? i'd simply die i'm just your biggest fan!" mary gushed sarcastically, fanning her face with a sigh as you playfully shoved her head and she started to drive the two of you home.

~

"dinner's already done, go have a shower and i'll dish up." your girlfriend smiled softly, pecking your lips and nodding upstairs. "you're the best." you melted at the thoughtful act of domesticity.

"i know, you're so lucky." mary sighed dramatically as you shoved her. "i'm really proud of you though. my pretty hard working captain." the taller girl smiled much more sincerely as you craned your neck up to press your lips to hers.

"mm if this continues we'll both need a shower. go on love!" she pushed you away, smacking your bum with a wink. "doesn't sound like the worst idea?" you hinted, holding your hand out hopefully as she shook her head.

"later, if you play your cards right." mary smiled suggestively as she returned to the kitchen. "bold of you to hold that over me when its you who has the self control problem earps." you teased her as she flipped you off and you disappeared upstairs.

"you know baby it's just such a shame you're a...striker." mary gagged later on, forcing out the word as you punched her in the arm and continued drying the dishes she handed you.

"some of us like participating in games, not just sitting back in the net being bossy and yelling at everyone." you smirked as your girlfriend dropped the dish she was washing and fixed you with a glare.

within seconds you'd dropped the tea towel, racing off as she charged after you, your laughters filling your space before inevitably she caught you, the keeper taking you down to the floor with a grin.

"i'll show you bossy."

[kika-writes]

Can u do, like, Lando’s diary, maybe?

Warnings: Swearing, Stalker!Lando, pretending to be someone else.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - A few or Lando’s diary entries

A/N2 - I write my dates in the British format or DD/MM/YYYY not MM/DD/YYYY

01/05/2024

Dear Fucking Diary,

I dunno why I decided to write a flipping diary, but I guess I am. Well. Check on my day, I guess? Did shitty media, met some fans. Nothing big. Nothing unusual. Fuck it.

02/05/2024

Dear Fucking Diary,

Sooooooooooooooooooooooo, things have changed up a bit. I was in the garage and I saw this really, really pretty girl angel and oh my god, I swear, love at first sight. Seriously, she’s gorgeous. I can’t get over her. So I asked Oscar and decided to put up with the few minutes of teasing, because man, I couldn’t not know who she was, ya know? Fill in tomorrow

03/05/2023

Dear Fucking Diary,

Her names Y/N. I’m not a stalker, I swear, but I couldn’t, like, not find all her socials and stuff. They’re on private though. Fucks sake. So, I made the very very deep decision to make another instagram account and follow her. Maybe I’d get her interested. So I sent her a DM. Acting as if I had the wrong Y/N. Though god, I wish I knew other people called Y/N. Her name’s gorgeous. Got practise now. Write tomorrow.

04/05/2024

Dear Fucking Diary,

She accepted my follow request. We talked for a bit. She thinks my name’s Oscar. Sorry to actual Oscar. But god, she’s so pretty. We called for a bit, surprised she didn’t recognise my voice. Well, we didn’t work close enough to do so anyways. She worked on Oscar’s side of the garage. She was so clueless, it felt like a game. Not in a good way, how would I ever come clean?

05/05/2023

Dear Fucking Diary,

She’s pretty. She hasn’t blocked me, I’m surprised, but I flicked through her socials. She’s so pretty, oh my god. I told Oscar. He told me to come clean. But how? What if she thought I was a freak or a stalker? I mean, I technically was. But like, what if she exposed me and ruined my whole career? Forget that, what if I lost her? I can’t.

06/05/2024

Dear Fucking Diary,

Hi lando, you left your diary in Oscar’s driver room. Fucking stalker.

13/05/2024

Dear Fucking Diary,

You read what she wrote, I’m fucked. She hasn’t turned up to work for a week. I’m scared. She’s blocked me on everything, I shouldn’t have done what I did. I asked Zak about her, he doesn’t know. I don’t want her to leave, I can’t stand the thought of her with someone else. Fuck this diary. It’s a curse.

[websterss]

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃  

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: Hello!! I simply adore your fics with my whole heart I was wondering if I could request a Lockwood and co fic with Lockwood? Where maybe reader, him, and, Lucy are all at the auction and once they make their escape to the roof reader fights golden blade with her rapier and just before they jump maybe she gets stabbed or something? And lockwoods just freaking tf out? And he’s just pleading for her to stay with him and just angst to fluff if possible? I love your fics and your writings so much! 

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, some fluff, mentions of stab wound

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,746

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! let me know what you guys think!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Anthony had tugged on your and Lucy's hands back the way you came. Peering over the edge of the building had resulted in a dead end leaving you with the option of jumping into the freezing water or facing Golden Blade.

You all stopped dead when he blocked the way with the tip of his blade. Anthony had attempted to shield you behind his frame, but you weren't having any of it tonight. You were exhausted from running all day long, and you really wanted some tea and buiscuts. You were teetering on your last braincell. 

“That was mine!” He growled. The Bone Glass long gone in the hands of DEPRAC by now. Flo and George ensuring of its safety.

“Oh geezus, give up!” Anthony began backing the three you of towards the edge. “Bone glass is with DEPRAC, now it’s over.” 

“You don’t understand the game at all do you?” Golden Blade scoffed. 

It didn’t take long for you to unsheath your rapier, drawing it and directing it towards the man before you. His eyes met yours across the length of your weapon. There was a moment of tension and a flicker of surprise in his eye but he merely smirked.

"Oh my, looks like we have a fighter here. I always like a girl with spirit. Shall we dance? I wouldn't mind taking a spin." He spun his blade around, showing off and taunting you to attack.

“Do not engage, Y/n!” Anthony frowned.

"I do like a good tango!" You ran forward taking the first strike, ignoring Anthony’s pleas to stand down.

He sidestepped and your blade swished past his shoulder, missing him by an inch. His blade slashed up, trying to cut into your cheek but you'd already moved out of the distance of the blow. You took another step and jabbed at his side, only for him to dodge again.

“Y/n come on!” Anthony begged once more.

Lucy turned in time to catch him get up on the ledge, peering down into the water. “No, no, no, no.” She shook her head immediately, not wanting to take his extended hand. “No Lockwood.”

“Lucy he’ll kill us all-Y/N leave him!” He called after you, watching you swing and dart with precision, but it was the precision that made him fear for you to make a mistake and get hurt. 

"I always did prefer a woman with some backbone," Golden Blade grinned, his blade dancing above his head as he parried your next blow which was aimed straight at his face. You were good with the rapier, he'd give you that much. The two of you circled one another for some moments until you attempted to stab his midriff and he responded by launching forward, the tip of his blade piercing skin, your skin. You gasp as your weapon clattered to the ground, the silence growing eery and still as you looked down at where he got you.

“No!” You could hear Lucy and Anthony exclaim. 

You slowly look up at his eyes filled with amusement. He now faced a child simply scared for her life. “But even those with the confidence, are sure to have a weakness. You’re impulsive child.” He pulled the blade out of your abdomen. Your hands trying to clutch at the bleeding wound with shaky hands. You spared him one last glance before you turned and ran. Anthony had reached for your hand mid jump, but he had missed you by an inch. Your gasp filled his ears as you lept off towards the water. You fall into the icy waters of London, the air leaving your lungs as you plunge past the murky surface.

He watched you disappear with a splash. His heart thumping loudly in his ears. He gripped Lucy’s hand and lept off the edge. 

The icy water bit into your skin as you submerged completely. The water's embrace was chilling and bitter and you could feel the wound ache more when you plunged into the water. You kicked your legs and arms using what strength you had left to help you break the surface. You weren’t the strongest swimmer. Anthony knew it too, but you guessed when you feared drowning that your flight or fight response could possibly save you. You gasp as your head comes up, inhaling a chunk of air before you fell back down under the surface. You tried to kick upwards, feeling around in the water for something solid to grab on to but the water pushed against you with relentless force. You were drowning. Your head surface once more before you were met with a solid form. Your arms immediately clinging to it as you coughed up water. It wasn’t until a brush of fingertips pushed back your wet hair, that you realized it wasn’t a something, but a someone. 

"I've got you, I've got you!" Anthony held you close as your head fell forward onto his shoulder. "I've got you love." He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. His eyes closing shut as he fought to keep you both above water.

You clung to him for dear life. You were shaking and trembling with the cold, as well as the terror that you almost died. You were sobbing into his shirt, and even with the pain in your torso, you tried to hug him tightly, so that he wouldn't let go and you would never let go. He was the only lifeline you had right now. “He stabbed me...” Your lips trembled with the admition. 

This had Anthony recoiling back in your arms. His eyes wide with concern and fear. He immediately checked you over. Lucy treading closer to the two of you. "What?" She exclaimed. "Where?" Anthony had lowered his hands down your sides and when his thumb brushed against the top of your jeans lyour whimper was enough to let him know where it was you were injured. 

“Can you float?” His tone soft, but concern ridden. You barely missed the rasp in his throat as he blinked back tears. 

You nodded. Unwrapping your hands from his neck, allowing him to guide you on your back. One hand kept underneath you at all times. His hands had slowly reached forward to lift the hem of your shirt. Lucy's heart froze as she came closer to the two of you, her gaze fixated on the wound as well as you shaking from the cold. You had stopped crying, having focused your energy on maintaining yourself afloat. You kept your eyes closed as you tried to breathe. You’ll stay afloat as long as there’s air in your lungs, Anthony’s voice rang through your head, but no matter how hard you focused, the panic made only made it worse for you. Your eyes fluttered open in a flash, and you reached out for him again. Anthony caught you before you slipped under the surface, bringing you closer once more, letting you wrap your arms around him. 

Anthony couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that crashed up against him. He didn’t want to be crying in front of anyone, but he felt completely overwhelmed, tears filled his eyes as he held you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He had been afraid. Very afraid that he was going to lose you, right out here in the middle of the freezing river in London.

“We’re gonna get you help soon okay. I just need you to hold out for me a little longer. Can you do that for me?” He lifted your chin with his hand gently. You mustered a small nod but he needed more than that from you. “I need to hear you love. Just a little longer.”

“Just a little longer.” You echoed back to him. “I’m not a good swimmer Anthony...”

“And yet you jumped into the river.” His laugh breaks the tension.

“You were gonna do it first-had to beat you to it.” You breathe out a laugh.

“I would not have jumped in.” You both turn to Lucy, watching her tread water shivering. 

“Ready?” He dipped his chin to you both. 

“No.” You shook your head, you could feel the exhaustion getting to you but you knew you couldn’t let sleep win over your body.

“Whatever.” Lucy began swimming forward, the shore was the goal. 

“We can stop if you need to take breaks.”

“No, no stopping, the sooner we get to shore the faster we can take me to the hospital.” You breathed out again. 

“I’ll get you there safe and sound. I refuse to let the river claim you. I promise you.” He leaned forward and kissed your temple. You sighed against his touch. 

“Don’t let me go.” 

“I’d be stupid to.” There it was again, his charming smirk you adored. 

As you lay your head on his shoulder you felt his arms become tighter around you as a shiver ran down your spine. Your body shook uncontrollably against the cold of both the river and the weather. He could feel your teeth chattering and wanted to wrap you in his coat, give it to you, but you'd probably punch in the face if he tried. So he opted to just keep holding you close. His promise to never let you go would remain sound and safe in his heart. He'd swim across the ocean just to ensure your life, even if he was on his last remaining strength, he'd hold out to get you to safety. He was exhausted, knowing that the swim would take twice as long for you both but he'd get you there. He'd make certain of it.

He swam for what felt like hours but you could finally make out the shore. Lucy beat you both there, but she waited for you both to get there. She laid on top of the rocks, catching her breath. However, the look of relief that washed over her face made you want to sob from exhaustion. If not for the sting of your wound and numbness in your body, you would've flung yourself in her arms and just burst out crying right here and now. Yet still, you were so very grateful to see her wait on you. Anthony walked you both over to where she was and flopped the both of you beside her. Your chests rose and fell from the swim and the cold, but you were alive. That’s what mattered the most. You’d be alright.

[aaizawashouta]

Heatin' Up

pairing: frat!kiba x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: kiba and his famous beer pong partner finally do the dirty. (modern!au)

warnings: smut (18+, minors dni) oral f and m receiving, p in v, cream pie.

a/n: it's me, hi. this was long over due. i love them your honor.

→ Wyd later? 

You could feel the disgust on your face. It never ceases to amaze you how much of a fuckboy he could be. No wonder he was in a frat. What did this make you? His booty call? Ugh, you’re the only one who would ever answer him on such short notice. Your nails tapped against your phone as you contemplated your answer.

→ Party @ the house 

→ Got your fav 

What did he think you are? Some schmuck? As if your favorite drink would be enough to pull you from the comfort of your room. But then you hear the giggling. Your roommates are never quiet, and you know their habits. Especially when you hear Shikamaru’s name dropped. Ino’s been trying to get into his pants for weeks. Sighing, you push your blankets off your lap, knowing you're in a losing situation.

The girls barge into your room, animatedly talking over one another. You get the jist, which you already knew. Sakura eyes you suspiciously when you don’t fight them on coming along. Ino’s already tearing into your closet. You pinch the side of your thigh to keep yourself from freaking out.

“We promise,” Ino says as she coats your lashes in mascara. “We won’t leave your side.”

It’s a lie, it always is. They always abandon you at some point. Not that it matters. Because there is one who always sniffs you out. You couldn’t hide from him even if you wanted to.

→ you comin? 

I’ll be there! Find me xoxo ←

It was a new world record. You’d lost sight of your roommates the moment you walked in. Not all that bummed about it, you headed to the kitchen. You had been promised your favorite drink. Gaara and Kankuro are stationed in the kitchen. Their only job is to make sure that the drinks stay clean. A shutter rushes over you as you think about how the house had been your freshman year. A hand rubs at your forearm, the pink and shiny scar a reminder of the hell that broke out that night. Grabbing your drink, Gaara pops the cap off for you, smiling as you take a much needed drink. The latter gives you a wink accompanied by a smirk. You flash them a smile before braving the rest of the party.

You hear him before you see him. Laughter and sharp words greet you when you step out into the backyard. There’s a bonfire, most of your friend group sits around it. Naruto and Kiba are bickering, both hotheaded and passionate about their beliefs. You can’t make out what it is exactly they're arguing about, you just hope it isn’t something stupid. Taking another swig of your drink, eyes cast down to watch your steps, a large hand wraps around your arm. You glance up to see Kiba. His large frame blocking out the light from the fire, but his grin still lights up his face. 

“There she is,”

“I told you I was coming.”

“Thought you got lost when your dumbass friends walked out here without you.”

Well, he’s not wrong is he? He had some faith in you, though, given he didn’t come hunt you down himself. But now that he has you, he isn’t letting you go. Time moves quickly whenever you’re with Kiba. One drink turns into two, and two into three. 

“Hey, the pong table is open!”

You yelp when you're yanked from your seat, tripping over your own feet as you're dragged back into the house. “Game face on, baby. We got a table to dominate.”

It’s never been like this intense before. Sweat drips down your neck. You’ve stripped down every layer while still remaining decent. Not everybody at this party needs to see you in your undies. Goosebumps breakout on your skin when a deep sigh comes from behind you. Nerves? Not a thing. Anxiety never seems to dig its claws in you. The only thing that ever sets you off is the impatient man behind you breathing down your neck.

This is the last shot of the game. The make or break of your winning sweep. You and Kiba always dominate the pong table, but tonight is something special. Or it could be. If only he’d take a step back and let you fucking breathe.

Slowly you turn, head tilting to clash gazes with familiar amusement. His brows shoot up into his headband, actually your headband – it’s your favorite color. He’s shirtless, when the hell did that happen? Probably started stripping down when you did. Jeans hanging low on his hips, the band of his underwear playing with the dark hair of his happy trail. His sneakers are toe to toe with your bare feet. It’s almost like a superstition. Or maybe because playing beer pong in high heels isn’t a smart idea. For you, anyway.

“Are you going to throw?”

“Are you going to let me breathe?”

His grin takes on a wolfish form as he steps into your space. Always by your side, never more than an arms length away. If anyone knows how to push your buttons it’s Kiba. If there’s anyone who isn’t afraid of pushing your buttons, it’s Kiba. You’ve been giving him a lot of slack lately. No pushback for all the bullshit he throws your way. Your lips purse, lifting your foot you step on the toes of his shoes.

“Bro, what the fuck.”

“Back away, Inuzuka. Wouldn’t want to scuff up those kicks.”

Your lips twitch when he huffs out a humorless laugh. As if he’s surprised by your audacity. Kiba takes a step back, his jaw clenching when you refuse to pick up your foot. Yeah, the fucking audacity.

“You’re mean.”

“You’re messing up my game.”

“Are you even playing anymore?”

You look behind you with a sneer on your face. Naruto and Lee stand there – Lee literally vibrating from all the energy drinks he’s had. Naruto rolls his shoulders, pinning you and Kiba with a bored look.

“Why? Want me to kick your ass that bad, huh?”

The group watching laughs, causing you to smile. Naruto gives you the bird before pouting. Another swig of your drink down and your shoulders loosen. Warm hands land on your waist, lips brushing against your ear.

“Nothing but water, baby.”

 “This is the winning shot, what do I get if I make it?”

There isn’t a doubt you’ll make it. You’re gloating now. A wide grin eating up your face as you roll the ball through your fingers.

“When’d you turn into a scammer? That’s easy fucking money. Everyone here knows you’ll make the shot.”

“What are you willing to hand over, Kiba?”

He’s silent, debating. You quirk an eyebrow as you stare up at him over your shoulder, intrigued by the wheels turning in his head. He sighs, fingers digging into your sides. “Throw the damn ball.”

You can’t help but snort. It’s not rocket science, beer pong. It’s technique, all in the wrist. But don’t tell any of the meatheads that. God forbid you figured out how to beat the frat bros at their own game. Which you do every time you play. Taking a deep breath you position yourself, aiming. The hoots and hollers quiet down as you look from the red solo cup to Kiba. He’s beaming; smirk showing off a sharp fang. Slightly threatening, but boyish all the same. It’s a clean shot – you sink it without even looking.

The pride that flares in Kiba’s eyes sends heat through you. There isn’t a moment to think about it before he’s rushing you. In an instant you’re off your feet, a screech leaving you as you hastily wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Hell yeah, that’s my girl.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek to hold back your whimper. This isn’t the first time he’s said something like that. How easily he calls you pet names and claims you as his. He’s known you since you were a gap toothed little kid with knobby knees. The only one mean enough to put Kiba in his place when his mouth got away from him.

“Ki, you’re making me dizzy.”

He grumbles but lets you down. Not bothering to move away his chest brushing against your back with every breath. Not like you mind. You’ve never been one to shy away from Kiba. He invades your space, your mind, your dreams. 

“It’s not fair.” Naruto complains, downing another cup of cheap beer. “I want her as my partner in the next game.”

Kiba’s grip on your waist tightens when he looks over your shoulder towards the blond. “Over my dead fucking body. She’s mine.”

Snickering from beside you catches your attention. Ino and Sakura sit with their drinks trying to hide their smug looks. Oh yeah, you’ll never hear the end of it. They’ve been trying to set you and Kiba up for a while now. You don’t ever encourage their meddling, but you don’t put a stop to it either. Because there is a big part of you that wonders. It’s your little secret if the part that wonders happens late at night with your fingers buried deep between your legs. No one has to know. 

“What the fuck are you snickering for? Not like anyone wants you.”

The drink you’re holding gets slammed down on the table. Kiba pulls you into him as you choke on the liquid. You’re trying to breathe, but your laughter keeps bubbling up, making it hard. Large palms run up and down your spine, a soothing gesture. Finally gulping in some air you flash Kiba an appreciative smile.

He’s got a look in his eye, one you’ve never seen before. Goosebumps erupt across your skin. His gaze takes you in from head to toe; it’s predatory, wild. The hand he used to sooth you is now gripping the back of your neck. Kiba pulls you close, head tilted down, nose brushing against your own. You’ve got to fight to keep your eyes from fluttering closed. Warm breath ghosts over your parted lips, waiting. You nod, barely visible, but Kiba catches it. Warm lips meet yours. Firm against your own, but not demanding. He’s holding back, not wanting to put on a show. You gasp when his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, and then he’s gone. Pulling away, leaving you only a small taste.

Clearing your throat you pick up your discarded items. “I need to pee.”

“Sure, babe. Let’s go.”

A huff leaves your lips as you follow after him. His large frame breaks through the sea of people, keeping you from getting knocked around. It gets a beat quieter when you hit the stairs. Less people, less chatter. Kiba bangs on the bathroom door, giving no time before ripping it open. Covering your mouth so the embarrassed couple doesn’t see you laughing. The poor girl has no time to adjust her skirt before Kiba is manhandling them out of the way. 

“Do your business.”

You wait a beat. “Get out.”

“Babe,”

“Kiba! I’m not peeing with you in here!”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

That makes your temper flare. “Don’t compare me to your one night stands. You’ve only seen me naked in your dreams, but even that is lacking.”

In a blink of an eye he’s got you shoved against the counter. Hand wrapped around your throat, lips brushing over yours as he speaks. “Only because you won’t give it up.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You know me better than anybody. But sometimes, you’re so fucking blind it pisses me off.”

“I swear to god, Kiba, if you think you’re going to fuck me in this bathroom–” Your mouth snaps shut. You don’t even want to entertain that thought. But Kiba is grinning now, big and brilliant. A cat that got the cream. Makes you want to smack him.

“I knew it.” He whispers. “I knew you wanted me. Bet you touch that sweet pussy thinking of me, don’tcha sweetheart?”

No, absolutely not. You aren’t doing this. You manage to shove him away, a glare settling over your pretty features. You slam the bathroom door open ready to leave. You never really had to pee, you just needed a breather. Now here you are; stressed out and getting hornier by the second. But the chance to leave never comes. You never step out of the bathroom. Kiba takes this into his own hands –quite literally– and picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Inuzuka. Put me down!”

“Yeah, baby. That’s the plan.”

You can’t fight him. Can’t ignore the heat that spreads through you. Your thighs would be rubbing together if Kiba didn’t have a mean grip on them. So you hang there, blood rushing to your head as he enters his room. He tosses you on the bed, standing there staring at you with a hungry, desperate gaze while you get your bearings. 

Grabbing your ankle Kiba drags you down the bed, smacking your thigh to get your attention. “Let’s go, baby girl. On your knees.”

“What?”

Kiba raises a brow. “On. Your. Knees.”

“You want me on my knees for you? You first.”

Hands grab at you, hastily undoing your pants before tugging them along with the black thong you wore down your legs. Kiba never takes his eyes off you as he tosses the clothes over his shoulder. His fingers tangle with yours, dragging your hand down your body, drawing your fingers up and down the seam between your legs, a sign you take to spread them. He doesn’t have to give you any more direction. Eagerly you dip a finger in, building up a pace before adding another. Placing one hand on a bare thigh, he holds you open, pushing his shoulders in between to get closer to you. A satisfied groan leaves you when he kisses your thigh. His teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh, a laugh rumbling in his chest when he notices your hand moving faster and faster the closer he gets to your core.

“Kiba,” you’re begging. Needy, and desperate. 

His hand moves, expert fingers toying with your pert nipples. Back arching with each tug and twist. You’re mumbling–bite, bite, bite. With your own hand busy between your legs, Kiba pushes up on his elbows, licking a trail between the valley of your breasts before sucking one in his mouth. You whimper, hand now tangled in his hair, holding him tight as you push your tit into his mouth. He rolls it in his mouth, tongue flicking at it before sucking. Eyes wide, pupils blown out as he watches you teeter closer to the edge.

His hand trails down your stomach, fingers tracing over yours. A grunt escapes him when he realizes you’ve stopped moving it. He tsks at you, pulling himself away from your chest. “Don’t stop,” he commands, his hand gripping your now stilled hand and forcing your fingers back inside. No longer two deep, but three. He wants you stretched out and ready for him. He keeps his hand over yours, controlling the pace. ‘Come on sweetheart – fuck, like that.”

He watches you for a moment, before lowering himself back down. You jolt at the flat of his tongue running over your nipple. A low groan parting your lips when his teeth finally latch on to it. You’ve always been a sucker for pain. Especially with your nipples being as sensitive as they are. He could make you come just by playing with them alone. Dragging his teeth over the tender flesh, he flicks his tongue over it. How fast can he make you come like this? Applying more pressure to the hand between your legs, it's a race between your fingers and his tongue. 

“Kiba, fuck.” 

Your legs are trembling around him, your weight shifting back onto your toes. Chasing, chasing… Kiba bites down on your nipple, hard. You scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You look so fucking pretty when your like this, basking in your orgasm glow.

Knowing that your legs are anything but steady, you roll off the bed, landing on all fours before crawling over to sit on your haunches before him. You look up at him expectantly, waiting for your next order. He smiles down at you. Hand cupping your cheek, thumb caressing your cheekbone, finding its way down to your bottom lip. He pulls on the tender flesh, watching as your lips part and your tongue automatically comes out. Waiting, hungry.

“Are you going to be nice?” You whine, scooting forward, wanting nothing more than the feel of his heavy cock on your tongue. “Good girl, baby. Take the whole thing.”

Both hands tangle in your hair. He doesn’t move an inch, letting you come to him. Your eyes prick with tears as he makes his way in. You love the stretch, no matter where it is. Slowly, slowly, you make until you're suffocating with his cock down your throat and your nose in his dark hair. 

“That’s it — fuck, stay right there.”

His thighs twitch when you hum around him. Your mouth is so soft and warm, he could come right now if he really wanted to. But that’s not what he wants, not what you want. All of this is just foreplay. Because nothing will compare to when he’s got his cock in you and you’re begging him to fill you up, to use you. He’s been dreaming of that for years. His eyes roam all over you as he steadies his breathing, taking in the lewd scene that’s all you. 

“You’re a goddamn daydream. You know that?”

Hand pushing on your head, you gag around him before quickly being pulled away. You brace yourself, letting him use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks, making your eyes sparkle. Cheeks hallowed, lips suctioning around him until he can’t take it anymore. Pulling himself out of your mouth, Kiba reaches down and wraps you up in arms only to turn and toss you on the bed. You’re pussy clenches around nothing when you see the feral look in his eyes. He’s grinning down at you, but it isn’t nice. He’s going to devour you whole. Crack open your ribs and feast on everything that you are, everything you have to offer. When he’s had his fill and he’s done, you’ll do nothing but say thank you. 

“Spread those legs. I want that cunt.”

It’s your favorite part, when he first enters you. That first stretch, the feel of his cock making its way into you. He doesn’t know it yet, but you need to feel how much it hurts. Maybe your as fucking feral as he is. 

He swiftly moves to his knees, a hand slides across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. It’s a silent scream, no sound leaving you. He’s big, so big, and he’s filling you up to the brim. It hurts, and you’re loving every inch that stretches you out. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, hard thrust. He slides a hand up your stomach, between your breasts so his hand can wrap it around your throat. He loves watching you come undone around him, and he’ll never forget it either. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers. 

“Babe,” he grits, hand tightening, cutting off a little more air, “you feel so fucking good.”

You stare back at him, feel as he moves to kneel on one knee, the angle shifting somewhere deeper inside of you. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is shooting out above your head, keeping you from hitting the headboard. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Your head is empty, high in euphoria only Kiba can provide you. Words are pouring out of you, but you couldn’t understand what you were trying to say even if you wanted to. Whatever it is he wants to hear. Whatever keeps him close, keeps him inside of you. You never thought you’d get to be like this. 

“Kiba, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that hard to reach spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it coming, your orgasm is going to come crashing down. You’re going to drown in it, and you don’t know if you’ll make it out unscathed.

“You going to come on my cock, baby?”

“Yes!  Please, please, Kiba. Don’t stop. More, more, holy fuck,”

You come on his cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the bed, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Kiba groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you. 

“Good girl,” he praises, letting go of your throat. “Such a good girl for me.”

It’s quiet, apart from your labored breathing. Kiba’s thumb runs along your stomach where his hand rests. He’s laying halfway on you, head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. It’s a soft moment, one you don’t wish to break. But this time, you really do need to pee.

“Kiba,” he grumbles, digging deeper into the comfort you provide. “Ki, get up. I have to pee.”

He glances up at you, clearly fighting off a grin. “You gonna kick me out this time?”

“Kiba,” you warn.

“What? Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“Fucking, hell, Inuzuka.”

He chuckles, lifting his weight off you. He smiles at your glare. Quietly you get dressed. Your hair stacked up on your head in a messy bun. There’s no saving your makeup. You wince at your reflection, seeing your lipstick smeared all over your mouth. Calloused fingers grip your chin, lifting your face so he can mesh his lips with yours.

“You’re a vision, sweetheart.” he murmurs against your lips. “Don’t think this was a one time thing.”

Your head tilts. “Oh yeah? You addicted now?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’ve been addicted to you my whole fucking life.”

“Are you going soft on me?” 

He grins down at you. “Oh, baby. We’re just heatin’ up.”

[silentcrowsilentravens]

I haven't posted in ages, man :') Mandy definitely isn't a character that calls for a particularly fluffy fluff alphabet... But I want to try and get a feel for writing her, and this felt like a good way.

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, and past trauma.

A = affection (how affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

While perhaps not the most verbally affectionate, Amanda is rather physically affectionate.

She's a tactile person, and she fuckin' loves touching you. All over. All the time.

Amanda's affection is a little... aggressive at first, but after time, you'll see softer stuff mixed in there, too...

...The A segment gets expanded on throughout this, so I won't ramble too long right here.

B = body (what is their favorite part of their partner's body?)

Eyes. I'm not sure why I feel so strongly about that. I just do.

She'll sometimes stare into your eyes for so long that it verges on uncomfortable. Or perhaps unsettling.

Your neck is a close second, though. She loves marking it <3

C = cuddling (do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yeah. She does.

A lot actually.

She will hold you tight. Full-on gorilla grip, fingers tightly clenching the fabric of your clothes or kinda digging into your skin.

Her preferred position is pressed against your front, her head tucked under your chin.

However, she also enjoys pressing against your side with her legs and arms fully wrapped around you.

D = dates (what do they like to do when they go on dates with you?)

Typically, Mandy doesn't like to go out for dates. And if she does, she prefers to go to places that don't have a lot of people.

Little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, fast food joints sometime after midnight, sitting on the bumper blocks in parking lots after stopping at food trucks.

Hanging out on the couch, watching a movie, or playing video games.

E = emotions (how do they express emotion around their partner?)

Very blatantly. And intensely. Amanda isn't somebody who reacts to things passively. When she feels something, she feels it with every fiber of her being.

Joy is typically the only thing that tends to come across as subdued from her.

But everything else? Rarely. You probably won't have much trouble telling what she's feeling.

F = family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Growing up, Mandy didn't have one. She lived with her dad, but he was never family or anything close to it. And now, she almost feels like she isn't deserving of one. She is, though. Of course she is.

Having John as a father figure, and you there as a loving partner?

That's more than Amanda could've ever anticipated or asked for, in her eyes.

G = gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Although not a huge fan of receiving gifts herself, Amanda does enjoy giving you gifts every now and again.

She prefers to leave them out for you to find rather than giving them to you directly. Often, the item will be accompanied by a simple note on a torn scrap of paper that says "for you" or something similar.

It's also one of her preferred methods of apology following minor screw-ups.

H = hugs (do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

About as much as cuddling.

And similar to when she cuddles you, she will squeeze the life out of you. There's no escape. Occasionally, it even gets a bit hard to breathe.

Like, listen here. Amanda prefers you in her arms over anywhere else.

Her face will be buried in the crook of your neck... Or your chest, depending on how tall you are.

I = injury (how would they act if their partner got hurt?)

She freezes up when she first sees you hurt.

Following that, there is immediate panic and freak-out.

"What the hell happened?!"

There's a decent amount of cursing as she patches you up.

And after, if she finds out that you got hurt because of someone else, you best believe that Amanda is gonna be asking you tons of questions about them. She needs to know all the info you have so that she can track them down, abduct them, and rig up a special (impossible to win) trap just for them.

J = jealously (how jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Mandy does not like to share you haha. At all.

She will, but she won't be pleased about it.

She's not very good at hiding when she's jealous, either.

Amanda will say "I'm not jealous", but it will be obvious from her facial expression, the way she's standing, and her tone of voice that she is. Very, very obvious.

K = kisses (how do they like to kiss their partner?)

The majority of the time? Roughly.

Mandy is somebody who will be pinning you against the wall or nearby furniture.

She'll be biting your lip and sticking her tongue in your mouth before long.

Her hands will likely have a firm grip on your wrists, biceps, the sides of your face, or hair.

She doesn't typically make her kisses brief, either.

L = love (how do they show their partners they love them?)

If Amanda isn't being all touchy-feely, then she's showing her love for you through acts of service.

You say the word?

...Not necessary. She's actively in the process of doing something for you.

She'd give you her last cigarette.

Or kill a guy for you. Maybe more.

M = mornings (how are mornings spent with them?)

Chances are, you probably don't wake up before Amanda. She likes to sleep in until noon.

You wake up to her snoring quietly and holding onto you, unwilling to get up.

So... mornings are simply spent there. In bed.

If you want to get up before noon, you'll need to either pry yourself out of her grasp or wake her up and convince her to release you.

N = nights (how are nights spent with them?)

Nights are when Amanda is most busy with her apprentice work for Jigsaw. Planning, building, abducting, etc. You often don't get to spend long with her because of that.

She'll typically spend the time right before she needs to work hanging around you, though.

And if she's putting traps together, there's a good chance she'll let you hang around. As long as you don't touch anything without asking.

Oh, and hey, pass her that drill.

O = openness (when would they start revealing things about themselves?)

Not for a while.

And telling you stuff from her past? That'll take even longer. Amanda will tell you only once she's ready, and it'll be painful for her. Like pulling teeth.

She might not be hard to read in terms of body language, but she isn't an open book when it comes to verbally sharing things. She's a closed book. That only select people are allowed to look into.

P = pet names (do they use pet names? If so, what do they use?)

She does, but just occasionally.

I can only picture her using "babe".

Half the time, it comes out after she's already said your name. Like "[Insert name here], babe, check this out."

Q = quizzes (how much would they remember about their partner?)

Quite a lot. Mandy remembers the things you do and say pretty well.

Specifically when they relate to the things you do or don't like, though.

She knows the smaller stuff. Your favorite thing to order from the restaurants you go to together, your favorite movies, games, brands of drinks/food, and other stuff like that.

R = remember (what is their favorite moment in their time of knowing you?)

Regardless of wherever it was and whatever happened, her favorite memory is definitely the moment she first met you.

After all, if not for that happening, Amanda wouldn't know you at all. And that's not something she likes to think about.

She isn't even sure what she would be doing with herself if she didn't know you.

S = security (how protective are they? Would they like to be protected?)

As previously mentioned, Amanda will kill for you with little hesitation.

If you're important to her, then nobody gets to hurt you. If somebody does, her rage will be immediate.

She'll make sure that they'll hurt. And quite a lot.

T = time (how long would it take for them to get together with their partner?)

A while.

Regardless of whether you both have a level of chemistry early on, it'll be a while before there'll be a clear definition to your relationship with her.

With previous partners, that wasn't the case. But Amanda has been through a lot.

There will likely be a period where you're already acting like a straight-up couple, but she still only calls you a friend.

U = upset (how do they act when their partner is upset?)

If it's an outside cause? She might try to comfort you.

However, if you're looking for verbal comfort rather than physical, it's pretty 50/50 whether it'll be effective or it'll simply make it worse.

Mandy herself is the cause? Then she'll need a minute before she even acknowledges it. Perhaps a few extra to cool off depending on what happened.

V = Valentine's Day (do they celebrate it with you? How?)

She doesn't care about Valentine's Day. Or most holidays, for that matter. Throughout most of her life, she's never had people to celebrate anything with and make memorable experiences. So when those days come around, it's typically just another day for her.

Valentine's Day in particular is just a load of commercialized bullshit, in her opinion.

Like, whatever. Amanda doesn't need some holiday to do special shit with you. If you want flowers or candy, she could get those for you any time.

She can drop by a gas station right now and grab a few candy bars for you.

She can go outside and find flowers. She'll rip them right out of the ground for you. They'll probably be messed up when you receive them, though. Some of them might also be weeds... And she's just gone and tracked a lot of dirt inside.

W = warrior (how do they feel about their partner fighting? Would they fight beside them, etc.?)

While certainly not something Amanda's opposed to, this also isn't expected from you whatsoever.

So, if you jump in to help her if she gets in a fight or step in front of her protectively, she'll be utterly shocked.

For a solid couple of seconds, she can only stand there with a blank look on her face.

The people she's met willing to do that for her are few and far between. It really starts to set in how much she means to you.

It's also incredibly hot of you.

X = x-ray (how well are they able to read their partner?)

Mandy's halfway decent at reading you.

Like, I wouldn't say she can always pick up on the subtle stuff, but she will most of the time. You won't need to spell a whole lot out for her.

Y = yes (would they propose to their partner? How?)

Marriage is something Amanda is utterly, completely indifferent about.

Like, she could not give less of a shit if she never got married. It's whatever. However, if you really want to get married, then yeah, sure, she's down. Anything for you.

If she's the one to propose, she will pop the question in the most casual way imaginable.

You guys would probably be watching a movie or something, and she would turn to you and go, "Hey, wanna get married?" like she's asking you if you want her to grab anything from the kitchen for you.

She goes out and acquires the rings after that.

By that, I mean she goes out and steals them. Maybe off the cold, rigid fingers of a couple of victims from her unbeatable traps.

Z = zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Simply having you around to talk to her is often a big help to Amanda.

Alongside a bit of space until she indicates otherwise.

Keeping your hands empty and where she can see them, too.

[tinfairies]

The Fairy Garden

My Ko-Fi

Commission Directory

My Art Tag: tin art

My ask box and DMs are always open for people to come chat or be horny little freaks!

Requests Closed

Don't like it? Block me!

Don't be a cunt.

Dark content including rape, self harm, suicide, murder, domestic violence, drug and alcohol abuse, necrophilia, cannibalism, incest and bodily fluids will be present here.

My only major boundary is scat. It just doesn't interest me.

Bestiality and pedophilia are entirely off the table. Yuck.

I do not consent to my writing or art being translated and/or posted to any other website or being fed to AI.

I go by Tin or Lu, I'm 23 years old.

Filthy American 🦅*eagle noises*

I am bi, enby and more fem presenting. I use any pronouns but use she/her by default since it's just easiest. (what I'm used to)

I represent myself with bears, tigers and orange cats.

About Lu

Lu's tumblr

Lu is similar to an alter ego or imaginary friend if you will. I blame shit on him and project my problems onto him. I use him so I don't have to feel negative emotions. He is my punching bag.

Lu is me and I am Lu and I am in full control of my actions and words.

Lu is represented by black dogs/wolves

I "talk" to him and he "talks" to me

Fun Facts

I have 2 kitties named Mercury and Jasmine and 2 leopard geckos named Mister Man and Dracarys

I do lots of art, I used to write a lot but I haven't had the muse for it lately

Mentally ill but who isn't these days (we live in a society fr)

Kink Stuff

Bisexual, switch. Lots of nasty, icky kinks.

BDSM, pet play, age play, knife play, cnc, dumbification, and piss are some of my top kinks.

A mommy dom, or a ma'am but I like being called daddy and sir too. I love puppy and kitty subs and littles.

I am a kitty sub and a little sometimes.

I like being a brat.

I can be a mean dom or soft dom depending on what my sub wants

Fandom List

(this list updates frequently and you're always welcome to pop into my ask box or DMs to talk about these fandoms!)

Anime/Cartoons: Hunter x Hunter, Death Note, Fruits Basket, One Piece, Black Butler, Hazbin Hotel, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Ouran High School Host Club, Princess Jellyfish, Bungo Stray Dogs

TV Shows: Supernatural, The Boys, Gen V, Alice in Borderland, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, Criminal Minds, Percy Jackson, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Movies: Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Hunger Games, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, MCU, DCU, X-Men, Slasher/Horror Fandom, Star Wars, The Last Unicorn, Repo! The Genetic Opera, Twilight Saga, Phantom of the Opera

Video Games: Left 4 Dead, Fallout, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Borderlands, Resident Evil, Dead By Daylight, The Sims, Stardew Valley, Red Dead Redemption, Animal Crossing, Boyfriend to Death, The Price of Flesh, Sally Face, Fran Bow, Night in the Woods, Fear and Hunger

Misc: Creepypasta, Marble Hornets, Homestuck, The Vampire Chronicles, Lychee Light Club

Other Interests

Art, writing, history, archeology, anthropology, architecture, vintage era, edwardian era, medieval era, dinosaurs, cryptozoology, speculative evolution, science, mass tragedies, chernobyl meltdown, cults, fashion, historical fashion, horror, true crime, music, musicals

My Hunger Games/TBOSAS Masterlist

My One Piece Masterlist

My Hunter x Hunter Masterlist

My Old Masterlist

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being EJP Raijin’s Manager

Suna’s Crush

Rintaro Suna (featuring EJP) x GN! manager

Warnings: fluff!

AN: this is a request from @kitakashi! Also let’s talk about how freaking 😮‍💨🥵 timeskip Suna is ok 🤚🏻

Ok you are definitely one of the lucky ones YN

I mean, EJP Raijin?!?

Have you SEEN their lineup…

Washio from Fukurodani, Komori from Itachiyama and Suna from Inarizaki???

Like are we being fr right now because 😮‍💨

Anyways, you someone how managed to score this literal dream job

And boy are we all jealous!

I want to say EJP is probably a lot calmer than MSBY and even the Adlers

They give stoic yet sensible vibes

And please, they are absolutely a stellar team!

Middle blocking is dominated by Washio and Suna and Komori handles receives

Defense specialists 👏🏻

Nekoma who? We don’t know them 💅

Anyways your job as manager is exciting and fun

The guys all respect you, helping you out as much as they can

Please Komori and Washio drink respect juice every morning

Washio helps you set up the net while Komori helps you collect volleyballs at the end of practice

But there’s one player in particular who is really attached to you 👀

Yep that’s right! Our precious love Suna Rin

Now Suna doesn’t attach himself to just anyone, oh no

He remains mostly aloof, unbothered by most people and things

But there’s just something about their dear manager that draws him in

Maybe it’s the fact that you let him nap on you 🧐

Or maybe it’s because you make the best bento boxes?

Nah it’s definitely because you add the perfect ratio of protein powder to the teams shakes

Or maybe 👀 just maybe it’s because the man is utterly infatuated with you

Oh that’s definitely it 😏

Suna always volunteers to walk you to the train station and even meets you every morning for coffee

This is strange to the team because before you started, Suna was always the last one to arrive for practice

Heck Komori often had the job of getting Suna TO practice

But not anymore, oh no our precious YN has obliterated any need for that 💅

I bet your thinking “there’s no way EJP hasn’t noticed this change” and you would be correct

Because they most definitely did

But unlike our other feral div. 1 teams, EJP isn’t as dramatic

Or at least, that’s what they’d like you to think 👀

They simply by their time, waiting for the right moment to pounce

Now that doesn’t mean they don’t bait Suna

For instance, you often come up in locker room discussion

“You know, YN is really the best manager. They just do such a great job at everything,” Washio gushes

Suna 👉🏻😐

“And they are super hot! Like wow level hot! Like ‘dang this person actually exists outside of a book’ hot!” Komori says

Suna 👉🏻😐😑

“Honestly I’m surprised Yn is single, it’s not like they don’t get fair share of looks. Sometimes I think they get more attention than we do after the game!” Washio adds

Suna 👉🏻😑😠

“For real! Plus have you seen the number of times they’ve gotten asked out? YN showed me their dms and like it’s insane!” Komori says

Suddenly, a locker slams shut as Suna stomps out from the locker room

Komori and Washio 👉🏻😐😏 got ‘em

Suna knows your popular and it drives him insane!

He’s been wanting to ask you out for a while but he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship or professional relationship

Because you see, Suna actually thinks about things outside of his own feelings

Unlike SOME people

*cough* ATSUMUBOKUTOHINATA *cough*

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get jealous

It honestly annoys Komori and Washio that he hasn’t asked you out

Because you see, it’s also obvious to them that YOU like Suna as well

They see how you stare at him and how you smile when he’s around

How you desire to be close to him 🥰

Everyday that passes, they get more and more annoyed that neither of you will make a move

But you see, that’s all about to change

And not because Komori or Washio snaps

Oh no, because the universe has their backs and is sick of this mutual pinning

🙌🏻 picture this 🙌🏻

It’s finally game day and EJP is facing our favs MSBY

😏 you know where I’m going…

And because MSBY isn’t allowed to have a manager yet because they are too feral and might bite, they must simply be satisfied with looking at You

But oh no, that’s not good enough for them

Because our little jackals get so jealous of pretty managers

Especially ones as pretty as you 🥺

So when Atsumu is staring at you a little longer than he should and Suna notices, glaring at his former teammate

Komori and Washio also notice 👀

And ever the opportunist they pounce!

“Hey Yn why don’t you see if the Jackals need help? I mean we’ve got it over here,” Komori suggests

“That’s a great idea Motoya!” You : D

Suna 👉🏻 yeah great idea MOTOYA 😡

You skip over to MSBY as Atsumu continues to stare at you

You smile and laugh with the team as Suna stands there, hands clenched and fuming

“Suna you good man? You look tense?” Washio questions 😏

“I’m fine!” Suna growls out as he turns and stomps away

When the game starts, Suna is on FIRE 🔥

Literally, the wall of Suna

MSBY is struggling hard to score today because Suna is just that on point

When Atsumu attempts a setter dump, Suna shovels it right back in his face scoring a point for EJP

Komori and Washio are standing there like 😌😌

Please they are so satisfied right now

After the game which was dominated by EJP, Atsumu decides he’s going to make the most of this opportunity and ask you out

“Hey YN, I was wondering if you’d like to go out tonight. I could use some consoling,” he says, a sad look on his face

Suddenly a looming presence enters engulfs you

You stiffen, feeling someone behind you as you turn to see Suna literally FUMING 😡

Quick Yn deal with this!

Komori and Washio 👉🏻👀🍿

MSBY 👉🏻 🧍‍♂️👁️👄👁️

“Umm I’m sorry Atsumu but I actually like someone already,” you say as Suna continues to loom

“Oh, yeah no problem-” Atsumu responds, slowly backing away

He has some self-preservation skills ok

You turn to Suna as he continues to glare at Atsumu

Suddenly, he feels lips press to his cheek as he immediately melts

Suna 👉🏻😡😐😳☺️

“YN I like you alot! Would you please go out with me?” He asks as you nodd

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask! Of course I will!” You gush as you hug him, sweat and all

Don’t worry Yn, Komori is totally filming this for you and Suna to watch later 🥰

[animentality]

It's tough because I hate the Astarion haters on Reddit, who are just misogynistic and homophobic and dismissive of the character because they hate how gay he acts and also how many women love him.

but I also hate BookTok Astarion fangirls who feel the need to assert how superior Astarion is on every fucking Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Shadowheart, Minthara, Lae'zel, Karlach or pretty much any BG3 video at all. Like we get it. He's white.

And then I'm ambivalent on the Tumblr Astarion fans because there are the people who simply like him and make fun art and fun meta analysis about him, and then there are the people in my inbox currently telling me that Astarion's Ascended ending is morally correct and it's not a bad ending for the character, and if I disagree, then I hate women.

You're correct that I hate women, but it has nothing to do with Astarion.

Also, I once again point out, that your own husbando literally tells you outright in both endings that being Ascended ruins/ruined who he used to be and also your love for one another.

Your man literally says that your love would have been corrupted by becoming his spawn, and you still cling to the idea that your character is living happily ever after.

He's not making you a vampire queen, he's making you a vampire pet. And it's fine to like that ending. I don't care if you LIKE bad, unhappy endings. That is your prerogative. But you are simply incorrect if you say that it's the "happy" ending for the character, when it clearly is not.

No one ever said you had to use your skull for anything other than cold cut storage, I just don't see why it's even necessary to argue your point to me.

Stay in your Astarion echo chamber, and block me. I don't have time or energy to block all of you.

Anyway.

It sucks because I really like Astarion, he's my favorite love interest.

I really enjoy his storyline and his growth as a person and how sweet he is. He's also very funny. All the companions have great voice acting behind them, but Neil really knocked it out of the park, and I honestly think the character would be far less popular if they'd picked any other actor.

But the fandom around him is just...awful.

It's a mixed bag of normal, unnormal in a fun way, and unnormal in a "you need to fucking step off in this Walmart bitch" way.

It's why I'd rather interact with Dark Urge and Gortash fans.

Much smaller subset of the fandom, so I don't have to deal with the generic crazies, and we're all such freaks that we don't feel the need to go around acting like Gortash is a good person.

I also only ever see people saying these two are fucking disgusting and horrible and I'd murder them in real life and honestly, true and based.

No happy endings for those two, and that's fine for me. In fact, it's great.

See, Astarion girlies, this is called...knowing your ship doesn't deserve a happy ending after all they have done, and knowing it wouldn't be a happy ending if they got together, but being able to acknowledge that and not get bent out of shape trying to justify it.

Stop tying your irl morality to your tastes in fiction.

I never said that liking the ascended ending made you a bad person in real life.

I just said that pretending it's good and happy and great and not continuing the cycle of abuse, is factually incorrect.

And it is.

Every single bad ending for all the love interests is literally continuing the cycle of abuse. Why would Astarion's be any different?

But maybe I'm being bold in assuming you even know the other love interests exist or have stories. Maybe you don't even know the general story of baldur's gate 3, because it is, as you say, the vampire dating sim, and it's definitely not about anything other than banging the sexy vampire.

Media literacy weeps.

Anyway.

Not ruining my enjoyment of the game.

Just my general tolerance for the fandom that is not Durge and Gortash obsessed.

[wheels-of-despair]

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) Masterlist

Welcome to my Eddieverse, which I'm affectionately referring to as Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me. These are snippets of a playful, prank-filled relationship that begins in 1984, starring Eddie Munson and a female reader I call Evil Woman.

These stories were originally designed to be standalones that could be read in any order, but as this world grows, a little organization might help. The original list below, with descriptions, is the order in which they were posted. There's also a list in chronological order. You can still pick and choose and read in any order you want. Both lists will be updated as I post new stuff.

If you are a blank or ageless blog who interacts with a fic that contains as Do Not Interact (DNI) warning, you will be blocked.

🧡 - Regularly scheduled light-hearted fun. 🖤 - Shit just got real. 💛 - IDK man, this one just kind of wrote itself. 💖 - Wait, there's romance now?

Wrapping Paper 🎅🧡 Eddie thinks he's here to hang out while you wrap presents, but you have something else in mind.

Fucking Fireworks 🎇🖤 Eddie doesn't like fireworks anymore. (New Year's Eve angst, AU where the events of S4 weren't prevented by the fic below)

The Fastest Fix-It (Or: How a Jealous Girlfriend Shut That Shit Down and Saved Eddie Before the Bell Rang) 🧡 In which a jealous girlfriend completely de-rails season 4, but Eddie's fine, so it's all good. (Fix-It, via the path of least resistance)

Draw Me Like One of Your Dwarf Girls, Eddie 🧡 Inspired by Titanic, Eddie decides to work on his drawing skills, and accidentally awakens a monster.

Eddie Munson and the Worst Valentine's Day Ever 💝🖤 An 8-year-old Eddie Munson has an experience that changes his feelings on Valentine's Day forever. (will make you cry)

Eddie Munson and the Best Anti-Valentine's Day Ever 💝🧡 In a sequel to the story above, Eddie discovers that Valentine's Day isn't so bad when you have someone to hate it with. (2.8k of me trying to make amends for what I did to him in the prequel)

Involuntary Secretary and the Dream Escape 💛 People won't leave you the hell alone, so Eddie comes to the rescue like the hero he is.

Classy Girl and the Scruffy Boy 🧡 Eddie's girl invites him over for a romantic dinner and a movie. It's... not exactly what he expected.

Wake-Up Call 🧡 Eddie doesn't want to get up. Sucks to be him.

The Case of the Missing Eddie 🖤🧡 Eddie disappears, and you freak the hell out.

Pinch Proof 🍀🧡 Eddie forgot to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, but you have an easy solution.

The Nerd King Cops a Feel 🧡 Eddie learns something about bras: He hates them.

Revenge of the Freaks 🧡 The Hellfire Club does April Fool's Day a little differently than you might expect.

It's the Easter Dragon, Eddie Munson 🐣🧡 Just a big scary metalhead doing cute Easter-y things with Evil Woman and her family for the first time, nothing to see here.

Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me 🧡 The story of how Evil Woman got her name.

The Ups and Downs of Dating a Trash Panda 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman's first date doesn't go exactly as planned… but everything works out in the end. Obviously.

It's Okay If You Are 🧡 Evil Woman and Eddie have a talk about The Dreaded V-Word.

Smoke Break 💖 Hellfire is holed up in your basement on prom night, but you can't sleep. Might as well drag Eddie outside for a smoke break.

I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You 🖤🧡 Some dickhead stuck a wad of gum in Eddie's hair, and you get the honor of removing it.

The Fuck Did You Just Say to Me? 💛💖 Eddie tests the degradation waters. Evil Woman boils him in it.

Who's Your Fucking Daddy? 💛💖 Eddie tries out the "daddy" thing. EW has an unexpected reaction.

You're the Fucking Worst 💛💖 Eddie tries talking dirty. Evil Woman is not a fan.

The First and Last Breakup of Eddie Munson and Evil Woman 🖤 Once upon a time, two stupid teenagers fell in love. And then they broke up for a stupid reason and spent a whole week doing stupid things because they're stupid teenagers. (angst with a happy ending)

Werewolf Children 🧡 The first time Eddie spent the night with Evil Woman, it was kind of an accident…

Sweet New Tatty 🧡 Eddie has a new tattoo, and it's driving Evil Woman crazy.

A Very Important Date 🎂🧡 Evil Woman doesn't want to make a big deal out of her birthday. However, she's dating Eddie Munson, sooo…

Clown Around and Find Out 🤡💛 Eddie decides to play a prank on Evil Woman, and quickly finds out just how dangerous that is.

The Little Air Conditioner That Could 🔥🧡 Eddie's girl is having a love affair with his air conditioner.

Secret Weapons 🧡 Eddie's mad at Evil Woman (over something dumb, don't worry, doesn't matter), but she knows how to win him back.

This Is Better 🧡 Eddie's lady love is down with The Curse, but his cuddly nature and massive paws come to the rescue.

Fangs for the Mammaries 🧡💖 Eddie wants to try a sexy new toy into the bedroom. Evil Woman wants a divorce. (unhinged Halloween-adjacent fluff)

Don't Move 💖 Eddie looks really good waiting for your snacks to come out of the microwave. So good that you'd rather eat him instead.

Eddie Munson Is My Babydaddy 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman are responsible for a Flour Sack Baby for a week. Shenanigans ensue.

Flying Monkeys Couldn't Drag Me Away 🍂🧡 Evil Woman invites Eddie over for a fun fall night of makin' treats and watchin' a movie with the family.

What If Real Life Is the Nightmare? 🖤 Evil Woman has a dream about finding Eddie's broken body in a dark and awful place full of slimy monsters and red lightning… but it's just a dream, right? RIGHT? (dark but has a happy ending, I promise)

Bonus Blurb: What If Real Life Is Good? 🧡 Evil Woman comes home after What If Real Life Is the Nightmare and has A Heartfelt Moment with Baby Bro. (brotherly fluff, not much Eddie)

The Last First Day 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman have a dramatic reunion on his last first day at Hawkins High. Class of '86, baby!

The First Lazy Thanksgiving 🧡🦃 Eddie comes to stay with Evil Woman during Thanksgiving Break '85 for a lazy and turkey-filled few days… but do holiday plans ever actually turn out the way they're supposed to?

I Hate Mondays 🧡 Like his beloved Garfield, Eddie hates Mondays. Evil Woman decides to give him a reason to look forward to them.

The Family Holiday 🖤🎅 It's December of 1985, and Evil Woman is ready to spend her first real Christmas with Eddie… why is he being weird about it?

I Promise 🧡🎅 Eddie gives Evil Woman something special during a quiet moment together on Christmas Morning '85.

A Slightly Late Munson Christmas 🧡🎅 Eddie spent Christmas '85 with Evil Woman, but it's time to go home and celebrate with Wayne… what if he brings her along?

The First Countdown 🧡🎇 Eddie and Evil Woman go to Reefer Rick's on New Year's Eve to say goodbye to 1985… and hello to a new favorite tradition.

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent 🧡 In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later.

The Devil's Trip 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman embark on an epic spring break road trip… in which everything goes wrong.

Evil Woman's Tit-Warming Service 🧡 Eddie's cold, and there's only one acceptable solution to this very perky problem.

The Freak and His Evil Woman Do Valentine's Day 🧡💘 Last year's anti-Valentine's Day date was a success… but what if Eddie and Evil Woman tried normal romantic stuff in 1986?

Three Days 🖤🧡 Three days after Eddie and Evil Woman met for the very first time… there was a jock encounter they'll never forget.

Have You Ever Choked a Chicken? 🧡 Evil Woman decides to pop in and surprise Eddie with some morning cuddles… but, uh, he's a little busy.

A Situation 🧡🍍 There's only one thing in the world that could make Eddie turn Evil Woman Action down… and it's down there.

Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands 🧡 Eddie's on the phone talking to a nerd, and not in bed pleasuring his beloved like he should be. Evil Woman finds a way to make him focus on the important things.

Boys Are Idiots 🖤 Evil Woman gets partnered up with Steve Harrington for a science project. Which means she has to TALK to him? And be NEAR him? Eddie Munson is NOT a fan.

The Breakfast Club 🧡 It's 1985, and it seems like the entirety of Hawkins High is obsessed with The Breakfast Club. Evil Woman drags Eddie to the theater to see what all the fuss is about.

Evil Woman Sees (Big) Red 🖤👊 Remember in I Touched Banana Bubblicious For You, when Evil Woman had to get gum out of Eddie's hair? Again? Well… what if she found the person responsible?

The Long Con 🧡 Evil Woman brings Eddie a thoughtful gift… but there are some springs attached.

Can't Take You Anywhere 🧡 Eddie is super bored in the BMV and Evil Woman needs to find something for him to do, stat!

Heaven and Hell (Or: Eddie and Evil Woman Do… Prom?!) 🧡 Eddie and Evil Woman are checks notes going to prom? Like normies?!

The Letter 🖤🧡 Evil Woman gets a letter in the mail and says it's not a big deal… but to Eddie Munson, it's a very big deal.

Go Get 'Em, Tiger 🧡 Evil Woman sees Eddie in his gym shorts. 😏

Munson v. O'Donnell 🖤🧡 It's 1986, and Eddie Munson's long and storied high school career has come down to O'Donnell's final… and EW believing in him.

Want to read the Eddie x Evil Woman stories in chronological order instead? Click here!

Blurbs Based on Emojis 🔪 - Worst Baby-Sitter in the World 🥺 - Ugh, Fine! 🧝‍♀️ - Yes, My Queen 🐈 - Eddie's Familiar 🎢 - Traveling Death Trap

...and sometimes I write for Other People's Eddies. funsonmunson-again's birthday game oneforthemunny's summer game oneforthemunny's one-derful year

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 15 - Have You Ever Seen The Rain

📖I need to make two apologies. First, I am so sorry for the long delay. While work was beating my ass, I actually received a rude comment on my Wattpad account for the last chapter that triggered a horrible writer's block. It was taken care of, and it didn't bother me at the time, but I didn't realize how much it affected me until I started to write. Then I decided to use it for inspiration!

Secondly, I'm so sorry for what is about to unfold. This one was planned from the get-go (which is also probably why I struggled because this is the one chapter I dreaded having to write).

(I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come, Woot Woot!)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, verbal fights, sexist implications, one slap across the face, and Jake being Hangman.

#6k words

Part 14 | Masterlist | Part 16

The story behind how you started ego-checking some of the cocksure pilots at Hard Deck is less interesting than one might think.

It all started with a game. 

You weren't kidding when you told Jake you were a library, loving geek who'd rather spend her time deep in the stacks. That was the plot of your entire post-secondary experience. You didn't know how to flirt. You stayed clear of frat parties and cliquey groups. And if a guy tried to flirt with you, you ran for the freaking hills without a backward glance.

You only decided to take that bartending job in building H's damp, dark basement because you were dead-ass broke. But the thing about being a bartender on a University campus, there were moments when you had nothing but time on your hands.

You had to get creative.

Looking back, you would blame the writer-orientated part of your mind that decided to create that little game of making up stories for the people who regularly visited the miserable bar.

The quiet girl, always sitting in the back corner, cramming for a test or writing a paper. Did she like the ambience, or was she avoiding the library? Or was she trying to work up the nerve to ask out one of the bussers, waiting for the perfect meet cute?

Maybe the nerds who gathered every Friday at the arcade-style game consoles playing Pac-Man needed to leave their dorm because Friday nights tended to be the one night everyone liked to party.

Those popular girls sitting around a table with their $5 cocktails, lowcut tanktops, and jean shorts, always on their phones gossiping over the latest social media post from their favourite celebrities. Did they have Regina George in their ranks? Which one was sleeping with the other's boyfriend? How much blackmail did they have on each other?

Which one would murder the other first?

That little game you invented for yourself got you out of your shell. It also made it easier to deal with the persistent football jocks who'd try to flirt with you for a free shot.

Ridley would always get a kick out of it whenever you told her. You'd always imagined her curling up in a ball and kicking her feet back and forth while she squealed in laughter over the phone.

"Be a character in one of your freaking stories. Or better yet, act it out! You're a damn writer, Lizzie."

She was right. So you did. 

You'd never forget the laughter of that football jock when your rejection of his flirting attempts to weasel a free drink out of you resulted in his childish reply of, "Well, nobody's perfect, Sweetheart, least of all you."

"I never said I was," you had said with a smile.

You must have said something right because a few minutes later, Penny was introducing herself and chatting you up, asking if you wanted a better job bartending.

You were all too happy to leave. But nothing could have prepared you for the hotshot, ego-driven, and stupidly horny Top Gun pilots who frequented the Hard Deck. 

Between remembering their drink order or what side of the room they tended to gravitate towards, you needed more than your little guessing game to figure out their tells. You did pick up little things about them, though.

The WSOs were the kindest; ironically, they stood out in the crowds. Always a kind smile, never a bad thing to say about anyone.

The female pilots were always badass. At least, you thought so. Strong. Always commandeering the room the second they walked in. Always nice, no question about it. But mess with them; you got schooled hard.

They were the literal definition behind the saying, 'Do no harm, but take no shit.'

And with each new group that came in, the male pilots, the single flyers you had called them, paled compared to those jocks. They never changed. A pair constantly vied for first place with each new group that came through the Top Gun program.

Always a pair of males. Women always knew there was more at stake than a freaking trophy.

Those guys talked to you. Well... properly flirted at you.

That's where your little game came in handy. Picking out the little things about them, letting your mind do the creative parts next. It's how you turned Jake down so quickly that first time.

But the guy currently approaching the bar? He did not fit the bill of any regular customer you had seen in a while.

Tourists came and went without question. They stood out like a pack of flies, unsure where to go, with friendly faces and always asking what the best places were. They tipped great, and they never returned.

This guy? 

Not a tourist.

He was from out of town. The plaid shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were unusual for a California bar. It was also how he gaped at the walls and ceiling, taking in all the Navy memorabilia Penny had collected over the years. If you hadn't been paying attention, you could have sworn there was a look of distaste on his face with each new item he saw.

But what irked you was the sense of familiarity you couldn't place while looking at him. Blonde hair and a sharp face. Something in how he carried that toothpick between his teeth, not in the way god forbid fucking Tyler had, but as if it was a piece of grass. Also, in the way he walked.

Then he openly leered at a woman's ass as she walked by, and it all made sense.

Ah, a Wham, Bam, Thank You, Mam.

He sat in the empty chair directly in front of you, still watching the women's retreating form. You didn't want to serve him, but a tiny part of you hoped your assumption had been wrong.

It had been a while since you had to rebuff flirty advances; the newer pilots going through the Top Gun Program hardly said anything to you except smile and relay their order.

You suspected Jake was behind it.

"What can I get you?" you smiled at the guy. He slowly pulled his eyes away with a sly grin. The second he caught sight of your face, his mouth stretched even wider as he leaned forward on the bar.

"Your number and the name of a good hotel."

You should have known better. 

If it looked like a duck, it quacked like a duck too.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you straightened the line of shot glasses under the bar, not once looking up as you answered him. "Well, I can answer one out of two of those questions, but I'm afraid the only hotels around here are resorts. There is a bed and breakfast about ten minutes down the road that will give you a good deal."

"Will they give me a good deal if I mention your name?"

"Only my friends know my name, and you are simply a customer sitting at my bar wanting a drink?" you raised your eyebrow, tapping your finger against the bar.

He made a show of thinking about it, rocking his shoulders back and forth. He finally nodded, leaning forward to answer you.

"Whiskey. Straight."

You recognized his accent as you reached beneath the bar to grab the bottle. It was more pronounced and slightly more profound, but without a doubt, he sounded like Jake.

Good old southern Texas Charm.

Normally you'd engage in small talk, but you wanted nothing more than to leave this asshole alone. Thinking he'd leave it be after you poured him his drink, you slid the glass forward, then made your way over to the other side of the bar.

The words he called out after you made you stop in your tracks.

"You must get attention all the time. Having your pick of the litter each year."

You whipped around, offended. " Are you calling me easy?!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying a good-looking woman like yourself, in this place... you clearly aren't sticking around because of the pay."

Oh, you wanted this guy gone. That could have been one of the most double-standard comments you had ever received. Old Liz would have sputtered, maybe run into the back fridge and asked one of the other bartenders to handle it.

You now? No chance in hell. If he were going to give it, you would give it right back. You weren't going to play the boyfriend card. You could fight your own battles, and something told you even if you told him you had a boyfriend, he'd think you were lying. He seemed like the type that wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You've got some nerve." You crossed your arms, matching back to him from the other side of the bar. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not here because I'm looking for attention or have trouble finding a date. You've spent all of two minutes sitting at this bar, talking shit, while I've been fighting the urge to point out your confusion regarding basic anatomy." 

He raised his eyebrows at your reply. "My confusion?" 

You leaned forward, resting your arms upon the bar, eyeing him sourly. "Is your mouth your asshole, or are you just one?" 

It was one of the more cruder remarks you had ever responded with. But this guy was trying to go for gold. Unphased, he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up. "Hey, no need to be aggressive. You should take it as a compliment. I never called you anything derogatory." 

You huffed, pushing yourself away from him, rolling your eyes. "Calling me good-looking, then proceeding to say I'm only working here because it's 'easy to access' is still calling a woman a slut. You don't need to say the word to imply the meaning." 

You ripped the dishrag from your shoulder, running it under the tap, muttering more to yourself, "There's no way that shit works on women."

"It does on the women back home," he answered you.

"Oh, so are you staying? Don't tell me you're a new pilot at Top Gun."

They'll beat that attitude right out of you.

"Oh, I'm just passing through. I figured I'd scout out the area. I heard this was a Navy bar. Don't understand what all the fuss is about." 

You didn't answer him. Opening your mouth only led to him replying, and the quicker he finished his drink, the faster he'd leave. He took your silence as a means to continue. 

"Still playing hard to get?" 

"You ask me a question. I might choose not to answer." 

"Wow. Subtle." 

You turned, a hand on your hip. "You can't honestly expect me to speak to you, a complete stranger, after the way you just undermined my job because I'm not giving to your attempts. There is nothing to get." 

He smiled, holding out his hand. "George Seresin. There, not a stranger."

Well, shit.

You wanted to hang your mouth open like a fish. You were staring down Jake's brother.

Now you understood Jake's reaction to Janet's warning. His anxious behaviour in the back of his truck. His lost-in-thought stares or the way he couldn't stop looking at you and Sadie when he came home from work this week.

George Seresin was a very unwelcome, uninvited and long-awaited guest.

Something snapped in your stomach, a twinge of weariness that Jake didn't confide in you. Then again, your slight disappointment was overshadowed by something greater.

Clearly, you were fated to ego-check both Seresin brothers while standing behind this bar. Because the idea came without warning, without doubt, or any sense of hesitancy. 

George Seresin was at the Hard Deck.

He was right in front of you, trying to flirt with you without any idea who you were. 

And he was sitting in the best spot in the entire place.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You stepped backwards, turning to lean up against the bar. As you did with Jake all those months ago, you took the rag and started to wipe.

"So let me get this straight," you said, dragging the damp cloth around his glass, not once looking up. "I tell you my name in some effort to prove we are not strangers. I'm supposed to forget about your 'comments,' so you can use that good old Texas charm to woo me into your bed with a promise of a good time?"

You finally looked up, George only staring back at you with a heated smoulder.

"Something tells me none of those loose cannons cannot even promise you a good time. A quick roll in the sheets before they let some brass monkey in a fancy suit tell them where to shoot. You look like you could let loose for once in your life."

You froze, losing your grip on the rag and fingers twitching. Scanning Jake’s brother, you leaned against the bar, resting your weight on your elbows, throwing the fabric over your shoulder as you got inside his bubble. You never once broke eye contact as you pinned him down.

George bought it, hook, line and sinker. He was so focused on you and your face that he was oblivious to everything and everyone around him, including how your hand slowly reached up toward the rope hanging from the top of the bar.

The second he looked at your lips, you tugged.

Cheers and music flooded the Hard Deck when everyone heard the distinct ring of the barbell. You guessed the song right away, old habits dying hard.  Slow Ride, its distinct beat letting you know Jake was here and he had seen the whole thing.

George reeled back, shocked as a few people came up and slapped him on the back, thanking him. You laughed softly at his reaction, pushing yourself away to help the few customers you knew who would take advantage of the free drink.

You had never rang the bell for someone like him. George Seresin would be the only exception.

"What the hell just happened?" he called after you. You didn't bother turning around, flinging your hand to gesture over your head, "Read the sign!"

George followed the direction of your hand, landing on the piece of wood dangling by the silver chain.

You disrespect a lady, the navy, or you put your cell phone on the bar, you buy a round.

You had already helped a few customers when he managed to tear his eyes away to glare at you heatedly. You turned to face him with a gleeful grin. Instead of asking him which one he thought you rang him out for, you started teasingly singing along to the chorus.

You hadn't done that in a while. It felt good.

"What did he do to warrant that?" 

You smiled up at Jake as he approached the bar. He never took his eyes off you as he leaned on his elbow against the top of the bar beside George. 

"What do you think?" you laughed at him.

Jake smirked. "I'd say he didn't take no for an answer."

"He did a little more than that. Tell him to put his cell phone on the bar, and he'd get three out of three."

"Ouch," Jake dramatically drawled. He finally turned his head, nodding once in his brother's direction. "Hi, Georgie." 

You stiffed a giggle. 

George huffed, jutting his chin out in your direction. "This one is trouble."

"Don't I know it," Jake said, looking back at you. "Pulled the same trick on me the first time I met her. Only she didn't ring the bell. Guess I did something right, considering she let me come back."

George glanced between you and Jake several times, and you could see the gears grinding in his head. 

"Hi," you beamed at him, walking over and holding out your hand. "Elizabeth Beck. Your brother's girlfriend. I guess we aren't strangers after all."

George stared down at your hand, then gritting his teeth, knocking back another gulp of whiskey. He spat out his following words with the glass still to his lips, "So you are real. Jake, there's no way you're dating her."

 You didn't try to hide the snark from your voice as you lowered your hand. "You thought I was imaginary? Sorry to disappoint."

George still chose to ignore you. "What's the matter, little brother? Need your girlfriend to speak for you?"

Jake stiffened, and it took everything in you not to ring the bell once more. Cause you knew if you did, Jake would be the one to help throw George out, and you didn't know what repercussions he could face.

"At least he has a girlfriend," you scoffed. "I can't imagine you've ever had a meaningful relationship with how you treat women."

You spied his empty whiskey glass, grabbing it firmly.

"Wham."

Sliding it across the bar's smooth surface, you caught it in the palm of your other hand.

"Bam."

Reaching into the pocket of your apron with your free hand, you slapped his bill down in front of him, rounds and all, attempting your best version of a Texan accent.

"Thank you, Mam."

Not wanting to waste more time on him, you turned to Jake, slightly worried. Some of you didn't know how to act around Jake when he was like this. When he was so... Hangman.

You gently touched his wrist, murmuring softly, "I'll see you in a half hour?"

He twisted his arm in your grasp, sliding his hand down so he could gently squeeze yours. But his eyes screamed a different, intense, unsettling story. As if he was assessing you for any threat.

"Sure."

You tried not to let it bother you, his non-chalent reply. Trying not to frown, you let go of his wrist to serve another customer, calling out as you walked away, "It was nice meeting you, Georgie!"

Jake watched you go with a slight turn of his head, proud you one-upped his brother but wishing you didn't leave him alone.

He knew why George was here. What he wanted him to do. No amount of smirk, cockiness, or even Hangman, could save Jake from this. George was the grave reminder that no matter where the Navy sent him, whether in California or on the other side of the world, there was no end to the metaphorical leash the 'hell bringer' had on both of his sons. 

George scraped his chair back to stand. "Come on, little brother," he gruffed out, tossing his credit card onto the bar. "We need to have a chat."

—-

With Ridley's Jean jacket in hand and your bag, you placed them on the bar as you greeted Jimmy after finishing your shift. "Can you watch these for a second, Jimmy? I'm just going to the bathroom before I find Jake. We're going to pick Sadie up from Penny's and take her out for dinner."

The older man smiled. "She's feeling better?"

You nodded. "Mild concussion. She was okay after a few days and back at school. Bummed about not being able to play in soccer playoffs, though. Hence the trip."

"That girl loves her soccer. What a shame."

"Jake's is making it easier on her. I don't know what I would do without him."

He tilted his head towards the bathroom hall with a knowing grin. "Go get ready for your date."

You blushed, walking away, calling over your shoulder, "It's not a date!"

After freshening yourself up, you took a few moments to stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You saw the famous callsign board hanging on the wall behind you. You scanned the names from the mirror, looking for Jake's, doing a double take when you couldn’t find it. You turned, properly facing the wall.  

Like the sign in the bar, it was a piece of wood with the words engraved into the top, “Ladies Beware: Navigate the Hard Deck with Care!” and underneath that, “Pilots who fly solo.” Several metal slots were glued to the surface, designed so she could easily slide plastic slate with a pilot’s callsign into place. 

You recognized a few, even Rooster's, though his was listed way further down, out of harm’s way. But Jake's was nowhere to be found. 

Then you realized - Penny had taken his name off.

She didn't do that for a lot of people. You could only recall one other instance when she removed a pilot's callsign from that board. She prided herself on it, so much so she never removed Maverick's at the top of the list, even after they got back together.

You needed to tell Jake. 

With a hint of a smile, you eagerly walked out of the bathroom to find him. He was standing with George at the pool table, the elder Seresin brother lining up a shot as he spoke. As you approached them, you honed in on Jake, realizing he looked uncomfortable. Stiff, shoulders square, and his fists were clenched tight.

The closer you got, the more you heard of their conversation, and when you heard Sadie's name fall from George's mouth, you froze. Hearing him utter her name, especially in that hardened tone, was a punch to the gut. The urge to hide behind one of the support pillars in the middle of the room at the last second was too great to ignore, and you made yourself as small as possible. 

You had stumbled upon a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. George’s voice accompanied the sound of the eight-ball scattering the balls across the table. 

"Come on, man," he said, his tone laced with arrogance. "Think about it. She threw her whole life away for her niece. She's tied down now, and you deserve someone who can give you more than that."

Jake remained silent. George continued, encouraged by his lack of protest. "You're a Navy pilot, for crying out loud. You could have anyone you want. Why settle for a girl with so much baggage?"

You weren’t stupid. You knew enough about George to realize he was the golden child, the favourite used to getting his way. George would only see you as Jake’s attempt to one-up him on something. 

“You know why I'm here,” you heard him say firmly. “Dad doesn’t approve. He wants you to know if you continue on with her, you will never be welcomed back home.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your stomach. There would never be a time when you asked Jake to choose you over his family, even with what you knew. You wanted to go out there, but this was Jake’s battle. Storming out to threaten anything but a kick to the balls was out of the question. 

But when Jake finally spoke, his words were like shards of ice piercing your skin.

"Yeah, you're right."

A strangled noise escaped from you, a sound of raw pain and disbelief. You clapped your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sob threatening to escape. George’s reply triggered the blood rushing through your ears, the pain in your forearm from your nails biting hard into the skin. 

“You know I am,” he laughed, another clack of the pool balls sounding out. “

There was only one way you saw this - Jake played you like he played those other bartenders. 

You couldn’t hide any longer. You pushed yourself away from the pillar, swerving around to confront them. 

“So Sadie and I were just a game to you?” 

Jake turned sharply, shock in his eyes. “Liz,” he held his hands out in front of him. “It’s not what…” 

“Not what?” you said heatedly, tears streaming from your eyes. “I heard plenty!” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, confronted with your beat red face and tears. You were not supposed to hear all that. 

The shock on his face was not enough to erase the sting of his words.

"Come on, Liz. You don't understand... it's..."

"What's there to understand, Jake?" you interjected, your voice seething with a volatile mix of pain and anger. "That I'm just another one of your bartenders?"

“Liz, don’t.” 

“Enlighten me, Jake.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me all the reasons why. That bringing me flowers wasn’t a game. That getting close to my niece wasn’t a game. Asking me to give you a chance, taking me out on a date.”

 You sobbed. “Taking me up in that damn plane.” 

The thought was erupt, tearing itself from the deepest part of your mind. You couldn’t help it, the words spilling out in blinded anger. “Was my grief an opportunity for you to get into my pants? Telling me it would be alright so you could leave me high and dry? Telling me it was going to be okay?” 

There was a sudden shift in his expression, his gaze hardening. As if a switch had been flipped, the warm, understanding man you knew disappeared, replaced by a stranger draped in defensiveness and sarcasm.

"Oh, excuse me," he declared. "I didn't realize I was your knight in shining armour, rushing to your rescue the second you need all your problems fixed. The girl who never had a relationship, thinking a man would solve all her issues."

The words hit you like a physical blow, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Jake's harsh gaze didn't match his usual soft and protective demeanour. It was like looking at a stranger, someone you didn't recognize. The man before you was not the Jake you'd fallen for.

This man reminded you of your father. 

Was this his plan all along? You racked your mind, searching for any indication this had been coming. But what only stood out was Rooster's words echoing in your head where you found none. 

Did you really only add your name to the list of women Hangman had pursued?

Because here and now, those months of working through the trauma of losing Ridley didn't matter. 

Was anything about this past year even worth it? The moments you worked through when you would avoid anyone mentioning her because acknowledging her in the past tense was too much. Avoiding the things that reminded you of her. Till helped you through it.  

She would know what to say right now. She would be the one beating his ass with verbiage and scathing remarks. She would nail the moment and get it right. 

It hit you, the hidden weight of how desperately you missed her. 

Suddenly, you were that girl again, starting her first shift in that basement bar, wondering what to say to the students who saw you as a mere bookworm with no character or class - because you couldn't compare to the girl sitting in the corner writing her paper, actually having the courage to ask that busboy out. 

Or the geeks in the corner cheering as hard as they did when they beat their high score on the console, uncaring of strange looks. Or that girl, finally standing up to her 'so-called friends' when one had been spreading rumours and crude remarks about her to the others behind her back. 

He really did leave you out to dry. 

"Stay the fuck away from my niece," you managed to gasp through your tears. "And stay the fuck away from me."

You wanted to believe your assumption that Jake was merely putting on a front. Hangman, his alternate self, was his attempt at protecting himself. 

You had a hard time doing so.

There, plain as day, across his face was the most condensing grin you had ever seen as he dramatically drawled out slowly, "No fucking problem, sweetheart."

You didn't believe in thinking about everything you regretted throughout your life. Ridley was the only exception; if you had done more, moved back home after school, or gone to the police the day you kicked Tyler out, maybe she'd still be here. You couldn't change what had happened in your life, so spending time thinking about it in the present wouldn't do you much good. 

So it was no surprise to you when you followed through with your knee-deep reaction, your hand coming up out of nowhere, open and firm, slapping Jake hard enough across the side of his face, his head turning with the force of it.

You knew you shouldn't have. You weren't a violent person by any means. Next to Tyler, you never had raised a hand to anyone. You were too hurt to care you just slapped him.

That should have scared you shitless.

Rather than voice the obvious, you remained silent, allowing every repressed thought, every buried emotion to resurface.

Ridley - dead. 

Sadie - hurt. 

Tyler - lurking. 

Bradley - damaging.

It was all too much.

George's figure stood out from behind Jake amongst your blurry vision, tears creating a vignette in your line of sight. You tore past Jake, sticking your finger out only to push George square in his chest. He stepped back at the force, hand shooting out to balance himself against the pool table.

Jake wouldn't have done that had George not shown up. Had he not played with Jake's emotions.

"You need a fucking ego check and to grow the fuck up," you seethed at him. "I don't know whose got your balls on a very tight leash, but you have no right to go around and fucking up other people's relationships."

George didn't answer you, taking his hand off the table to stand properly. You pressed him again. "Does it give you some sick fucking pleasure to hurt your brother? Dad loves me best, so I'm going to remind everyone just cause I can?"

George was still avoiding your heated glare, fixating on his football ring, twisting the piece of metal back and forth. It only pissed you off further.

"My eyes are over here, Jackass! Have the decency to look me in the fucking eyes when I'm talking to you."

If nobody had been watching when you slapped Jake, you clearly had their attention now. Even with the music blasting from the speakers, every conversation in the Hard deck had gone quiet. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but you couldn't care less.

You were too far gone.

George slowly cocked his head to face you. Your breath was harsh, your body jolting with each gasp as you gave in to the anger. "My sister died, and I took in my niece. What's so fucking wrong about that? That I threw my life away, that I have no future?" 

He shifted on his feet, about to transfer the pool stick into his other hand, when you reached out and snatched it out of his grasp, tossing it behind you with a clack. 

"You're damn right I did! That's what you do for people you love. I would sacrifice my entire life so she could have hers. And I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat. I will stay on the other side of that bar for the rest of my so-called miserable life, getting catcalled and dealing with assholes like you if it gives her the best shot with the shitty hand she's dealt. You, George Seresin, have no right to judge the choices I've made in my life." 

Your breathing was harsh, ribs aching with effort. Every vein, every pore, was consumed with pure white rage. And yet, you still found yourself growling out, "You have no right judging your brothers either." 

Even after breaking your heart, you still stood up for Jake. 

"He risks his life every single time he goes up in that jet just so the whole world can fucking survive. So you can go on day in and day out and let your father control what you want to do with your life. So you can gallant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours? So Jake’s here for you to bully and control every time he comes home? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The burning sensation in your cheeks mirrored the fire in your eyes, unshed tears making them shine brighter. The salty sting of tears blurring your vision did little to diminish the searing gaze you levelled at George.

"My sister believed everyone deserved a chance. That people cared, regardless of what they did or who they were. I had forgotten that until my niece invited Jake to a barbeque, till she invited him on a hike because he was being treated differently. Despite what I heard and everyone telling me otherwise, listing off why I shouldn’t. That he will hurt me and my niece, and I still gave him a chance.”  

Squaring your shoulders and balling your hands to fists at your side, you take a step forward, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You lean towards him, your face close enough to feel his breath, your jaw clenched and muscles tight.  

"You are the first person ever to prove my sister wrong,” your voice is dangerously low, underlying anger accompanying each word. “You sure as hell don't deserve that sentiment." 

As you stepped away, George lifted his head to glance around the room, everyone's eyes pinning him down. The older Top Gun instructors had stood at their tables and chairs, arms crossed. Some of the current students in the program also stood, the others sending him the most scathing glares they could manage. Even some regulars who weren't aviators were casting him a scornful glance.

You spun, ready to leave him in embarrassment and escape this literal fucking mess, when you caught Jake's bewildered gaze, his mouth hanging open in slight shock.

You weren't sure whether it was that look or the dying embers of your outburst that made you spin back around to snarl, "So, leave your brother the fuck alone! Live your own goddamn life without judging others for the choices they make! Cause you sure as hell don't know what it means to sacrifice something for those you love. If you need an example, look around this goddamn room."

Jake reached for your wrist as you charged toward the front door. The second you felt his touch, you shook your hand loose, a wrenching sob tearing through your chest.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

You didn't bother seeing his reaction to your remark, rushing to grab your bag and Ridley's jean jacket off the bar.

The skin around your wrist burned from his touch, the rough callouses once a comfort but now felt like coarse sandpaper. You wanted to get under a shower or jump in the sea, hoping to remove the feeling of every memory, kiss, and word.

God, you let him touch you. Do things with you.

You were going to throw up.

God forbid you didn't want to walk home. But you needed to go, be anywhere but here, and you didn't have your car. Barely keeping it together as you took off toward the door, you had half a mind to look up to watch where you were going, deaf to Jake's shouts of your name.

There was Bradley, sitting in the first booth by the door. His brow furrowed as you made your way over to him, probably having witnessed the ordeal. You were too upset even to question why he wasn't marching across the bar, ready to knock Jake to next Sunday.

It had been weeks since the fight, with no communication in between. But it was a distant memory compared to this. 

It didn't matter what he implied. It didn't matter what happened in your hallway.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

You just needed your friend.

With each step you took toward him, your shame only grew greater. You couldn't even look him in the eye when you stopped, standing next to his side of the booth, hugging yourself tighter.

"Can you take me home, Bradley? I don't want to be here anymore."

Bradley's opportunity to act smug had finally arrived. But he didn't do anything other than frown. Standing up from his booth, he threw a few bills onto the table before blocking everyone's view of you. He placed a comforting hand on your back, gently pressing you forward as he uttered quietly, "Of course I can, Liz."

You kept your head down as you stepped towards the door, but Bradley, so willing to help you without so much of an 'I told you so,' made whatever resolve you had, crumble. Your knees wobbled, and your heart dropped into your stomach. You fell, and Bradley's arm whipped out, gripping your hip and pulling you tight to his side to support your weight.

Burying your head into Bradley's shoulder, you hid your face. You didn't want to see the looks of everyone in the Hard Deck, whether pity, concern, or applause, as another wave of tears wrecked your body.

Closing your eyes seemed better than reliving the truth.

And because you kept them shut, you didn't see George place a hand on Jake's shoulder, preventing him from going after you. Nor did you see the look of devastation wreck his face; the weight of every wrong decision he had ever made coming back to haunt him. 

Whether Jake turned on a dime to punch George square in the jaw, you heard none of it. You hadn't even bothered to turn back to look as Bradley carried you out the front door.

.... So... Who is going to pitchfork me first? 👀

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Part 16 - In the Blood coming soon

Wickett ;)

[factual-fantasy]

27 ASKS! :D FANK U! :}}} 💖

Ah! That I did. I mistook them for a bot.

Folks, you gotta put a unique profile picture of some kind and at least put in your bio "IM NOT A BOT!!-" If you have all the default stuff artists like me will assume you're a bot and just block you on sight :(

Sorry about that- I unblocked your friend. And thank you! I'm glad you like my stuff! :DD

Well,, Seam has some permeant injuries too. :( Such as his missing eye and the scars around his neck and wrists that will never fully heal..💔

Between sci-fi or fantasy? I thiiiink I prefer fantasy. XD And no its not just becuase of my name-

(Post in question)

Looking back I didn't illustrate it super well- it was intended to be something less earthy, yes. Not straight black though, It was supposed to be a really dark red. It seems black.? But anything it stains is stained red. And it was supposed to be rather thick compared to human blood.

If I ever draw it again, I'll be sure to get it to look right next time <XD

@khoiazo

@thesleepyteen1214

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like it! :}}

Now as for Peso. I think its impossible for Peso and Barnacles to have met as kids- not only is there that age difference,, But I thought that polar bears are from the Arctic, and penguins are from the Antarctic. On the other side of the planet!

None the less- if they somehow met, I don't imagine much would happen other than them potentially becoming friends. :0 Kwazii sure ain't going anywhere, he's sticking with Barnacles family!

Oh man, if Bibi and the gang were real they'd all be screwed.😔 I don't have what it takes to take care of them properly in the real world-

I imagine that the Deltarune crew only really stay in worlds that seem safe. So if it looks safe? They'll stay. And probably not think too much about all the weird critters running around <XD

Not sure how the FNAF guys would react. A world where imaginary friends come to life seems impossible! They might think the imaginary friends are actually animatronics-

The princess quest game wasn't implemented into any of my AUs,, sorry! <:/

I've seen the game floating around, though I don't really know what its about. Also I heard whispers of a potential controversy..? Idk I'm a bit weary of the game <XD

If Freddy had a problem where he started hoarding lost kids after hours? That would be horrible for the kids.. but pretty slick for Vanessa.. 👀

Aww! That's so cute! I love all the different names! XD Having someone to man/assist in the cupcake factory would be really cool/useful as well! :DD

@beryl-shade

I was thinking that no one else in the group other than Frisk remembers. But Jevil? He.. had some kind of reaction to it.

Like when the reset occurred, Jevil had this horrible spike of anxiety and he broke out in a cold sweat and shakes. But before he could even process what was wrong, Frisk swooped in and saved Seams life. Right after he was saved, the shaking and sweating began to subside.. huh, strange..

(The second question was answered in the ask right above this one! :} )

In the comic that I was intending to draw- we would see little snip-bits of most everyone's reactions.

Jevil reacted how you'd expect.. he completely broke down. Screaming and wailing over Seams body..

Frisk froze at first, but then turned on her heel and sprinted into the woods in order to uh.. reset. No screaming, no panic. Just dead silent, sprinting into the woods..

Goner kid was freaking out so bad over Jevil screaming that when she saw Frisk run.. all she could think to do was run after her. So she did..

We don't see Grillby's face, but you can see his hand light up greenish/blue and his coat burst into flames as he realized Seam is dead..

River and Spamton weren't really meant to be seen on screen. But you can see Asgore physically become more misty/unstable when Jevil started screaming..

You know? Maybe for the sake of everyone it was better that I didn't end up drawing all that <XD 💔

No no, nothing about tombstones. The Easter egg lies in this panel.. 👀

@snickerdoodlezz

F.. FANK U,,, 💖🍽

Thank you so much!! :D

As for my brushes? I just use the standard pencil brush set to 3.0 for sketching and line art. And I use the standard pen tool for coloring! :}

@youlikwjazz004

I have seen a decent sized chunk of Adventure Time yes! Although I don't really know the story and I definitely don't know all the characters,,

But out of the characters I do know? It would have to be Simon Petrikov! ✨ With Jake as a close second. Aaaand maybe Prismo as a 3rd placer? I don't know him too much but his design slaps and he seems really chill 😎

(comic in question)

As Freddy explains, he (and the others) had a "bug" in his system. Which made his eyes purple. (Although he wasn't aware that they were purple-)

And after he crashed on stage they reset his system. Wiping the "bug" from his programming. Turning his eyes blue again :0

@storylover2

I imagine that what ever it tastes like depends on my mood. Lately its probably tasted like when you just brushed your teeth and you eat an orange 😖

Also please do not eat my noggin I need that to art-

@ocinstituterep

It's been a while since I've thought about them.. 🤔 If we're using the same formula as I did before.. (the stories of the real life cars are translated to the characters).. then that means some of them aren't doing so hot <XD

We've got a few break downs, some are still broken down. A few sold to better homes.. and a few new (very old) comers! Some are back on the road and some are still on the road when they probably shouldn't be <XD

All in all, I'd say they're doin ok :}

@beelze-juicee

:DDD THANK YOU!! And don't worry, I'm sure I'll come back to it every so often. Even though I'm a bit weary of this fandom.. I cant help but love the characters and want to draw them sometimes XD

(Kirby family in question)

<XD Sorry, no can do! I'm glad you like them! And thank you! But I'm afraid my blessings cannot be purchased.. <:/

@ninaandthegames

Yooo that is the coolest dog I have ever seen 😎

:D Thank you! And I'm not currently into any animes.. although there are some that I attempted to watch and liked for a while :0

Such as Kirby right back at ya and My hero academia! :0

@elegysonnet @willthemechanist (Post in question)

XD He's just embodying his spirit animal. A narwhal ✨🦄🐟✨