#I probably should be concerned about that

[huh-i-guess]

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 

“Listen I-” 

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 

“Did you lad?” Price probed. 

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  

“Jesus, Simon.” 

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.” 

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

[aurorawritestoescape]

WALLET PHOTO || DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel and you are in a secret relationship but one day Joel notices that you’re not very careful at keeping the secret.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, age gap (how big is up to you), soft!Joel, taking nudes, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), squirting, creampie. Reader wears a skirt. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: written for @justagalwhowrites ‘s Joel Miller Birthday celebration! I chose dbf Joel and secret relationship. Thank you for a wonderful challenge, Kit 💕and Happy Birthday to tloml, Joel Miller!❤️ Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 I’ve never written dbf and I hope y’all like it! Love you! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

After an afternoon movie date with Joel you’re sitting on your bed in your room with a shoe box on your lap. Joel’s leaning against the door frame, watching you with a soft smile. Your noisy roommate is not in so you two are enjoying each other’s company in the quiet apartment.

Joel knows about your big collection of movie tickets and doesn’t ask any questions when you take today's trophy out of your wallet with a content smile and place it in the box. You’re telling him how much you hate the introduction of electronic tickets when Joel interrupts you.

"Hey! Show me that.”

With his expression serious all of a sudden he steps up towards you, his arm stretched and waiting.

“What?"

"Your wallet. Give me.”

“Ehm... no.”

You're hurriedly trying to shove it back into your tiny handbag but Joel’s too fast. He bends down, yanks the wallet out of your fingers and opens it. You sigh deeply when he looks down at you with a heavy scowl that speaks volumes.

You don’t say anything and after a few moments of heavy silence he breaks it.

“Baby”.

You probably should feel concerned but the thunder in his voice sends shivers of excitement down your spine, your heartbeat increases and you gush into your panties.

"What?"

"Why do you have my photo in your wallet?"

You pout your lips and reply with defiance,

"To look at you."

He puts his hands on his hips, his usual stance when you behave like a brat, your wallet still clenched between his thick fingers, and his usually warm but now fiery eyes under the furrowed brows are boring into you.

“What if your dad sees it?”

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure? I’ve noticed it. He might as well."

"Well..,” you start and pause, looking everywhere but his piercing eyes.

"Well what?"

“I don't know, Joel! Stop grilling me!” you exclaim, finally breaking under pressure. Then you look up at the man with your best puppy eyes and explain, “I love this photo. I love looking at it when I miss you.”

Joel sighs and his arms fall in defeat. His softness washes away the displeasure off his handsome face as soon as he notices that you’re upset.

His voice is warm and comforting again when he argues,

"But you have a bunch of my photos on your phone.”

"Yeah, but… This is different. I love having it here. I open my wallet and BAM! You’re staring at me. So handsome and mine.” Your eyes downcast, you add, “My heart feels warm and shit when I see it.”

"Warm and shit. Jesus. You'll be the death of me, missy."

With a deep sigh he hands you the wallet back and when you are about to grab it, he clasps your wrist and gently pulls you off the bed and into his embrace. You press your nose to his warm chest, hidden behind the softest flannel, and take a deep breath of his scent. His big heart is beating steadily under your palms, his arms, muscular and strong, shield you from the outside world that is unfortunately not receptive to your relationship.

You feel a kiss planted on the top of your head and look up at Joel. Your eyes lock as you talk without speaking, confess the things that both of you have no guts to verbalize yet. Instead you connect by sharing the warmth of your bodies, letting your heartbeats harmonize with each other.

As always when you’re with Joel, the warmth quickly morphs into scorching fire and your body starts demanding him just as much as your heart. Your core ignites, sending flames of wet desire to your aching pussy and you lick your lower lip, inviting your secret lover to get a taste.

“My beautiful girl”, Joel whispers, as his pupils dilate, eyes slide over the curve of your mouth and he leans down. The kiss, gentle, slow and wet, soon overwhelms you, makes your whole body tremble with need and you cuddle into his arms as close as you can.

Joel seems impatient to have you too and when he slightly bucks his hips, you feel him stiff against your lower belly. You breathe out his name and take a step back, pulling him by the hand towards your bed. He sits down on the foot of it and you swiftly straddle his thighs.

“Damn, baby,” Joel growls as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek and your hips start rolling gently against his hard bulge. He throws your open wallet on the bed and you turn to look down at the photo.

Joel follows the direction of your eyes and says with a soft smile, “I remember that day.”

“Yeah, it was my birthday. You looked so hot in that blue shirt.”

“Really?” Joel beams at you like a cat sitting in the sun and his dark eyes are darting between yours while his hands are gripping your hips tighter.

“Yeah. We weren't together yet but I was already… I already liked you.”

“Oh,” Joel mumbles and then tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Didn’t ya have a boyfriend back then? I remember some guy being there with you.”

“Yeah, I did,” you smirk and then nuzzle his scruffy cheek, purring against it, “but the entire party I was wet because of my dad’s buddy.”

Joel growls and squeezes the softness of your hips as you sit straight and admit, locking eyes with him,

“ ‘s why I took that photo. Wanted to have something of you.”

Joel’s looking up at you as if you’re an angel fallen

from heaven. Not used to expressing his feelings, he pulls you closer, kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly.

“I… never thought I’d feel all this again. Never thought you’d be mine. ‘m lucky to have you.”

You hold your breath and freeze in his arms, scared to ruin this beautiful moment.

Joel pulls away from you and searches for your eyes.

"I want your photo too, sweetheart. Wanna feel warm and shit when I open my wallet," he quotes you with a wink and adds, "Your dad be damned."

You giggle, the sound ringing with excitement, and swiftly get off him.

“Let’s take it now!”

You hurry to your desk, open the first drawer and look for your Polaroid camera. Then you return to Joel, handing it to him.

“Where should I sit?”

You look about your bedroom, chewing on your lip, searching for the best place to pose at.

“Not the bed, baby. I should have at least the benefit of the doubt if someone sees it.”

You laugh and then take a seat in your chair at the desk, thighs pressed together, covered partially by your short skirt, hands clasped in your lap.

Joel gets up, and when you give him your most innocent smile, he pushes the button.

The picture slides out immediately and Joel pulls it out and starts shaking it, stepping up to you, waiting for it to develop.

“If I look bad, we’ll take another one, k?” you ask, your big eyes directed at Joel.

“You couldn’t look bad even if you tried, baby.”

Warmth fills your chest as he cups your cheek and you nuzzle his warm palm. Then you impatiently take the photo from his hand and look at it.

“It’ll do,” you comment with a happy grin.

You show it to Joel and he bends over and squints looking at it.

“Do you need your glasses?” You ask with a naughty smile and Joel throws you the look.

“I don’t,” he straightens up and takes the photo from you to inspect it closely.

“Huh. You look like such a good girl.”

You fake gasp, plant your hands on your knees and bat your lashes at him with exaggeration.

“Ain’t I a good girl, Joel?”

The man puts the photo on your desk and steps up so close that his jeans brush your naked knees. You squirm when he pinches your chin and tilts your head up to face him.

“We both know how bad this good girl can get.”

The way he says it, voice low and gruff, eyes blown out and full of fire, sends shivers down your spine and you feel a new surge of wetness spill into your already soaked panties.

“Yeah,” you agree and bite your lip when an idea lights up in your mind. “We can take one more photo. Of your bad girl.”

Joel’s chest expands, and he shifts his jaw while his hungry gaze is sliding down your body.

“You’ll let me?”

You nod, melting under his scorching look.

His expression is serious, almost dark, when he takes the camera off the desk. You try to contain your excitement, calm down the fire burning deep in your core, before you take a deep breath. Joel steps back and sits down on the bed, thighs spread, holding the camera in his big hands but not lifting it to his eyes.

“Show me what you wanna do, baby.”

“Ohh.” You raise your eyebrows playfully at the man. “You can be unhappy with my pose?”

“What if my bad girl gets too shy to come out?” He smiles and you bite your lower lip, giddy with the challenge presented to you.

After a few moments of contemplation you start by taking your top off. You give Joel a little show, sliding the clothing off your body slowly, gliding your hands over your exposed skin. Soon you’re left sitting in your lacy bra and a skirt and Joel seems to love it. He throws his thighs wider and adjusts his prominent bulge.

Wishing to show him your assets in the best way, you lean against the chair and arch your back, pushing your tits out. Your nipples are hard under the thin lace and Joel definitely sees them.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Joel praises you in a soft tone but then tilts his head to the side, a smirk twisting his lips. “Wish you showed me more.”

You narrow your eyes at the man.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s coming,” you say and seductively pull down your skirt. Joel’s eyes immediately dart to your lacy thong. Now you’re sitting only in your underwear in front of Joel, who’s still fully clothed. When you glide your palms over your body to entice the man, your arousal spikes and you desperately wish for it to be Joel’s big hands.

“Wanna take a pic now?” You know that Joel’s on the verge of getting up and ripping the last of the clothes off you but he surprises you with his reply, as he places the camera on the bed next to him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You can do better.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity and you wriggle in the seat, trying to alleviate the ache between your legs, probably leaving a wet stain on the chair.

‘He wants to play? Let’s play,’ you think and purr,

“Careful what you wish for, Mr Miller.”

Joel’s nostrils flare and a low growl rises up from his chest when he hears what you called him.

Your mischievous smile indicates that you know exactly what you’re doing and you don’t plan on stopping. Joel is always gentle with you but sometimes it’s fun to wake the other side of him, a passionate man driven by desire, ready to grab, manhandle and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.

So with a half sigh-half moan you hook your thumbs under the straps of your bra and slide them off your shoulders while Joel’s dark eyes are following your every move. His gaze glosses over when you pull your bra cups down and expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“Ohh, that’s my girl,” he croaks, moving closer to the edge of the bed, as if he’s ready to pounce on you any second.

“Still a good girl, Joel?” you purr, kneading the soft plush of your tits, and spreading your thighs a little wider.

Joel seems to be lost for words as you take the bra off and languidly move your hips back and forth, riding the chair, desperately wishing it to be Joel’s hips. Your sexy taunting backfires as the friction on your aching pussy spikes your need and you plead,

“Can you already take the pic?”

Not tearing his eyes off your body, Joel grabs the camera off the bed but still doesn’t direct it at you.

Your heart beats faster when you realize what he’s waiting for.

You’ve started dating Joel recently so every time you show him THAT part of you, your pussy, your whole body still trembles with nerves and excitement. Joel never pushes you, never asks for more that you wish to give him but you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

Before you step over the edge, you take a deep breath and spread your thighs wider. You trace your seam under the panties with your middle finger and your skin erupts with chills at the light caress. You tilt your hips up to show him more and Joel leans slightly forward and wets his lips when his eyes land on the wet spot on the fabric.

“Shall I take my panties off, Mr Miller?” Your voice is shaky with lust, as you press your finger to your hardened clit over the soaked panties. A needy moan flies out of your parted lips and Joel echoes it with a groan.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Please, show me.”

His self control is crumbling, judging by the strain in his voice. You don’t make him wait for long. You lift your hips and in a second your panties fall on the floor.

“Ohh, baby.”

Joel’s soft moan at the sight of your naked pussy gives you the needed courage, drowns your shyness in a deep pit of desire, and you slowly lift and plant your feet on the edge of the chair, one and then the other.

Your pussy opens up, weeping hole clenching, calling for your lover, and your chest and belly heave when you caress your mound and then slide your middle finger between your wet folds.

“Joel,” you whimper and his will breaks.

He gets up, brings the camera to his eyes but then lowers it to ask,

“Can I take a few photos of you?”

You smile and whisper a sultry ‘ yeah’ and Joel pushes the button, taking a photo of you sitting on the chair, your nipples perked up, legs bent and spread, hand resting between your thighs as you look up at him with your gaze lustful and needy.

He’s inching towards you and every few seconds takes another photo. Click-click-click.

“Damn, I — you’re— fuck, so hot.”

You giggle and, wanting to give him more, run your hands over your naked body so he could capture your fingers pushing your breasts together, twitching your nipples, gliding through your puffy folds. The pictures are falling on the floor, one by one, blank yet, creating a path as he’s slowly walking towards you.

Your pussy is crying, clear desire trickling from your hole and onto the chair, and you whimper when he kneels in front of you and glances up, waiting for your approval. Your cheeks burn but you nod with a smile, letting him capture the most sacred part of you.

Joel’s breathing heavily as he brings the camera to his eyes and directs it at your glistening cunt.

When the photo appears, he doesn’t look at it. Instead he’s focused on your expression, pained and needy, and your desperate ‘Joel’ falling off your lips drives him crazy. He puts the camera on the floor and clasps his big hands around your ankles.

“Are you achin’, sweetie? Do you want me to kiss your sweet pussy?”

“Yes, Joel, please, ye—”, he doesn’t let you finish, his warm lips immediately press to your cold wet folds.

A string of your loud moans fill the room after he grabs your hips, throws your thighs on his shoulders and begins eating you out. He starts with open mouth kisses to your inner thighs, slowly moves to your sopping center and licks a path from your hole to your pulsating clit. He gently sucks it into his mouth and you clench your fist in his curly graying hair, your pussy gushing onto his chin. Joel feels your wetness on his skin and lowers his mouth to drink everything you're offering him, like it’s nectar of the gods itself.

“Sweet—sweet little pussy—mine—ya mine, baby,” he mumbles and his words vibrate against your cunt, making you writhe and whimper, as he’s bringing you higher to the peak.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as his tongue begins a lascivious dance over your clit, his wet hot muscle swirling around it, rubbing it tirelessly and it’s not long until you cry out into your palm and shake, twitch, jerk against the chair, against Joel’s unyielding lips, still caressing you through the hard climax.

You sigh happily when your body relaxes, and completely drunk on endorphins, with half-lidded eyes, see Joel’s face looking up at you from between your thighs. His gaze is lustful, chin glistening with your slick, and you sit up to kiss the man who has just rocked your world.

Joel reaches up to you and you meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss lets you taste the tang of your juices on his tongue, and you hum at the delicious mixture of him and you.

“Need you, baby— need you now,” Joel murmurs against your lips. Eager as well you get up and lead him to the bed.

With impatient hands he starts unbuttoning his shirt, but you stop him.

“Let me, Joel, please,” you ask, your eyes pleading, and he grants your wish. You take his flannel off and then his undershirt. You know that he’s desperate to be inside you yet you can’t help but to glide your palms over the expense of his hairy chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength of his body, so big and broad and all yours. You unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down together with his boxers.

Joel’s chest is heaving as you both look down at his hard cock, standing proudly at attention.

You bite your lip and your eyes gloss over. It’s gorgeous. You wish you could kiss it all over, take it in your mouth, let him spill his hot cum on your waiting tongue. No, he needs your warm wet pussy.

You wrap your hand around his stiffness and Joel moans, hurriedly trying to hide the sound with a fake cough.

“No, please,” you whisper, placing your palm on his chest. “I love hearing how good you feel.”

Joel slithers his arm around you and cups your butt, pulling you closer to him, and his wet tip pokes your lower belly.

“YOU make me feel good. I can never get enough of you,” he whispers in your ear and you melt under the heat of his naked body against yours, his lips leaving kisses along your neck.

“Wanna ride you,” your murmur tells him.

Joel lies down on your bed and you straddle his thighs and take his cock in your hand before lifting your hips and hovering over it. He’s still training your pussy to take him and his big cock is still a challenge for you. You brace your hand on his chest, guide his tip to your entrance, take a deep breath before starting to sink on his member, inch by inch.

Joel shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, dipping it into the mattress.

“Oh—ohhhh—fuckin’—,” a string of pleasured sounds is leaving his open mouth and you follow him, reveling in the sensation of him pushing your walls apart, filling you nicely like no one has ever had.

Finally you’re fully sitting on his cock and he opens his eyes to look down at the place you’re joined, his length completely sheathed inside your cunt.

“Will never get used to it—warm and wet— and so fuckin’ tight. Sorry, baby,” he apologizes for cursing and you reassure him with a hazy smile,

“ ‘s ok. You’re so big inside me, Joel. It’s like I can feel you here.” You put your hand on your chest and he chuckles,

“I ain’t that big, sweetheart. But thank you for the compliment.”

You giggle but the smiles are quickly wiped off your faces when you finally move on his cock. You start riding him, rolling your hips back and forth, smearing your slick over his crotch, and then bounce up and down, alternating your movements.

Joel's hands are gripping your thighs but you need him so much that you take them and hold them up, feeling your connection brighter. Joel’s looking up at you with adoration and piety, taking in your ecstatic expression, your bouncing breasts, your skin, dewy with sweat, your glistening folds, spread around his girthy cock.

“Fuckin’ angel,” he mumbles and shuts his eyes.

“Joel, look at me. Please,” you murmur.

“Can’t, baby— can’t— I’ll come too soon—you’re too sexy.”

“I don’t care. Come. I want your eyes on me.”

He doesn’t deny you and soon he’s drinking the sight of you fucking him with full gulps.

You don’t give him any respite when you place his hands on your breasts and he begins kneading them, twitching your perky nipples. Yours meanwhile travel back, as you turn slightly and find his balls under your moving pussy. You caress them in your palm, one and then the other, then gently tug on the sack.

“Jesus, baby, want me to burst? Oh, yeah—“

You both are moaning, chasing your climaxes with increasing intensity. You tilt your hips a little to press your pulsating clit against the fluff of his pubic hair and grind, grind, grind your pussy over his lower belly. Joel’s cock moving deep inside you, your clit twitching in his coarse hair, all the sensations combined light up your body and when Joel lifts his torso on his elbow and unhinges his jaw to take as much of your breast into his hot mouth as he can, you explode with a loud cry.

He’s sucking and licking your tit as you bury your nose in his soft hair and your pussy starts clamping around his cock. A surge of wetness floods your core and you moan his name desperately, soaking his stiffness.

“I’m here, baby. I gotchu.”

Joel lies back down, plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting his hips up, plunging his cock deeper into your squirting pussy.

“Take it—take it—,” he grunts through gritted teeth, fingers digging into your soft thighs as he’s fucking you, your walls squeezing him hard, until he roars and begins spurting his cum inside you, adding to the ocean of ecstasy already filling your core. The squelching of his and your cum mixes with your moans, the music of your unity.

As soon as he stops twitching inside you, you fall on his chest and you both relax, catching your breaths, his cock slowly softening inside you.

The sweat on your skin soon cools down and you shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel coos and, still staying under you, covers your back with a bedspread.

You get warm and almost fall asleep, lulled by his steady breathing, but Joel squeezes you and whispers against your temple,

“Got something for ya.”

He moves you off him, and you shift on the bed, after feeling a wet spot under you. It’s not the first time you squirted with Joel but it still fascinates you what he can do to your body.

Meanwhile Joel gets off the bed, picks up his jeans off the floor and shoves his hand into a pocket.

He retrieves something and sits back down next to you.

You sit up, not bothering to cover your naked breasts, and crane your neck to see what he’s got in his hands. It turns out to be a long velvet box.

“Wanted to give it to you next week. For one month anniversary. But you said that you’d wanted to have something of me. So —ehm—here.”

You see a soft blush bloom on his cheeks as he speaks and butterflies dance in your belly at how cute and sweet he is. He opens the box and with two thick fingers pulls out a gold necklace. He holds the ends of it and you see a pendant hanging on it- a little heart.

You gasp at the surprise and then squeal, throwing your arms around his neck. Joel chuckles and asks you to turn around so he could put it on.

You look down at the beautiful gift, lift the heart and press it to your lips.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper and then hurry off the bed.

You grab your Polaroid camera where Joel has left it and direct it at yourself. You return to Joel with another photo in your hand - a close up of your neck and Joel’s present, resting on the top of your chest.

“Here. Your wallet photo,” you smile, handing it to your lover. “Only you know it’s me. We can keep our secret.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he croaks with his eyes sparkling and pulls you in for a kiss.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye

[schnitzelsemmerl]

hey yall, i just wanted to bring awareness to this real quick. i don't often post political or serious posts, but this needs to be said.

germany and austria have and are about to have important election. austria, for one, is gonna elect on september 29.

in the election candidating for the european parlament (which political party was gonna represent the country), people vote for the FPÖ and AFD. both of these parties are incredibly right-wing and problematic. they have talked about their plan to deport all the immigrants, will take queer rights away, and more.

the AFD has nazis in it. i'm not gonna censor or filter this word. because that's what they are. it is true. they are nazis and this is incredibly dangerous.

have they not learned from history? well. the most popular FPÖ politicians will shoot videos and ads about doing stuff like kicking out immigrants

and my friend's @lil-gae-disaster trying to raise awareness to this, all their posts have failed. they are really trying to educate people, but not many seem to care? not as much as about other elections.

don't get me wrong, we all should care about other elections. but that includes countries like austria and germany, too.

and we feel like certain nations, especially germany and austria, need to "prove themselves" to the world that they don't deserve to be represented and managed by parties trying to start ww3 or some shit.

preach about equality then not be equally concerned about issues? seriously?

i'll end this rant here, but will probably make another post, idk

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to entertainmentgirl80

Tyler Owens x Reader

Additional Note: scenes in this are improvised and aren't true to scenes in the movie (was at work when I wrote one half of it so I had to improvise. )

Would prefer if Minors DNI with this one, but nothing explicit happens, so just read at one's own discretion.

Warning: swear words, pretend sex, implied sex, let me know if i missed anything(although I'm willing to make the sex scene between the reader and Tyler if people are interested- if I added it into this it would have turned into a 3 part instead of a 2 part fic) - still very long so it probably should have been a 3 part regardless, but take it

Y/N was sitting on her bed, a book in her lap when a knock sounded at her door. She perked up, knowing exactly who it was before he walked through the door. She glanced at him as he let himself inside,their eyes catching each other's gazes as he shut the door behind him.

His eyes moved down as she closed her book, setting it on the nightstand next to her.

“Good book?”

“It's a book about lobotomies. So yes.” He raised an eyebrow in what looked to be concern as he walked further into the room. Y/N let out a laugh, a full belly laugh as she reassured him.

“I'm joking. It's a western. Not too bad.” She said, slipping out of the bed. His eyes roamed over her body, before he looked at her face, catching her staring at him with a smirk.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, moving to the fridge that resided in the room. His eyes took in the little space that she was temporarily calling her own, her bed was slightly unmade, pillows in an unorganized heap. Her suitcase was tucked underneath the bed, but a neat pile of what he assumed to be dirty clothes sat in a pop up hamper sat near the bathroom, ready to be cleaned in the downstairs laundromat.

“Whatcha got?” he asked, finally moving his gaze back to her. Tyler watched as she looked into the fridge, clicked her tongue and turned to look back at him.

“Budweiser is all I got.” she said, cracking a smile. “Not really much for choices.” Tyler shook his head.

“That is okay. But, yea. I’ll take one.” He said. Y/N nodded, turning back around and grabbing two, lifting her shirt in her hand to twist the cap off of both bottles. Tyler caught a glimpse of her body underneath the shirt, his throat going dry as he thanked her for the drink.

“Just so we are on the same page.” Y/N started, moving to her side of the bed once again. “We aren’t doing anything frisky tonight.” She looked up at Tyler as he took a swig from his drink. “There is a bag by the front door for empties. Help yourself to more if you’d like.” she said, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Y/N was silent for a few moments as the stood stared at each other, taking each other in as they stood before each other. Their eyes moved over each other, trying to read the other person. There was something there, both could feel it, and Y/N was tired of waiting, and something in her also told her that Tyler likely felt the same way.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I liked you Tyler. I don’t want things to just be a fling when the season is over.” Tyler nodded, taking a few steps towards the bed. “And we don’t have to talk a lot about it tonight, but I do want to get to you better, if that’s okay.”

Tyler nodded.

“Yea, that’s fine, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

“Great. But, everyone probably didn’t see you come up here. Someone probably did though, so we have to make things look convincing in case someone walks in uninvited-”

“They do that?” he asked. She gave him a look that told him not to ask and he only held a hand up in understanding. “Got it. Anyways, go on.”

“Strip.” Tyler nearly choked on his beer at the order, looking at Y/N as she tried to withhold laughter.

“Pardon?”

“Just to your boxers.” She explained. “I’ll replace my shirt with your flannel, it looks more intimate that way. And then I’ll take just my shorts off.”

“You’ve really thought about this darlin’.”

“Possibly.” She cracked a smile, watching him as he started to unbutton his shirt. Tyler couldn’t help but smile back at her, the grin on her face was highly infectious. He was becoming hypnotized by her and everything that was her. Once his flannel was off, he tossed it in her direction, watching as she caught it effortlessly, setting it on the bed as she turned her body slightly, starting to take her tank top off. As she slipped it off her body, and Tyler watched as she did so, he saw that she wasn’t wearing a bra, his eyes on her backside as he slipped off his pants, dropping them carelessly on the floor of the motel.

At the sound, she turned her head slightly to look at him.

“Is this okay?” She asked, her eyes catching Tyler’s gaze. His heart thudded against his chest. He was okay with it, but the thought of her making sure it was okay with it caused his stomach to flip with butterflies. Most other women would have already tried to throw themselves at him, which is what already made Y/N different from the others. She was committed. She wanted this just as much as Tyler realized he wanted it.

“Yea.” His voice came out hoarse, followed by a raised eyebrow of amusement from Y/N. “It’s okay.” He spoke softly, crawling into the bed, setting his beer on the nightstand. Tyler watched as Y/N finished changing, buttoning up two buttons in the middle of his flannel and pulling her shorts off, tossing them across the bed to settle on the floor not far from his pants.

Tyler enjoyed the sight of his flannel over her body, falling about mid thigh, giving him much to think about.

He watched as she crawled into the bed next to him, shoulders brushing each other’s as Y/N turned on the dingy and very old tv, putting some old reruns of “That 70s Show”. As the two got comfortable, sitting in silence and spending a little bit watching the tv show, Tyler watched from the corner of his eyes as Y/N grinned, turning to him.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours darlin’?” He turned his attention from the tv and to her, trying not to let his wander to her cleavage, trying to remain polite.

“What to know what would really give them the impression that we fucked?” she asked. He let out a hum, his eyes drifted briefly to her lips before back to her eyes.

“What’s that?”

“We make sex noises, rock the bed so it hits the wall.” She tried to suppress a laugh as Tyler’s grin grew to match hers.

“God I fucking love that brain of yours.” He said. She blushed at the compliment, her cheeks and ears becoming a shade of red. “But we should also throw in some dirty talk. Y’know. That will really sell it.”

“Okay. Okay. Yes. Good thinking.” Y/N nodded, agreeing. “Who goes first?”

“Ladies first.” Tyler motioned for her to begin. Y/N started giggling, finding the idea funny, watching as Tyler also started to suppress a laugh.

Turning her head away from him, she composed herself, then let out a moan.

“Fuck Tyler. Yes, just like that.” She watched as Tyler smacked his hands against his thighs, imitating the sounds of skin slapping, before a low groan escaped his throat.

“Fuck, baby. So fuckin’ tight. Takin’ me so well Darlin’.” Y/N let out more moans, grabbing the headboard and rocking it against the well.

“Feel so good, Tyler. Fuck.” Y/N and Tyler looked at each other, trying to stifle their laughter as they continued the little charade. The two continued to groan and moan in between small bouts of laughter. The dirty talk also continued, as Y/N continued to rock the headboard against the bed. The two kept the charade up for about ten minutes.

“This pussy was made for me. Fuck, Y/N. Squeezing me so well. You’re close. I know it. I feel it.So am I Sugar.” His voice was almost guttural at this point, trying to imitate him being close to an actual orgasm.

Y/N moans got higher pitched and Tyler continued to make slapping noises.

“That’s it. Such a good girl, Y/N.” Tyler let out a broken groan, and Y/N let out a moan to match his, until the two finally let out a string of expletives, their fake moans and groans becoming broken as they reached their fake orgasms. The slapping of his hands on his thighs and the pounding of the headboard stopped. The two sat in silence for several moments, before the two broke out into quiet laughter, Y/N turning her head to muffle her laughter into the skin of Tyler’s shoulder and he turned his head to bury his face into her hair, his own laughter muffled by her hair, lips pressed against her head softly.

The two sat in silence once again, pressed slightly closer to each other than what they were previously, having not moved their heads away from each other, eyes back on the tv still playing old reruns. His fingers gently grazed her thigh, and she let him, pushing her thigh closer to his hand. Tyler let his hand move up, hand now settled entirely on her thigh, drawing small shapes.

“We should play 2 truths one lie. But instead of 2 truths, it's 2 lies and one truth.” Y/N finally spoke up, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. His eyes moved down to look down at her, moving to her lips briefly before back to her eyes.

“What are we? Teenagers?”

“Please.” She begged him. Tyler let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Okay. Okay. I'll go first.” Tyler shifted slightly, getting comfortable, his grip tightening slightly on her thigh before it loosened. “Okay. I can't handle spicy foods, I've been storm chasing my entire life, and I had a Shetland pony named Ruger growing up.”

“Easy. You’ve been storm chasing you're entire life.” She said.

“No, actually. I had a Shetland pony growing up. The other two are lies. I can definitely handle spice and I've only been storm chasing since my late teens. Parents wouldn't let me go when I was younger.”

“You and a Shetland pony?”

“Yes. We were inseparable.” Tyler said, Looking down at her. “He was a Christmas gift. Absolutely adored him.”

“Figured you’d be more of a thoroughbred or Quarter horse kind of guy.”

“Nope. Had some, but Ruger was my guy.” He answered. His eyes moved back down to her. “You're turn sugar.”

“Okay. I had a thing for Javi.” She grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes, a small smile still on his face regardless. “ I've been bull riding.” She waited until his eyes moved back to her before she said the final one. Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, his head instinctively leaning down closer to her face. “I really enjoyed the kiss earlier.” His eyes moved back to her lips, before he moved in, his lips pressing against hers for the second time that night.

Tyler's hand moved to her waist, rolling on top of her, body pressed into hers. His hand slipped under his flannel, fingers grazing her stomach. She sucked in a breath, her hands looping around his neck, fingers finding homage in his hair.

Tyler moved away from her lips, trailing kisses down her jaw and towards her neck, biting and sucking on the skin where her neck met her shoulder. Her neck tilted away, giving him more space to work as she caved in to him.

“What do you want, Sugar.” He mumbled against her skin. Her legs spread for him, allowing him to move his hips between her legs. Tyler’s lips grazed her shoulder softly, before he pulled back and looked her in her face. She let out a groan, giving in to him.

“I owe you a ride don’t I?” She asked. Tyler smirked, the image of her wearing his cowboy hat ingrained in his mind.

“Atta girl.” Tyler flipped them over so that he was on his back and she straddled him. Her hands settled on his chest, her hands moving up and down his skin, taking in the feeling of him beneath her.

“I just ask for one thing, Tyler.” She said, Looking down at him, feeling vulnerable, in that moment.

“For you? Anything.” He said.

“No one night flings.”

“No. I'm afraid, after tonight darlin’, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

—----

Y/N stepped out of her motel room, Tyler holding the door open for her before following her out. The two walk side by side, walking towards the stairs that would take them to the ground level. Everyone down below watched as they talked and exchanged laughs, only one of the groups finding solace in the evolution of the two’s relationship.

Their shoulders brushed together and Tyler’s hat was now back upon his head, looking down at Y/N as she spoke.

“I remember the bet from the bar last night. About the winner of the pool game. I am almost certain that you let me win.” She claimed, turning her head to look at him, a smirk on her face, one in which he had returned.

“Not sure I know what you are talking about, Sugar. That’s quite an accusation. But a deal is a deal. You get to choose who goes to what storm.” Tyler stopped her, pinning her to the railing of the second floor.

“Follow us.” Tyler stared at her.

“That’s not what I meant sweetheart.”

“I know. But it’s what I want.” She said. He stared at her for several moments longer before finally nodding.

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” His eyes moved past her and landed on the StormPar crew, who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the two. Two of his fingers slipped through a belt loop, pulling her towards him. He dipped his head down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, grinning when they heard the Tornado Wranglers hootin and hollering.

“Still puttin a show on for them?” Y/N laughed against his lips once they pulled away.

“Using your words darlin’.” Tyler pulled away, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. His hand moved from her belt loop and to her waist. “It’s fun riling them up.” He grinned at her, before it turned into a soft smile. “You bought coffee yesterday. I’ll run across the street and get it this time.”

Y/N smiled up at him, a genuine smile, one that lacked mischievous and snark.

“Could get used to that smile of yours.” He murmured softly, taking all of her in.

“You better.” Her hands came up to rest on his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, fingers weaving into his hair as he pulled her against him.

“I don’t know if I can ever get used to kissing these lips of yours though. Each one is its own amazing experience.” Y/N let out a full belly laugh, Tyler pulling away to grin at her.

“Whatever, cowboy.You mentioned a cup of coffee?”

“On it.” He smirked at her and tipped his hat, making his way down the stairs. Y/N watched him go and watched as he interacted with his group, promising them all coffee on him as he walked off. StormPar glared at him as he passed them, politely tipping his hat in their direction.

Y/N finally made her way down the stairs, smiling at Tyler’s group as she walked past them, giving them all a good morning as she walked over to the StormPar vehicles. She held their gazes as they looked at her, most of them giving her a cold shoulder as she attempted to help them get ready for the day.

She tried offering input on weather conditions for each storm and would be better when compared to another. No one wanted to listen. Y/N tried offering help in getting technology and systems ready for the trip, but she was ignored.

“Don’t need to go another round with him?” Someone asked, shouldering past her. Her eyes watched them retreat, and when she turned to look at Javi, he couldn't even meet her gaze. Her throat closed up, and she moved to Lion, climbing into the back seat. Y/N stared at the back of the front passenger seat, the silence in the truck becoming suffocating.

“Owens hasn’t tainted you enough yet? Figured you’d be attached to him like a lovesick puppy after last night.” Scott’s voice reached her ears through the lowered window. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat, trying to drown out the voices outside of the vehicle. Tyler and his group weren't terrible. They were competition though, and apparently it was frowned upon to be fraternizing with them.

Then she decided to make a rash decision, climbing out of the truck and making her way over to the other wrangler’s. Her feet crunched against the gravel on the ground, aware of the eye on her back as she held her head high, her sight focused on Boone, Lilly, and the others, who had all stopped what they were doing to watch her.

“Y/N. Tyler isn’t back with the coffees yet.” Lilly spoke up, catching her attention.

“I figured. I just…I was wondering if you guys would like a tag along.”

“You can have shotgun.” Boone told her. With that being said, Y/N sat with them, waiting for Tyler to return. She shared some laughs with them, in a much better mood than she was when she had walked over. Y/N mainly had taken the opportunity to get to know the group better, learning things that she never had the chance to learn previously.

It wasn’t much longer before Tyler had arrived back to them, his eyes catching the gaze of Y/N. His face turned to StormPar briefly before he finished handing out the coffees to everyone who had wanted one, the last one going to Y/N.

“What’s the issue?” He asked. “Everything okay?” Her gaze moved to the StormPar crew, before back to him. She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand what she was trying to tell him. He stepped closer to where she sat on the tailgate of his truck, hands coming to rest on her thighs, his cup of coffee abandoned next to her.

“Let them stew in it. We aren't breaking the law or anything. They are just a bunch of lonely pansies with nothing else to do.” He said, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Understood?”

She laughed softly at his words and nodded.

“Understood.”

“Good. Now get your pretty ass up in that shotgun seat.” He helped her down from the tailgate and the two walked over to the passenger side. Tyler opened The door for her, a soft kiss landing on her temple as reassurance for the day, and landed a smack to her ass.

Y/N turned around, seeing him leaning against the open window, a cheeky grin on his face. It was infectious, and she couldn't help the smile she gave back to him.

Her smile faltered slightly, seeing Javi, Kate and Scott staring at them. Tyler turned his head, catching sight if the three and stared for a few seconds before he turned back to her.

“I get Rivera and Carter are your friends, but changes have to be made if they won't.” Y/N nodded as she looked at him.

“I'll talk to them tomorrow. See if we can reach common ground.” Tyler watched as she pulled her phone out, sending Javi a text message stating that, Just telling him he wasn't giving up on StormPar just yet.

“Y'know Sugar. StormPar isn't what you think they are.” Y/n turned her to look at him after pressing send.

“What d'you mean?”

“They feed off the weak. Talking to the victims like they do? The ones that lose their house and everything inside? They are moving in to buy from the victim and turn it around for their own gain.”

“And what are you trying to telling me to do?” She asked quietly. Y/N was surprised when she didn't feel shocked about the revelation. Watching interactions in destroyed towns between StormPar and victims had always left a sour taste in her mouth.

“Sweetheart, I'm not trying to tell you what you should do. You’re smart. I mean, you’re giving me a chance.” He grinned again at her and Y/N smiled, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to push him away. Tyler only captured that hand in his own, thumbs running along her knuckles.

“What about you and your shirts?” She asked.

“All proceeds from the shirts go to buying food for those who need it after a disaster like an EF5. Yea, it's a little untasteful to sell some in the towns, but we don't keep any of it.” Tyler explained.W"its the difference between us and StormPar. We are in it for the communities. StormPar is in for themselves.” Y/N stared at him in thought, taking it all in. She has seen Lilly, Ben, when he wasn't taking photos, and some of the others passing food out to The people of the damaged communities. It was slowly starting to make sense to her. She turned her head to look back at Tyler, seeing him still staring at her, head tilted slightly.

“Kiss me?” It came out as more of a question than a demand.

“Yes ma'am.” He tipped his head forward, tip of his stetson tilting up slightly as it brushed against her head. Boone made fake gagging noises in the back as Ben climbed in next to him.

Y/N smiled into the kiss, amused at Boone's childish antics. The kiss was gentle and soft, full of promise.

When the two pulled away, Tyler pressed a few more chaste kisses to her lips, before giving her a knee weakening smirk and walked around to get into the driver seat.

“Alright ladies and gentleman. We have a storm to chase.”

—---

Y/N looked over to where Tyler was, currently helping a family find their dog. She watched as he showed genuine concern, reassuring the family, before her head moved to where some of his group members sold shirts and passed out food and water to those who needed it.

They were truly the light at the end of the tunnel, while StormPar seemed to be the preceding darkness, back behind them.

“Y/N!”

Many heads turned at the mention of her name, mostly from the Wranglers as she stopped and watched as Javi ran up to her.

“What's going on?” He asked, coming to a stop in front her.

Tyler paused his search for the dog, watching the two, although he couldn't hear what was being said. His eyes were focused on Y/N as she spoke with her boss.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Riding with the Tornado Wranglers? Of all people?” He asked. as Y/N watched him, she was almost certain he wanted to say something about Tyler, but had held his tongue.

“I obviously didn't feel welcomed with you guys earlier. And Tyler and his crew have been nothing other than welcoming.” Again. He looked like he wanted to say something but bit it back.

“They are only in this all for themselves. I mean, they sell shirts with Owens face on them, for fucks sake.”

“It's for a better cause than StormPar.” She snapped. “Really? Preying off the families that just lost their homes and everything else they own? buying properties for a reasonable margin and then turning it all around to sell for more for your own gain?”

“We are helping these people.”

“Bullshit. Tyler and his crew have a larger foot in the door helping these people. Using proceeds to buy food and water for those that need while you do nothing of the sort.”

“Smart talk coming from the person who killed three of our friends.” Y/N stopped, feeling like she had been slapped across the face. Even Javi released the damage of his words. She took a step back as her reached for her.

“Y/N, I didn't-”

“No.” her shaky voice cut him off as she turned to walk away.

“Y/N. I'm sorry, just please. Let's talk about this.” His voice fading as her ears started pounding, her eyes moving frantically in front of her before catching sight of Tyler. He stood in the middle of a bunch of rubble, his eyes trained solely on her, having watched the conversation turned into an argument. She swallowed thickly, before turning away and running over to Lion, climbing in. The truck roared to life and she spun tires as she left, leaving everyone in the rear view mirror.

—---

Y/N found refuge in her parents barn, now belonging to her brother and his family. All of her storm equipment and tests and everything else in between still existed her, behind closed doors and semi forgotten. Many pieces collected dust, but the most well loved was her little alcove in the back corner.

A small projector lit up the room, casting a video of a Tornado, sound and everything included around the room. She sat in a bean bag, knees pulled to her chest, tears pricking the corner of her eyes threatening to fall as they were trained on the force of nature. When light flooded the small room, she didn’t move.

Silence filled the air between who stood there watching her and Y/N.

“You’re brother said I’d find you here.” her gaze snapped to Tyler’s, not expecting to see them there.

“Tyler, I’m so-” She was cut off. Y/N wanted to apologize for leaving him, but he held up his hand, silencing her. He moved into the small room, squatting down in front of her. Her eyes followed him, the tears finally falling.

“I had always thought your name sounded familiar. Dexter was the one to piece it all together.” He went silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry to hear about your friends. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“You never expected it to end the way it did.” Tyler brought a hand up to rest on her leg, providing reassurance.

“They didn't have to die.” She whispered.

“No, they didn't. And it sucks. I know it does sweetheart. But it's not your fault. and Rivera had no right to throw it in your face.” He reassured Her. His hands came to rest on her cheeks. “Are you listening to me?” He asked. Y/N nodded, causing him to give her a soft smile. “Good. Now come out and get some food. Your brother said they haven't seen a lot of you in the last few days, and his wife just made a killer feast.” Y/N chuckled at his last sentence, before she stood up, Tyler doing the same. He leaned down and pressed a long Kiss to her lips, the two of them melting into it.

“I'm sorry for leaving and not saying anything.” Y/N mumbled against his lips after They pulled away.

“It's okay Sugar.” He spoke with the same soft tone as her, his hands coming up to wrap around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

Y/N had fallen further in love with Tyler twice that night. The first one being that exact moment, understanding and caring for her in a way no one else but her brother and his wife did.

The second moment was watching as Tyler interacted with her niece and nephew as they all watched a movie. Her niece sat in his lap, her nephew sitting on the couch next to him as he told them stories about storm chasing, getting vocal and overdramatic to add excitement for the two young children.

A smile sat on her face, widening further as she locked eyes with Tyler during one part of his current story. A feeling that no words could have described passed between the two, knowing instantly that no matter what, they were both in it for the long ride.

And as everyone turned in for the night, and Tyler had beaten Y/N to bed, he had his arms open and already waiting for her. She crawled into them, burying her face into his chest as he buried his face into her neck, hands resting on her lower back and tangled into her hair.

Her arms moved to wrap around his torso, fingers drawing shapes into his back.

“Thank you, cowboy.”

“Anything for you, Sugar.” He mumbled against her skin, moving to press a kiss to her temple before the two of them fell asleep.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

______________________________________________________________

The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

[ukulelekatie]

when I was 4, I broke my leg. if you had asked little baby 4 year old me what the worst part of having a broken leg was, I wouldn’t have mentioned the pain, the the cast, or not being able to get around independently. my biggest concern at the time was that I would be missing 10 weeks of dance class and wouldn’t be able to receive a perfect attendance award at my recital that year.

anyway, the whole reason I’m thinking about this right now is because it just goes to show how early on we incentivize perfect attendance and how this feeds into feeling pressured to work when we’re sick or injured. (and that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the many people who are forced to work when sick or injured, which is evil.) now that I’m an adult, I’m still constantly having to unlearn that and remind myself to rest when I don’t feel well. up until a few years ago, I was the kind of person who would show up to class or work with a cold because it was “just a cold” until the pandemic caused me to re-evaluate the importance of staying home and resting when sick. and this should have been obvious already, but as a result I’ve been learning that resting actually makes me feel better faster than if I had just powered through it.

yesterday morning I woke up with a migraine, and after lots of hemming and hawing (and seeking some validation from trusted friends that it was the right decision), I decided to take a sick day even though it was only a “minor” one and I had worked through many like it before. by early afternoon it was almost completely gone, and I started feeling guilty and worrying that I wasted a whole sick day when I was only sick for a few hours. but then I realized that getting to take some time to lie down with my migraine cap on is probably why it went away so much faster than on the days where I stare at a computer screen for 8 hours in a row. shocking, I know.

so anyway, if you’re reading this, you deserve to rest. yes, even if it’s “not that bad”. even if you can still power through it. your body and mind will thank you later.

[werewolfsister]

PSA: COMIC DRAMA

I've been slowly receiving critical, entitled, and passive-aggressive messages about the way I've been writing my comic! I wanted to address this behavior.

That being said, the majority of my readers have been nothing but positive! And when they spot a problem, they're kind about it. I really appreciate this; thank you to those who choose to be civil.

I'm making this post to address some issues, complaints, and questions I've seen. Let's take a look & see what we can discuss!

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT!

🦈-> I want you to use my character in your comic, but you're not using them! Sometimes, a character doesn't quite fit my vision for the comic-- even when they're designs that I love! I really do try to use as many people's characters as possible. I think it adds to the world & makes the comic feel more full of life! But I can't accommodate everyone's desires.

🐟->You're using my character in your comic, but you're not giving them enough screen time! Similar to the above issue, sometimes I don't think focusing on a particular character for any longer will serve the story well. Ultimately, I have final say on what happens in the comic. My advice is, if you feel your character isn't appearing enough, make your own content! Draw, write, craft, etc like I mention farther down below!

🐠->You said you were going to use my diplomat/character(s), but you only drew them in 1-2 panels. Why aren't you using them more? Similar to the points above! I was never planning on going into a TON of depth with the diplomats-- the comic focus also drastically changed, as I mention below.

🐡->You're using characters in the story that I don't like! Ahh that is too bad, but! In that case, you can always take a break from the comic & come back later to check if the characters are no longer being used, or maybe stop reading the comic altogether. However! If you have concerns with how the character is portrayed because of legitimate sexual/violence/illicit/illegal issues, then that's another issue entirely and you should let me know.

🪼->I thought this story was about rescuing Kenne, but now she's not even in the comic! I don't like the way this story is going! This is a big issue some people are having and I completely understand. There's been a lot of things going on behind the scenes that I haven't explained, which must be generating a lot of confusion. Originally, @kenneduck and I were collaborating closely on this comic. Recently, the dynamic shifted, and we're now working on the comic separately. @kenneduck is now responsible for the part of the story that heavily features her characters, i.e. Princess Kenne's perspective of the rescue, her rescue effort, and what's happening in the Domain of the Luminous trench. I am now working on a different angle of the story-- the diplomatic efforts of Zora's Domain in their attempt to negotiate for Princess Kenne's return. So, the story is still the same... the focuses have just changed and split!

🦑->You reblogged my fan art and/or linked it in your comic directory-- does that make my content canon? Oooh, this is actually kind of a tough one! Normally, if something is in the comic directory, I consider it to be canon to the story. So, if you've drawn something, and I add it to my directory for a comic chapter, I'll consider it to have happened in real time. THERE'S AN EXCEPTION! And it may be confusing, so I'm genuinely sorry! If you have drawn something where you are heavily modifying someone else's character--this means cosmetic changes, giving the character children/spouses/family, killing the character, altering their personality-- WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION, then I cannot accept that as canon. It's still fantastic that you drew/wrote/created something and I will probably put it in the MISCELLANEOUS section of the comic directory. I'VE MADE MISTAKES ON THIS! So, I've since updated the directory. And, sorry for all confusion on this issue! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐳->I want to collaborate with you on your comic, can I do that? That's awesome! Maybe in the future, but right now I'm not taking on any more partners. Maybe you can make your own separate additions, with your character(s) like I mention below!

🐙>I want to make fan art, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it. This was originally meant to be a very interactive comic, so draw/write/create away!!!

🦀->I want to draw my character(s) doing something in the world of your comic, can I do that? You absolutely can. Go for it! Like I mentioned above, however, I may or may not deem it canon to the events of the comic. But even if I don't, I'll add it to the MISCELLANEOUS section of my comic directory! ...as long as you don't alterate someone's character without permission! If you've made something & intended it to be canon, let's talk about it!

🐬->I want to make a character based on a Domain you created/idea you drew/etc., can I do that? Of course! Go for it. I love seeing what people make!

I know this is a lot of text, but it's better to be comprehensive! Please, keep in mind, I'm just one hobby artist making a comic for fun, with the spirit of interactivity and collaboration in mind. But it's impossible to keep that spirit going when people feel entitled and demand things of me that I am not obligated to give.

I queue out my pages several weeks in advance with the help of the people I'm working with, so what you see in the comic is the product of a lot of thought and work. You're getting something for free here, y'all. It ain't so serious!!!!

Anyways, thanks for reading this! And for reading the comic! Peace out ✌️

[yuurivoice]

Hi Yuuri I just wanted to say I miss Howell. That’s all I hope you have a good day😊

I do too! There's still a lot about him I want to know and figure out. I was able to delve into him a bit more (and get some much needed closure) with some friends. I don't think he's really a character that I want to do various iterations of in different worlds and campaigns, because it's that specific story of his that I love. If it's removed from that world and story, I'd rather have another shot at a new character.

I was able to salvage a couple of relationships out of the rubble from the entire ordeal surrounding TnD, and I've got no beef with anyone who wasn't literal human trash, so Howell's place in my heart is unscathed in terms of being attached to a really shitty time and situation.

Reflecting on those days, that shit was a nightmare scenario. Obviously my own emotional turmoil pales in comparison to the literal criminal and victim in our midst, don't get that twisted because those most directly impacted by one asshole's actions should be the primary concern. It is a hell of a pill to swallow having something that dear to you go up in flames in such a public and grotesque way.

I don't blame anyone who feels any type of way about how it was handled and the aftermath of it. The truth of it all is, one person's really fucked up actions had widespread effects on a lot of people. The radius of that bomb was no joke.

Howell is very dear to me, and those Sundays were genuinely the favorite day of the week for me over that time. The backlash, anger, resentment, and then emptiness of it all really took its toll, as I'm sure it did on everyone caught in the blast zone.

The bad guy got got in the end, and I'm thankful for the folks who made sure that happened.

That year as a whole was really difficult. That wasn't the only heavy thing I had to work through that year. There was a stretch of six months that were probably the worst of my adult life in terms of interpersonal turmoil. The universe really took a bat to my kneecaps.

Saying ALLLLLLLL of that to say, if I had lost my love for Howell, it would have taken a significant toll on me creatively. I would not so freely share the parts of myself it takes to create the stories and characters I do now. I can pretty confidently say that something like Echoes or Shattered would never happen.

I struggled mightily with BitterSweet Chapter 3 for that reason. It was hard to want to carve out pieces of myself to share with the world, and certainly very difficult to work with anyone else out of fear that their bad actions could rob me of my passion even more.

But I learned a lot, and over that time I also think I was able to show my community how serious situations get handled while I'm at the helm. I hate that me and the team have been on the frontlines of a few really serious community PR nightmares, but I do think we've been able to exhibit an ability to treat things with maturity, respect, and direct action.

So Howell means a lot to me. We've been on two journeys, one fictional, and one real...and boy we've gotten our asses kicked more than a few times.

There is a chance, albeit a small one, that there's a DnD story to be told with Howell and some friends, for the world to partake in. Don't know if it'll happen, but the chances aren't 0%...

[lemon-russ]

Your lion fic was beautiful. May I request more? Anything will do really. But here are my requests.

Lion angrily jerking it after experiencing one (1) emotion

Lion aggressively cuddling you. You're not hurt or sick or have lost feeling in your lower body temporarily, he just wants to be close to you. And be an ass about it.

You wear his legion colours/symbols and he gets really horny.

40k Lion reminiscing about an old lover from 30k (using that term loosely, they were probably just fuck buddies) and maybe they meet again in 40k. Let's say a perpetual reader.

Anyway these are just my brainworms. Feel free to ignore.

And yes, I am aware I have a thing for stoic men losing it and being absolute freaks. I am currently in search for a good therapist.

Sorry for the delay, but I feel adjacent to a human today, so I finally finished this! Also the way you presented it made me snort laugh haha, the kind message into "angrily jerking it" lmfao

Anyway here's The Lion straight jorkin' it (I like all your suggestions and might come back to the colors one especially!)

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk

Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers!

Lion El'Jonson X Fem!Reader

CW: Lion straight up jorkin' it. That's all.

Stupid woman, Lion thought, slamming his chamber doors closed.

He started angrily undoing the belt of his tunic as he marched to his bed, fingers frustratingly fumbling the latch in a hurry.

Stupid, infuriating woman.

Guilliman had sent a representative to give The Lion updates about some missions the Ultramarines had been on, just the average doldrum of war talk. But the representative he sent was his little Ambassador pet.

“My Lord?” You had said, looking up at him between explaining supply lines, “You seem very tired. Did you not rest well?”

He’d been shocked by the simple question. He had indeed been without a proper rest for a bit too long. But, no one ever asked such things about him. He was a god to most baselines, infallible and untiring, beyond mortal needs. But you spent a majority of your time around his brother, so of course you could read him better than a random serf could. And you’d been… concerned. For him.

“Wh- I…” he had stuttered, caught off guard. That annoyed him. Being flustered by a tiny baseline woman’s concern for him annoyed him. The pang of unnameable emotion that shot through him annoyed him. The sudden pulse of pressure below his stomach, especially annoyed him.

“Don’t be daft woman-” he had spat back. You’d just smiled softly at the verbal attack, soft eyes scanning his face, studying the circles forming under his eyes. Then for some warp damned reason, you had gone and made him a cup of recaff. You placed it in front of the flabbergasted Primarch and returned to explaining your papers like nothing had passed.

Stupid woman.

The minute you’d given him a quick aquillan salute and been on your way out the door, He had turned on his heel and stormed off to his quarters, leaving confused serfs in his wake as he pushed them aside, some even falling to the floor. “No one disturb me.” He had growled, stalling their pursuit of him.

He finally pulled his pants down, holding his tunic aside as he knelt on his bed. That feeling that you had invoked in him had shot right between his legs. The whole rest of the meeting, he was struggling to focus on anything but how hard you had made him.

He grasped himself, groaning at the friction at last as he stroked. Your image assaulted his mind. You leaning over the table just enough that he could see down the far too loose tunic dress you wore. He growled remembering that glimpse of your breasts, infuriatingly framed in ultramarine blue. It should have been HIS colors.

He grasped himself tighter as he assailed his aching cock, falling back on his pillows. It should be Dark Angels green you were in. No- it should be nothing at all. You should be naked in his bed. You should be panting in his lap-

His hips bucked himself fruitlessly into his hand at the image. Your sweet face, flush and gasping as you rode him. Did you look at Guilliman the way you’d looked up at him? Did you fetch him drinks when you noticed he was worn? The thought enraged The Lion. How dare you go back to the Macragge’s Honour, back to anywhere but his bed.

He gripped the sheets, yanking at his tunic as he frustratedly picked up speed, ignoring the slight soreness from his calloused palm attacking his cock without anything to help the friction. It wouldn’t be an issue if it was you on him instead. He bet you were plenty slick, and tight-

He felt his balls start to tighten, drawing in a hissing, ragged gasp through grit teeth. His bed creaked with the cadence of his hips jerking up into his fist. You should be here. You should be wrapped around him, holding on for your life as he used you like a cocksleeve- he imagined your small hands splayed over his stomach for balance, trying desperately to hold yourself down against his bouncing.

He fisted his cock faster, frustrated by the sub-par sensation of his own rough skin, barely slicked with his pre-cum as he drove himself forcefully toward an orgasm. He was frustrated he’d immediately given in to such base instincts. He was Frustrated you could drive him to this with one little question, with one sweet look.

His mind flooded with the image of you giving him that little smile, eyes soft and concerned in defiance of his sharp words-

He let out a snarl as the heat in him snapped, shooting his spend over his stomach in jerking pulses. A few more hard pumps on his cock drained him, shuddering and mind blank, before he collapsed back on the bed, legs shaking and ragged gasps wracking his lungs.

He lay panting, covered in his own seed, twitching his hips up in the aftershocks. This was your fault. You stupid, damnable woman.

He groaned and let his arm fall to his side as the sensations eased from his need-drunk mind.

He had a very stern demand to draft. If his brother wanted him to keep playing nice- which he had been, he’d been very cooperative he thought, he earned some credit- If Guilliman wanted Lion to keep his word about their plans and supplies and defenses-

Then the cost was merely one insignificant little diplomat woman.

[ghostradiodylan]

Probably a lukewarm take, but other than the (lack of an) ending, the Laura and Ryan scenes are some of the worst written and conceived parts of The Quarry.

And this is completely separate from whether Ryan is interested in Dylan (he is, but that's another post and not important to this rant) or Kaitlyn; even if Ryan had no other potential relationships in the game, even if Laura wasn't practically married to Max, wearing his ring around her neck the entire time they're talking, it still would feel flat to me because nothing about it is earned.

Laura is on a killing spree with the single-minded goal of saving Max. She genuinely believes the only way to do that is to kill Chris Hackett. Even if you've made her argue with Max to the extent that they can, they're still a strong unit when she goes out to solve this werewolf thing once and for all. Even if you don't believe in love think their relationship would survive all this trauma, she deeply believes she owes it to him to rescue him, that is her entire guiding ethos during the game.

Ryan is going with her to try to keep that from happening because Chris has been his friend and mentor for years. We know Ryan has an absent mother, unmentioned father, and a potentially turbulent family life, and he's been coming to HQSC for so long that it feels like home to him, that Chris and his kids feel like family. Laura has already killed Kaylee. Even if Ryan completely bought into the werewolf thing by now, that would be a tough pill for him to swallow, given his reaction to her death.

Then, they fall in the titular Quarry and suddenly have the option to express a completely unearned sort of camaraderie with each other. Why is Laura asking Ryan about his love life in the first place? The question about him being single makes sense as a dig, but it doesn't make any sense for her to ask about him being a 'brooding and mysterious loner' because... she hasn't actually seen him do anything brooding or mysterious? How did she even get that impression? If Laura's got some kind of borderline psychic intuition then this is really the worst possible use of that ability--she should have foreseen her need to go to that motel and stay the fuck out of locked storm shelters instead.

It doesn't make a lick of sense for her to say that Kaitlyn looks up to him either. She hasn't seen that. Hell, we as players haven't even seen that! Kaitlyn seems generally tolerant of but unimpressed by Ryan. She has the option to be impatient with him multiple times and even get the chyron that she's ‘losing respect’ for him if he suggests she take the gun and go after Nick instead. This seems like an objectively good idea, since she's a much better shot than Ryan, a fact which the game keeps telling us despite refusing to give her a gun until the last possible second, though maybe the concern is that she'd have to drag Nick back to the campfire herself. (Honestly, I think Kaitlyn could do it, I think she's like a mighty ant who can lift many times her own weight, but that's not what this post is about.)

Ryan, for his part, shouldn't really be willing to talk about any of this with Laura either. He canonically doesn't even want to talk to his coworkers about his animation school decision (in the office scene with Dylan and at the campfire with Emma if you choose truth like a lunatic) and he's known them for at least two months, if not for years attending the same camp. But he met Laura a few hours ago and is suddenly willing to spill his guts about who he does or doesn't have a crush on and who does/doesn't have 'the hots' for him, despite the only experience they have together being her leaving his friend of several years dead facedown in a pool and expressing a strong desire to kill his father figure? I simply do not buy it.

I'm not sure if this was supposed to go along with the relationship system that they scrapped or what (there's not a single shred of Ryan and Laura stuff in the datamine that I've been able to find), but all it really serves to do is muddy the waters by trying to force some level of intimacy on Ryan and Laura before the big confrontation at the Hackett House. But that confrontation itself should have been the thing that forged that intimacy between them and allowed them to go on to fight Silas together.

Overall, I think it's a major sign that the back third of the game got a very rushed and, frankly, bad chop job (which we know is true) and that they struggled to tie the resulting loose threads off in a way that made any kind of narrative sense. It's a shame, because the writing in The Quarry is actually way better than most people give it credit for, it just wasn't allowed to pay off in a lot of ways that clearly were intended.

[charmac]

How are you feeling about S17? I'm getting reaaal worried that it's going to be terrible. No Glenn in the writers room? A crossover episode?? Rob's gradual transformation into pondslime??? Help

Pondslime 😭Lmfao

I'm feeling more than fine about 17, really truly. I don't think anyone should be worried at all.

I think sometimes my interactions with Glenn come off a little more serious or abrasive than they really happened in real life (because we have to shout due to how loud it is in the bars), and my immediate transcription is just to get people *information*, which really doesn't convey tone.

For example, reporting that Glenn said "you don't want to know" in response to me asking for any teasers (as to plots this season) was met with a lot of "oh so this season is gonna suck" on Twitter, and that could not be further than the truth (sorry to the people I split-react blocked for saying that lol). In hindsight I get the reaction, because written out it's a response that can be easily misinterpreted and reads as potentially concerning, but know that when Glenn said "you don't want to know" he looked like this:

And when I was genuinely just asking for script information (regarding writers of individual scripts after he mentioned they had broken already) and mentioned Nina (Inflates) and Ross (DTAMHD), he gushed about both of them and then said, transcribed word for word, "It's been a good room, I'll say this it's been a great room. It's been an all-star room, it's been...like, breaking the stories this year has been really fun. [Me: Yeah?] Yeah. [That's great, that is great to hear.] It's been really fun."

So the idea of "no Glenn in the writers room" is really much more akin to Season 16 than 13/14. He was there to break stories (meaning he was in the room when they were brainstorming plot ideas and when they settled on which plots would be turned into scripts) but Rob and Charlie are taking the brunt of writing their (RCG's) scripts because of Sirens. This is the same thing that happened with The Gang Goes Bowling. Glenn's name is on the script, but Rob and Charlie wrote the majority of it while Glenn was shooting Blackberry. (I remember originally being convinced it was a mistake Glenn was listed as a writer for Bowling, lmfao). And Glenn is definitely still contributing, will be on revisions for the non-RCG scripts, and will classically change or improv whatever he thinks is best for Dennis when he's on set (see: the Risk E. Rats script).

Also, I know the crossover is concerning to a lot of people just given the nature of it, but as of what we know right now it's only on Abbott, so it's really just as if this season's The Gang Cracks the Liberty Bell or The Janitor Always Mops Twice took place on a different show instead of ours...

I promise promise promise Glenn was clearly holding his tongue for good things coming up, and Friday night very much restored my confidence that Season 17 will be good. (But..if you don't think Glenn has good contributions to Sunny or understands the agenda, then sorry this response probably sucks lmfao)

[elysiaheaven]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 ����𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚, 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞-𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗸𝗮𝘀𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗮- нσηкαι ѕтαя яαιℓ 𝘅 𝗸𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗳.𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

words:3677

You entered the dreamscape after having a weird conversation with that blue-haired boy named Misha.

You were falling from the sky, your long white and purple hair flowing wildly in the wind as the stars glittered around you. The idea of becoming a shooting star seemed perfect—radiant, free, and mysterious. With a mischievous grin, you stretched your arms out, ready to blaze across the night sky, leaving a trail of light behind.

But as you soared downward, something caught your eye—a figure, no, two figures, below on the ground. A blonde man was walking with someone, his presence unmistakable even from such a height. Panic mixed with surprise as you realized your trajectory was heading straight for them.

"Ah! Look out!" you cried out, your voice cutting through the night as you tumbled uncontrollably.

Before you could even attempt to adjust your course, the inevitable happened. You crashed right into the blonde man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of limbs and confusion. The other person with him gasped, stepping back to avoid the chaotic collision.

When the dust settled, you found yourself sprawled on top of the blonde, your face inches from his. His eyes—magenta and cyan, with black slitted pupils—stared back at you, a mix of shock and something else flickering in their depths.

"Well, that wasn't the grand entrance I had planned," you muttered, half embarrassed and half amused.

He blinked, clearly trying to process what just happened. "You... fell from the sky?"

"Yep, like a shooting star! Except, you know, I missed the whole 'shooting' part." You grinned, not bothering to move from your current position.

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. "I should've placed a bet on when a star would land on me."

The other person, who had been silently watching, finally spoke up. "Are you both alright? and didn't you and I fell down too?" They seemed more concerned than amused by the situation.

You pushed yourself up, standing and offering a hand to the man you had just knocked over. "Sorry about that! Didn't mean to crash your night."

He took your hand, getting to his feet with surprising grace for someone who'd just had a surprise encounter with gravity. "No harm done. But maybe next time, give a little warning before you try to become a celestial body?"

You laughed, brushing off your clothes. "I'll keep that in mind. But hey, who knows? Maybe I'm the luck you needed tonight."

As the blonde man dusted himself off, you couldn't help but notice the other person—the one who had been walking with him—watching you with a cool, almost analytical expression. There was a distinct chill in his gaze, as if he was measuring you up and finding you lacking.

The blonde man, however, seemed more amused than anything. He flashed a charming smile, the kind that hinted at mischief, and offered his hand again, this time for a proper introduction.

"Name's Aventurine," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a playful lilt. "And you've already made quite the impression, crashing into me like that. I don't usually meet stars in such a... literal way."

You took his hand, trying to ignore how your face was probably giving away every bit of your embarrassment. "I'm, uh, just a bit clumsy, I guess," you replied, unable to keep from grinning like an idiot. "Nice to meet you, Aventurine."

The other man stepped forward, his demeanor contrasting sharply with Aventurine's warm friendliness. His pink eyes with that unusual yellow ring around the pupils regarded you with a distant coldness. He didn't bother extending a hand, his tone as frosty as his gaze when he finally spoke.

"Dr. Ratio," he introduced himself curtly, as if the formality was a mere obligation. "You should be more careful. Not everyone appreciates such... dramatic entrances."

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like a fool under his scrutinizing stare. "Yeah, I'll try to stick to less dangerous ways of saying hello next time."

Ratio's expression didn't soften in the slightest, and he seemed more interested in moving on from this encounter. "See that you do," he said, his tone clipped before turning his attention back to Aventurine. "We should continue. We have work to do."

Aventurine, however, didn't seem in any hurry to leave. In fact, his attention remained fixed on you, his interest evident as his smile widened. "Oh, come now, Ratio. Don't be so harsh. Our friend here just wanted to make an entrance. And what an entrance it was! Besides," he added, his voice lowering in a way that made your heart skip, "how often do we get to meet someone who literally fell out of the sky?"

You laughed, a bit too loud and a bit too nervous, rubbing the back of your head. "Well, I do try to be memorable."

Aventurine chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "That you are. And I'd love to hear more about how you ended up falling into our path. Perhaps over a drink? I think a story like yours deserves a proper setting."

You grinned back at him, feeling a mix of relief and excitement at his interest. "Sure! I mean, I could use a drink after all that. And who knows, maybe I'll get to hear some of your stories too."

Ratio rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the turn of events. "Aventurine, we're wasting time."

Aventurine waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, Ratio. Sometimes the best investments are made in the most unexpected encounters. You can go on ahead if you're in such a rush, but I think I'll stick around a bit longer."

Ratio's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't argue further. With a sharp nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with Aventurine.

As Ratio's figure disappeared into the distance, Aventurine turned back to you, his gaze sparkling with interest. "So, how about that drink."

You couldn't help but laugh, your earlier embarrassment fading under his playful attention. "Lead the way, Aventurine."

You and Aventurine made your way to a nearby café, he was in high spirits, clearly enjoying your company. The evening was turning out to be unexpectedly delightful, with the prospect of a few more stories and possibly a bit of mischief.

When you finally settled at a cozy table, Aventurine's charming demeanor took a playful turn. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know," he said with a grin, "I've been thinking. Since you're an Astral Express member and I'm a bit of an... extravagant spender, how about we join tabs? I'd hate to see you go hungry while we're having such a delightful time."

You raised an eyebrow, the offer sounding a bit too convenient for someone so keen on making an impression. "Nice try, but I think I'll pass. I prefer to keep things straightforward."

Aventurine's smile didn't waver. "Fair enough. But don't think I'm going to let you go without at least treating you to something. Consider it a small token of appreciation for making my night so memorable."

You were about to protest when he waved down a waiter and began ordering a seemingly endless array of dishes. It was a feast fit for royalty, with everything from exotic appetizers to decadent desserts. You watched in awe as the table filled up with an impressive spread, your earlier reservations melting away in the face of such abundance.

As you dug into the food, your initial hesitation faded. Aventurine's presence was both engaging and amusing, and the food was absolutely delicious. You couldn't help but smile as you indulged in the feast, every bite more satisfying than the last.

At one point, as you were savoring a particularly delectable pastry, your device buzzed with a new message. You glanced at it, only to find a text from someone named "Anonymous":

You're an idiot. Aventurine's just a two-faced fool. Don't get used by someone like him.

Your smile faltered, and you glanced up at Aventurine, who was currently savoring a dish with unabashed enjoyment. You hesitated, then decided to bring up the message.

"Hey, Aventurine, I just got a message saying you're a two-faced fool and that I shouldn't get used by you. What's that all about?"

Aventurine paused mid-bite, a hint of surprise crossing his face before he broke into a hearty laugh. "Ah, Ratio's little gift to you, I see."

You blinked in confusion. "Ratio?"

"Yes, Ratio," Aventurine confirmed, still chuckling. "He has a habit of being overly critical of me. The truth is, he's just envious of the way I manage to get by with a bit of flair and a lot of charm."

You frowned, feeling a bit uneasy. "So, is there any truth to what they said?"

Aventurine waved a dismissive hand, his grin reassuring. "Oh, Ratio's right about one thing—I'm certainly not without my flaws. But I assure you, I'm not trying to deceive you or use you. I genuinely enjoy your company, and tonight has been quite fun."

You studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. The way he was looking at you, with that playful glint in his eyes and the way he had been treating you throughout the evening, made it hard to believe he had any malicious intent.

You hesitated, the earlier message from Ratio still lingering in your mind. The food was incredible, and Aventurine's company was undeniably charming, but something about the situation didn't sit right with you.

You swallowed your last bite and looked at him, the warmth in your smile fading. "Actually, Aventurine... I think partnering up might be a bad idea. I'm all for having fun, but I'd rather keep things simple. Maybe we should just enjoy the meal and call it a night."

Aventurine's grin didn't waver, but you noticed a flicker of something else in his eyes—something calculating. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table as if considering your words carefully.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, his tone still light but with an undercurrent that made you uneasy.

You nodded, trying to maintain your resolve. "Yeah, I think it's for the best. I don't want to complicate things."

He stood up slowly, his movements smooth and deliberate as he walked around the table toward you. There was a newfound intensity in his gaze, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he closed the distance between you. In his hand, he held a small chip, which he began to twirl between his fingers, the metallic surface catching the light in a way that seemed almost hypnotic.

Aventurine leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke directly into your ear. "You know," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "I happen to know a lot of things—secrets, if you will. Secrets about everyone on the Astral Express. Things that could make life very difficult for a lot of people."

You stiffened, the implications of his words sending a wave of dread through you. "What are you saying, Aventurine?"

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his grin now sharper, more dangerous. "I'm saying that if you don't cooperate with me, I might just reveal those secrets. I'm sure you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, we've had such a lovely evening so far... it'd be a shame to end it on a sour note."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his threat pressing down on you. "Are you blackmailing me?"

He tilted his head, his smile never fading. "Blackmail is such an ugly word. Think of it as... a persuasive offer. One you can't refuse."

Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Aventurine had gone from charming to menacing in a heartbeat, and now you were caught in his web, with no clear way to escape.

Just as Aventurine's words hung in the air, the tension thickening, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head, relief flooding through you as a figure emerged from the crowd. It was Sunday, his presence commanding and serene, his golden irises locking onto you with a calm intensity.

"Is there a problem here?" Sunday asked, his voice gentle yet carrying a weight that made it clear he wasn't to be trifled with.

Aventurine's smile didn't falter, but you noticed the slight tightening of his grip on the chip in his hand. "No problem at all," he said smoothly. "I was just having a friendly chat with my lovely companion here. We were just about to discuss some... personal matters."

Sunday's gaze flicked between you and Aventurine, taking in the situation with a sharp, discerning look. "It seems Mr. Aventurine is a very busy man. Perhaps it would be better if I accompanied you for the rest of the evening. I wouldn't want to impose on your time, Mr. Aventurine."

Aventurine chuckled, though there was a dangerous edge to it now. He stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Sunday. "I'm sure you wouldn't, but the thing is, *she* was with me first. Besides, we were having a good time, weren't we?" He turned his gaze to you, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Why don't you make the choice? Who would you rather spend your evening with?"

Your heart raced as both men looked at you, each with a different intensity. Sunday's calm and protective demeanor was a stark contrast to Aventurine's charming yet menacing presence. You hesitated, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

Sunday remained composed, but you could see the subtle tension in his posture as he awaited your decision. Aventurine, on the other hand, seemed almost eager, as if he relished the game he was playing.

Finally, you took a deep breath and looked at both of them, trying to steady your nerves. "I think..." You glanced at Sunday, then back at Aventurine, who was still holding that chip, the unspoken threat lingering in the air. "Maybe it's better if I—"

Before you could finish, Aventurine leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. "Remember what I said. Think carefully, because once you make your choice, there's no going back."

The subtle menace in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes darted to Sunday, whose gaze softened, silently offering you reassurance.

You steeled yourself, your decision solidifying in your mind. 

Choosing Aventurine

You hesitated for just a moment, but the allure of Aventurine's charm was too strong to resist. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in even as the warning bells rang in the back of your mind. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and placed your hand in his. Aventurine's grin widened, a mix of satisfaction and something darker playing across his face as he firmly pulled you closer to him.

"Well, then, I guess that settles it," Aventurine said with a smug edge to his voice, not even sparing Sunday a second glance as he started to walk away, guiding you through the bustling streets. You turned back, feeling a pang of guilt as you met Sunday's calm, understanding gaze. You mouthed a quick "sorry" to him, hoping he would understand.

Sunday's expression remained unchanged, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe just concern. He nodded slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your choice, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had made a mistake.

As Aventurine led you away, his hand warm and firm around yours, he glanced down at you, his tone light and teasing. "Looks like you made the right choice. We'll have plenty of fun tonight, trust me."

As you walked hand-in-hand with Aventurine, the unease from your decision gnawed at you. His grip was firm, almost too tight, and the playful charm he had shown earlier now felt suffocating. You mustered the courage to pull your hand back, trying to create some distance.

"Let go," you demanded, your voice more assertive than you felt.

Aventurine didn't stop walking, nor did he loosen his hold. Instead, he looked down at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His magenta and cyan eyes seemed to pierce right through you, all traces of his earlier playfulness gone. "Shut up for a while," he said, his tone cold and commanding, sending a chill down your spine.

Before you could react, he suddenly pulled you into a dark corner, pressing you against the wall. You were about to protest when his hand flew up to cover your mouth, silencing you. His eyes weren't on you anymore; they were focused on something—or someone—else. You followed his gaze and saw Sunday, but something was wrong.

Sunday's form shimmered, and in the blink of an eye, he changed. The dignified man you knew had transformed into a girl with short, black hair tipped in red, her clothing a striking crimson. She exuded a dangerous aura, her eyes sharp and calculating as she scanned the area.

Your eyes widened in shock, and a scream began to rise in your throat. Before you could make a sound, Aventurine's hand clamped down over your mouth, muffling any noise you might have made. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Don't. She's a Masked Fool."

You froze, the words sinking in. The Masked Fools were notorious, and you knew enough to understand that getting their attention was a death sentence. You stared at the girl who had once been Sunday, your heart hammering in your chest.

Aventurine's grip on you tightened, his eyes never leaving the girl as she moved further away, her presence still menacing even from a distance. When she finally disappeared into the crowd, he slowly released his hold on your mouth but kept you pinned against the wall.

"Stay quiet and stay with me," Aventurine whispered, his voice a mix of warning and something else, something almost protective. "You have no idea what you just got yourself into."

You nodded, too stunned to speak, the reality of the situation crashing down on you. Aventurine might be dangerous, but at that moment, he was the only thing standing between you and something far worse.

Kaslana out!

[winxanity-ii]

IT'S ME, MARIO!

ship: itadori x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 1.7k a/n: idc idc idc, yuji would definetly make a fool of himself if he knew you were nervous

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Since living on campus, you'd adjusted to being on your own. It had been… interesting, to say the least.

Moving from the comfort of your hometown, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you, to a sprawling university was like stepping into another world.

But you'd managed. Slowly but surely, you'd found your rhythm.

You'd been pushing yourself to attend those countless events and programs that the campus threw at you, dipping your toes into the waters of socializing at your own pace.

Sometimes, it was easier to just be a face in the crowd, observing from the sidelines, taking mental notes of how people interacted, what made them tick.

You'd practiced small talk like it was an art form—commenting on the weather, complimenting someone’s shirt, asking what their major was—and for the most part, you'd gotten better at it.

It was a slow process, but you were learning to navigate the chaotic dance of college life.

Currently, you were sitting in your honors open communication class, trying to remember how to breathe without making it seem like you were hyperventilating.

The classroom, with its cozy size of about ten people, should have felt intimate, manageable. But instead, it felt like a pressure cooker. Every word, every glance, every single goddamn breath felt magnified.

You were staring blankly at the front of the room as your classmate, Akane, wrapped up her presentation on how to cook a traditional Japanese breakfast: tamagoyaki, miso soup, grilled fish, rice, and even a beautiful spread of pickled vegetables.

It sounded extravagant, yet she made it look so simple.

Probably because she didn't have to wrestle with the invisible, clawing beast of anxiety like you did every time you so much as thought about public speaking.

Your palms were sweaty, knees weak—okay, maybe not that dramatic, but still. You were jittery and nervous, your pulse a steady drum in your ears because you were up next. And Akane, bless her, was finishing up with a flourish, her smile bright and confident.

You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighten. Yuji, sitting right next to you, leaned over slightly, his shoulder brushing yours, and whispered, "Hey, you okay?"

You managed a stiff nod, mumbling out a barely audible, "Yeah." But you didn’t dare look at him, because you knew the concern in his eyes would undo you. Instead, you stared hard at the scratched-up desk in front of you, willing yourself not to freak out.

Yuji knew about your anxiety. You'd confided in him more than once, spilling the mess of thoughts that spiraled in your head before you had to speak in front of people.

How your heart raced, your mouth went dry, your hands shook. How no matter how much you prepared, how many times you practiced, your body still froze up.

It was like your brain and body were in this weird, dysfunctional relationship where neither of them wanted to cooperate.

"L/N-chan?" Your professor, Nitta Akari, said your name with that polite, expectant tone that sent another jolt of panic through you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could make any sound that resembled a response, Yuji spoke up.

"Sorry, teach, but is it alright if I go first? I'm a little shy…" His voice was as smooth and casual as ever, and you turned to look at him, utterly confused.

What the hell?

Nitta-sensei blinked but nodded, clearly caught off guard. "Uh, sure, Itadori-kun. Go ahead."

Yuji stood, giving you a quick wink as he made his way to the front of the room. You were still processing what just happened when he started speaking, but instead of launching into the well-thought-out paper on global warming you helped him prepare, he began with: "Mario, the Idea vs. Mario, the Man."

You blinked. Once. Twice.

What the fuck?

"Everyone knows Mario is cool as fuck. But who knows what he’s thinking? Who knows why he crushes turtles? And why do we think about him as fondly as we think of the mythical (nonexistent?) Dr. Pepper? Perchance…"  

You couldn't even react properly because he was already going off, delivering the opening lines with this bizarre mixture of enthusiasm and conviction, as if he was genuinely pondering the existential meaning of a pixelated plumber's life.

Everyone in the room, including Nitta-sensei, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion.

There was a couple of snickers, and you saw one of your classmates, Yuki, already recording this on her phone, probably for TikTok.

Yuji, however, was undeterred, fully committing to the bit as he paced slightly, gesturing with his hands like he was giving a TED Talk. "Why does he crush turtles? Is it because he's saving the princess? Or is it because he's trying to save himself from his own internal void? Is it about the princess or the chase?"

You were sitting there, mouth slightly agape, because this was not what you spent hours helping him research. You'd spent countless nights, coffee-fueled and sleep-deprived, going over statistics and climate change projections, not pondering Mario’s deep-seated motivations for stomping on Goombas.

"And those mushrooms. Seriously, who decided that eating weird fungi would make you bigger? What kind of metaphorical bullshit is that? Some kind of growth narrative, maybe? Mario, the eternal underdog—"

"—Itadori-kun," Nitta-sensei interrupted, her voice carrying that unmistakable tone of an adult who's trying very hard to stay patient. Her eyebrow was twitching ever so slightly, and you could almost hear her internal scream as she tried to make sense of whatever the hell Yuji was talking about. "What point are you trying to make with this?"

Yuji blinked, completely unbothered, like he'd only just noticed he'd wandered off into another dimension of thought. "I dunno, but I think…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering around the room like he was looking for the answer somewhere in the air.

It was almost endearing, the way he tilted his head like a confused puppy, his lips pursed as if deep in thought.

There was a pregnant pause, the kind that stretched on just long enough to become uncomfortable. Nitta-sensei exhaled, the sound barely restrained, and she muttered his name again, "Itadori-kun." There was a warning there, a gentle push for him to get back on track, but you could tell her patience was wearing thin.

And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far.

You knew you should let him flounder in his awkwardness, let him take the hit because, well, he put himself in this situation. But instead, you heard yourself saying, "I think Itadori-kun is trying to say that Mario isn't just a game character. He's a symbol of all the pointless shit we chase in life, only to find out the reward wasn't even in the castle—it was in the journey..." The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice wobbling slightly, and you felt the eyes of the entire class on you.

There was a beat of silence, then another, before Yuji broke into a grin, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yup! That's what I was trying to say!" He clapped his hands together, looking almost proud, and you couldn't help but feel a little heat rise to your cheeks.

How does he make everything sound so simple, so obvious?

Nitta-sensei just sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was trying to ward off a headache. She looked at Yuji, then at you, then back at Yuji, her expression caught between exasperation and something almost like amusement. "Alright, thank you, Itadori-kun," she said finally, her voice dry. "For that… unique interpretation."

She waved a hand, clearly done with the whole ordeal. You could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she was trying not to laugh, and it made you feel a tiny bit better.

At least she wasn't mad.

Just as she opened her mouth again, probably to call your name, the bell rang, loud and obnoxious and utterly glorious. You nearly sagged in relief, your muscles unwinding all at once.

The class collectively began to shuffle, packing up their things with the sluggish enthusiasm of students who had made it through yet another class.

Nitta-sensei sighed again, louder this time, and you almost felt bad for her. "Those of you who didn't present today will need to submit a recording since we spent too much time on…" She gestured vaguely at Yuji, who grinned sheepishly, "…this."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, relief flooding through you as you started packing up your things, all the tension and worry melting away like snow in the spring sun.

You glanced at Yuji, who was already waiting for you by the door, his bag slung over one shoulder, looking like he'd just casually won the lottery.

As you walked over, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "What the hell was that, Yuji? Why didn't you read the presentation we practiced?"

He shrugged, giving you a lopsided grin. "I saw you were nervous, and I figured if I made a fool of myself first, maybe you wouldn't be so worried. You know, like, break the ice or something."

Your heart gave a little flip at that, and you couldn’t help the small, soft smile that tugged at your lips. He'd always been like this since you met him—considerate in his own goofy, unpredictable way. "Thank you, Yuji..." you murmured, feeling your face heat up a bit, the corners of your mouth curling up despite yourself. "Seriously, that was… really sweet."

Yuji beamed at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem! I like being there for you, you'd do the same for me."

You giggled, the tension easing out of your shoulders as you nodded. "Alright, how about I buy you lunch at The Den to fully show my appreciation. Deal?"

"Deal!" He practically bounced on his feet, his energy infectious, as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours in a warm, comfortable grip.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but his touch was gentle and familiar, and you found yourself relaxing, your hand fitting perfectly in his.

"Come on, I'm craving those teriyaki burgers!" he said, already pulling you into the hallway, the two of you blending into the sea of students rushing off to their next classes.

You couldn't help but shake your head, a fond smile playing on your lips as you let him drag you along, your heart feeling a little lighter, your worries a little less daunting.

Maybe public speaking wasn't your thing, but having someone like Yuji by your side, you figured you'll be just fine.

A/N: hahaha i just couldn't help myself after seeing this meme going around online...

[serenelystrange]

Rated G

At AO3, or under the cut!

“Oh, I am going to murder the new guy,” Buck hisses under his breath.

Taylor looks up from the paperwork on her newest sale with an arched eyebrow and sighs.

“He’s literally just doing his job, Buckley. Like I’m trying to and like you should be.”

“He stole her right from under me!”

“You mean he smiled at her when she walked in, and she made a beeline to him?” Taylor asks, smirking.

“Oh, Eddie, what a handsome boy you are! My granddaughter would love you!” Buck mocks in an irritated whisper.

“Buck,” Taylor sighs. “I know you have an appointment in ten minutes that you haven’t printed anything for. And I also know that you’re just jealous you aren’t the only pretty boy on the block anymore.”

“I’m not a pretty boy,” Buck says, pouting prettily.

“Go away and let me finish this,” Taylor says. “You’re never going to win that contest if you spend all your time whining about how Eddie is better at his job than you.”

“Oh, I’m winning that SUV,” Buck says darkly. “It’ll be the best wedding gift for Maddie and Chim, especially with the baby coming.”

“You know,” Taylor muses dryly, “If you’d been even half this determined in our relationship, we probably would have dated more than two months.”

“Low blow, Tay,” Buck scoffs. “Low blow.”

Taylor just glares.

“Ok, ok, I’m going!”

He hurries off to the back to print the welcome packet for his next appointment, the image of Eddie’s annoyingly charming smile burned into his brain.

“What’s that for you, Diaz?” Buck asks as they’re all headed out for the night. “Two today?”

Taylor looks between them for a moment before rolling her eyes and striding for the door, leaving Buck to his weird one-sided pissing contest.

“I’ve told you to call me Eddie,” Eddie says calmly, ignoring the baiting tone. “You know that. And it was three, actually. Mrs. Allen bought that little red Nissan for her husband’s birthday.”

“I hope they get full coverage,” Buck says, frowning at the memory of Mr. Allen test-driving a few of their cars previously.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, remembering the same day. “I hope she makes him go to the optometrist.”

Buck smiles for a moment before remembering he’s annoyed at the man, and scowls again.

“I’m still going to win that contest,” he says. “You’re good, but I’m in the lead.”

Eddie just gives him an unphased look and shrugs easily.

“There’s still two weeks left, Evan,” he drawls. “I guess we’ll see who comes out on top.”

He holds the door open for Buck as they leave, biting back the amused grin that wants to spread onto his face as Buck stomps out the door like he has his own personal raincloud hovering above his head.

“Drive safe,” he calls out to Buck’s retreating form, just like he does every other night.

And just like every other night, Buck ignores him.

Buck spots them coming in a few days later, an easy sale if he’s ever seen one, and speedwalks as inconspicuously as possible to the door. An older but stunning Hispanic woman looks around as she enters, a young boy moving along with the aid of arm-crutches by her side.

“Welcome!” Buck says as he approaches, giving her his sunniest smile. He waves down at the boy. “Hey, buddy. You look a little young to be buying a car already!”

The boy giggles, looking up at Buck with bright blue eyes beneath his red plastic eyeglasses.

“I’m not buying a car,” he says, somewhat stiltedly but clear. “I’m here for my dad.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, straightening back up and looking at the woman. “Who’s dad? I can track him down for you.”

“I think we’ll be ok,” the woman says warmly, looking over Buck’s shoulder at someone. “He found us.”

Buck turns, and just barely stops himself from scoffing. Because of course it’s Eddie.

“Tia?” Eddie asks, with a concerned look. “Is everything ok?” He holds his arms out for his son and scoops the boy up, swinging him around until he shrieks before holding him against his side with one arm.

Buck narrowly dodges one of the swinging crutches, but finds he can’t be mad when the kid looks so happy.

Tia relays something to Eddie in rapid Spanish that Buck can’t really keep up with, his limited Spanish language skills stalling out after basic bar talk. But he knows the words for both hospital and grandmother, and he’s frozen in place awkwardly as Eddie’s face darkens with worry.

They seem to be arguing about something now, and Buck still doesn’t understand most of it, so he busies himself by making silly faces at the boy, who also doesn’t seem to be getting most of the conversation. The boy is too old to play peekaboo, but he still makes silly faces back, laughing as Buck pulls out his old party trick of wiggling his ears.

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck startles, looking over at him sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I was just goofing around.”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie says, looking harried. “My abuela fell off her porch, and I need to get to the hospital. Do you think you could take my last two appointments for the day?”

“Don’t you want to reschedule?” Buck asks before he can help himself. “You’ll lose the commission.”

“I don’t have time to call them right now,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I need to tell Bobby I have to leave, and might need a few days off, too.”

Buck wavers, looking at the clock on the wall, knowing he has nearly a full hour until his next appointment is even there, and knowing Taylor will be more than happy to snag any walk-ins that come their way.

“Get me the names,” Buck says, finally. “I’ll call them and reschedule for a week out if they’re up for it. You talk to Bobby and then go take care of your family, man.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks, stunned. “I’m basically handing you two sales here.”

“Are you complaining?” Buck asks, only a little testily.

Eddie shakes his head and hands his son off to his aunt before clapping Buck on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’ll grab the sheets when I’m in the back office.” “I’ll be right back,” he says to his aunt, leaving her and his son standing with Buck.

“I’m Buck,” he says, giving them a little wave.

“Pepa,” the woman introduces herself, before jiggling the little boy. “And this little man is Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Buck says. “I, uh, I didn’t know Eddie had a kid.”

“My nephew can be private,” Pepa says. “Annoyingly so, sometimes,” she adds with a resigned sigh. “But Christopher is his world.”

“I’m sure,” Buck says, smiling at the adorable boy. “I bet you’re what, twelve years old?” he asks with a completely straight face.

That sets the boy off into giggles as he shakes his head. “I’m seven!” he says.

“Well, you fooled me!” Buck says, grinning.

“Come on, Mijo,” Eddie says as he gets back to them, taking him from Pepa and giving Buck another appreciated nod along with his contact sheet as they head off.

“Thanks again, Buck,” he says, and Buck just waves them off, feeling suddenly wrong-footed and not sure why.

Buck is surprised when Eddie is back the next day, and even more surprised when he spots Christopher beside him. He watches from the break room counter as Eddie gets the kid set up at one of the tables with assorted snacks and an ipad, before speaking to him quietly and kissing him on the head as he straightens up and meets Buck’s eyes.

Buck, caught staring, manages a strained smile and takes a long and very hot sip of his coffee to avoid having to speak. Unfortunately, Eddie heads for him anyway, facing the counter as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Buck suddenly regrets standing so close to the damn thing, as he can practically touch Eddie’s arm with his own.

“Thanks again for yesterday,” Eddie says quietly. “Bobby said Chris could hang out here until I get a better babysitter situation for the rest of the summer.”

“No problem,” Buck says. “It’s good that you’re back. I’d hate to win the sales contest by default.”

“Liar,” Eddie says with an amused scoff. “You’d still love it.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck says, fighting off a grin. “It wouldn’t be as fun as winning fair and square.”

“You know,” Eddie says with a growing grin. “I bet the soccer moms would love to see how well their Chris-sized kids fit in the minivans…”

“Cheater!” Buck gasps. “You can’t use an adorable face to sell cars for you!”

“Why?’ Eddie laughs, “you do it all the time. I’ve seen those little old ladies literally pinch your cheeks.”

“Better than my ass,” Buck says, cringing as he thinks about the hassling Taylor has dealt with since she joined up. “Tay kicked a guy right in the balls once though, before you were here. It was great. He threatened to sue.”

“How’d that go?” Eddie asks, delighted.

“Bobby dragged him over by his ear to watch the security footage of him grabbing Tay, and told him if he ever stepped foot in the building again, he’d have his wife arrest him.”

“Damn,” Eddie says with appreciation. “Nice.”

One week before the contest ends, Buck checks the board in Bobby’s office, finding that Eddie is just one sale away from tying his lead. He glares at the board for a long moment, as if the smudged white plastic somehow made the numbers up instead of just recording them. Shaking his head, he decides he needs more coffee before he can deal with the day.

“Hi Buck!” Chris calls out from his usual place in the breakroom as Buck walks in, waving at him excitedly.

“Hey, buddy,” Buck says, heading over to the table and sitting down across from Chris. “What are you working on?”

“Paint-by-numbers,” Chris says, frowning down at his ipad, stylus in hand. “It’s to try and help my motors.”

Buck watches him fondly as he swipes with the stylus with determination, worrying his lip in concentration.

“You mean your fine-motor skills, maybe?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods, “that was it.”

“Your dad with a customer?” Buck asks, realizing the room is empty besides the two of them and wondering where Eddie had vanished off to.

Chris shakes his head, still looking down at his ipad.

“He’s on the phone outside,” he says, looking up briefly to give Buck a sad look. “He doesn’t want me to hear him yell at the army people again.”

“Army people?” Buck asks.

“He got hurt in a war,” Chris says. “So they made him come home, and now he’s angry at them all the time.”

“Oh,” Buck says, quietly. He doesn’t know the whole story, sure that Eddie will have given Chris only the abridged, child-friendly version, but it’s enough to make him frown in thought. “Well, I know he’s happy to be back with you, even if he’s angry at the army.”

“Maybe,” Chris says, shrugging without looking up, and Buck feels his heart breaking for the kid.

Eddie reappears in the break room before Buck can say anything else, face flushed red with irritation that he’s trying to smother as he heads towards his son.

“How’s it going, baby?” he asks Chris, a forced lightness to his voice as he peers down at the ipad painting.

“The leaves are tricky,” Chris frowns. “They’re really small.”

“Just do your best,” Eddie says, ruffling his hair. “It’s ok if you can’t do everything all at once.”

“That’s a good lesson,” Buck says, ostensibly to Chris, but starting right up into Eddie’s surprised brown eyes.

Eddie drops his gaze, avoiding Buck’s eyes, and pretends to watch Chris painting until Buck finally looks away.

“No Chris today?” Buck asks the next day when Eddie shows up alone.

“Pepa has the day off,” Eddie says. “So he’s hanging out in his pajamas on her couch instead of at one of our shitty lunch tables.”

“They are so wobbly,” Buck agrees.

Eddie hums, heading to the back room to grab the paperwork for his first appointment. Buck follows before he realizes what he’s doing, and leans against the wall by the printer as Eddie waits for his documents.

“Chris said something about the army yesterday,” Buck says, “you got hurt?”

Eddie sighs tiredly but nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fucked up my shoulder pretty bad, among other things.”

“Shit,” Buck says. “I’m sorry.”

“At least I made it home,” Eddie shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Now if only the VA would actually help me with the kid they made me leave. That would be great.”

“Is Chris ok?” Buck asks with concern. “He told me he has C.P. but he seems basically alright, all things considered.”

“He’s great,” Eddie assures him. “He just needs to find a school that will actually be able to accommodate him and still give him a decent education. And that shit is so expensive.”

“And the VA doesn’t have any resources?” Buck guesses, frowning.

“They might,” Eddie says with a sigh. “But I’m so overwhelmed with it all, between the move from Texas, and finding a place for me and Chris, and starting this job, I just now started the process.”

“You’re from Texas??” Buck asks, incredulously. “How has that never come up?”

Eddie shrugs.

“No offense,” he says, “but you’ve pretty much hated me from the day I started. I didn’t think you’d want to compare backstories.”

“Oh,” Buck says, feeling all at once like an absolute buffoon. “I don’t hate you,” he says.

“Then what was with the attitude?” Eddie laughs, as the printer finally finishes collating his papers.

“It’s dumb,” Buck says, ducking his head. “But I was just jealous you swooped in here with your stupid pretty face and stole all my customers.”

“You know,” Eddie says, “Taylor did tell me you were just jealous, but I didn’t believe her.”

“I get too caught up in competition sometimes,” Buck says, sighing.

“Little bit, maybe,” Eddie says nodding. “So, you uh, you think I’m pretty?”

“Oh, we are not having this conversation,” Buck says, pushing himself off the wall and fleeing, leaving an amused Eddie laughing after him as he goes.

“Did I ever tell you about my ex, Abby?” Buck asks the next day he finds Eddie alone at the front desk. It’s a slow day, and Chris has managed to pull Taylor and Ravi into a spirited game of Go Fish in the breakroom.

“You barely spoke to me for the first two months I worked here,” Eddie says, giving him a sassy look. “So no, you haven’t told me about your ex.”

“She was a little older than me,” Buck says. “Was taking care of her mom before she died, and it was really rough on her, you know?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie says, the question of but what does this have to do with anything clear in his tone.

“It didn’t work out,” Buck says, surprised to realize it doesn’t sting as much as it used to when he says it. “But I did meet this really great woman because of her.”

“Ok?” Eddie asks, amused but still lost.

“I think you should call her,” Buck says, handing Eddie a mint green business card.

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Buck,” Eddie says, glaring at the card with an inordinate amount of offense, in Buck’s opinion.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says earnestly, “she’s married.”

“What is happening here?” Eddie asks with exasperation.

“She was their home health aide,” Buck explains. “She calls herself ‘red tape’s worst enemy’”, “and I bet she can get you and Chris the help you need with his school before your head explodes.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck with badly disguised wonder. “You really think she can help?”

“Definitely,” Buck says, grinning. “She’s a miracle worker.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Eddie hesitates for a moment before pulling Buck into a brief one-armed hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s uh,” Buck stammers, face flushing, “it’s nothing.”

Eddie shakes his head and claps Buck on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as he looks at him for a long moment.

“For Chris?” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s shoulder, “this is everything.”

The bells on the door chime as a customer walks in, breaking the moment, and Buck takes the opportunity to escape to the bathroom.

Eddie can take the sale.

“You were right,” Eddie says, as Buck opens his apartment door and looks at him with bleary eyes. “It wasn’t nearly as fun to win that SUV by default.”

Buck groans, wondering how Eddie even found out where he lives, but moves back to let him in.

“It’s not my fault I got a stupid awful cold in the middle of August,” Buck sighs. “Corporate should take sick days into account.”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees, handing Buck a round Tupperware container that’s still warm. “Tia Pepa made it, it’s chicken soup.”

“You brought me soup?” Buck asks, feeling inexplicably like he might cry at the gesture. “You don’t even like me.”

“I never didn’t like you!” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “Your beef with me was entirely one-sided!”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Buck whines, “I’m sick.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a pro at dealing with sick babies,” Eddie teases, leading Buck towards the couch he spots. “Sit down, I’ll find you a spoon.”

Buck tries to glare at him on principle but finds he doesn’t have the strength. Instead he lets himself be guided to the couch and settles down, tucking his bare feet up under his criss-crossed legs and securing the couch blanket around his shoulders.

“Chris says thank you, by the way,” Eddie says from the kitchen where he’s opening random drawers to look for spoons. “For the new car.”

“Hmm?” Buck asks, tired brain failing to understand what Chris has to do with the contest.

“My old car is on it’s last legs,” Eddie explains, “and even with our discount, I wasn’t going to be able to get anything better or bigger anytime soon. But the SUV holds his security seat and gives him plenty of room to stretch out his legs.”

“I didn’t know that,” Buck says. “You should’ve told me before.”

“I didn’t want you to lose on purpose,” Eddie says as he walks over and hands Buck the spoon before settling down on the other end of the couch. “A pity win is even worse than a win by default.”

“I wouldn’t have lost on purpose,” Buck says, the lie obvious even to his own ears.

“Sure, bud,” Eddie says, smirking. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I hate you,” Buck groans. He takes a careful spoonful of the soup and hums happily. “But I love this soup. I guess it evens out.”

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “So, what are we watching?”

Buck shrugs and pulls the Tupperware bowl up to his mouth to sip from directly, breathing in the steamy goodness.

Eddie can figure out the rest.

“Why didn’t Taylor win, anyway?” Eddie asks when Buck is recovered and back at work. “She’s killing it out there.”

“Tay goes for the high-priced sales,” Buck says. “Luxury cars and stuff. She’s good at it, and she definitely makes more money than both of us. But the contest was for the most individual sales, not the overall sales amount.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Eddie laughs. “Chris loves the car, he wanted to camp out in it the other night.”

“Adorable,” Buck says, fondly. “But not great for anyone over five feet tall.”

“I told him I’d take him camping before school starts,” Eddie says casually. “Next weekend maybe.”

“That’s cool,” Buck says. “You’ll have to make smores! It’s tradition.”

“Is that what you did with your family?” Eddie asks, looking concerned when Buck’s expression shutters for a moment.

“My parents aren’t really the family activities type,” Buck says. “But Maddie, my older sister, she would camp out with me in the backyard, and we’d make smores and tell ghost stories.” He smiles at the memory, despite it all. “She’s really great.”

“Maybe you could come with us?” Eddie asks, almost shyly. “We can make smores and roast hot dogs. Chris is excited to build the fire.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, “I wouldn’t be in the way?”

Eddie shakes his head, giving Buck a soft smile.

“Not at all,” he says, “you should definitely come.”

Buck smiles again, feeling the blush creeping all the way up to his hairlines, but nods in agreement.

“Can’t wait.”

“I can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas,” Buck says as they’re leaving one Friday night, he and Eddie locking up as they go. “Not that it ever gets cold enough to snow here.”

“L.A. cant even handle rain,” Eddie says as they head to the employee lot, “we don’t need them trying to drive in snow.”

“Truth,” Buck agrees, shuddering at the idea.

They make it to the cars that are parked side by side, each pulling out their keys before facing each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks, knowing full well that Eddie has been planning their planetarium trip for literal weeks.

“Obviously,” Eddie says, grabbing Buck’s shirt collar and tugging him in for a sweet kiss.

“Drive safe,” he says, like he has every other night.

Buck steals one last kiss for the night, laughing against Eddie’s lips as he finally says it back.

The End

Notes:

Honestly, what am I even doing with my life? ^_^

[android-anathema]

i got an obviously fake USB recently because I wanted a USB anyway, i don't really care if it has less storage than the price would get me if i got a normal one, i wanted to see what they were like and play around with fixing it so it displays the correct size and i'm probably less concerned than I should be about plugging in strange USB's made by people I know want to scam me. I'm really amused by the claims made on the packaging though. this USB device is compatible with 6G already and was made with antioxidants!

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 4

Warning: alcohol, graphic description of a bipolar crash and panic attack (or, at least how I experience them). Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Stepping into the foyer, the soft darkness envelopes him. Holding the door gently, he makes a futile attempt to mitigate the screaming hinges, before giving up and just closing the damn thing.

He's tired. It feels like he's been running a marathon, and as far as the exhausted muscle in his chest is concerned, he has. It's been pounding like a god damn drum, nonstop, for hours.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you a word that was said during the ceremony. You'd consumed his senses, filled them completely. He only looked away from you once, to fumble in his pocket for the ring, otherwise he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of you. He caught your scent on the evening wind, and the spinning in his chest turned faster.

He tried to hold onto his thoughts, but they ripped from his grasp as they started to spiral. He clenched his jaw, he had to hold it together. He was the Best Man at his best friend's wedding and he had shit he was responsible for. But his mind has always been a bigger beast than he is.

Look at her.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

She's perfect.

Your kind of perfect.

This will never be you, you know.

Freak.

Unwanted.

If you were human, you'd be together already.

If you were human, you'd probably be engaged by now.

Why does she waste her time on you?

All you do is drag her down.

Chain her to the sewers when she should be living a real life.

With a real person.

Why?

Why do you do that?

Why are holding her prisoner just so you can feel better about yourself?

He couldn't hear past the rush in his ears, but he was vaguely aware that there was cheering around him. Then you'd turned to look at him, smiling like the sun, and the answer crashed over him like a violent wave.

You're a monster.

He stops just short of the sitting room, eyes closing and jaw clenching, as the memory floods him.

You'd turned to him and smiled and for one moment everything stopped. You were the only thing that existed in the universe. You *were* the universe.

That's when he hit the wall.

A sharp inhale was the only outward indication of the crash. But inside, he was screaming.

You're light streaked through his veins like fire along saltpetre. Burning away all pretense. No matter how much he wanted, no matter how much he needed, he would never be more than this. He could dance with you, sing with you, laugh and cry with you, but he could never ever love you.

Unacceptable.

Unworthy.

Unloved.

The guests in attendance began to disperse, while the bridal party stuck around for pictures. Through the smoke haze he could see very little, and could hear equally as well, though his body seemed to know what it was doing. He had no choice but to trust it.

His heart was pounding, and he's pretty sure at some point Casey thanked him, but his only thought by that point was to get away from everyone.

As soon as there was an opening, his body excused itself and made for the house. He was winded by the time he reached the side opposite the party, the panic attack threatening to consume him.

He put a hand on the wall, leaning against it with his head down, trying to breathe through the burning. His hand flexed and the antique wood siding of the house cracked under his fingers. He ripped his hand away, scalded.

You destroy everything you touch.

He'd stumbled backward, staring at the spiderweb cracks left behind by his fingers, a dry sob escaping him.

What hope does she have?

Eyes closed tight, he balled his hands into fists and pushed everything down. Get it together, he'd berated himself, you still have shit to do.

Three deep shuddering breaths and then he could breathe evenly. He locked the panic down tight and opened his eyes. It would hit him later, and twice as hard, but this was more important. Just a few more hours.

The reception was a blur of flashing light and discordant sound, and he avoided you for most of it. Or tried to, anyway. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape you.

Four separate times you had hunted him down and begged him to dance with you. And as the champagne flowed, and the night spun on, you became harder to avoid.

"Boo!" you said, peeking around the bar at him, grinning. Your cheeks were flushed pink from drink and dancing, and your scent wrapped around him with the night air. He tightened his jaw and tried not to breathe.

"Yoooouuuuuu've... been avoiding me," you accused, slinking around the wall, practically lying against it.

"Busy," he rumbled, starting to mix a drink for no one, and not looking at the siren calling to him.

"Oh come on, Red," you'd pouted, standing up from the wall, "The night's almost over and you haven't danced with me once." You walked over to him "Please? You've been working this whole time, come have some fun. I promise the reception won't fall apart without you." You teased, placing a hand on his forearm.

He froze the moment you touched him. He was shaking and he prayed to anyone who would listen that you wouldn't notice. The last thing he needed was you knowing that something was wrong. you cared about him too much, and your knee-jerk would be to fix it.

His hand tightened around the high ball and Mike popped his head around the corner like a god damn superhero, "Hey, they need you for the bouquet toss."

"Okay, one sec," you replied, and he disappeared again. "Please try and have *some* fun tonight?" You squeezed his arm gently, before letting go.

When you removed your hand his skin burned, and it wasn't until you were out of sight that he risked breathing again. He'd set down the glass, braced himself on the bar, and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the cracks in the glass where he'd been gripping it too hard. He drew a deep breath.

He wasn't going to make it.

Snatching the bottle and leaving the broken glass, he made for the house. He skirted the perimeter of the reception, trying to be as inconspicuous as a 6'5, 350lb, bipedal turtle dressed in a tux can be.

He heard the countdown and made the mistake of looking over as April's bouquet flew through the air. You weren't even trying, you were talking, but, as if the Gods were punishing him, it had landed in your hands anyway, and he felt his pounding heart clench.

He watched as one of the other guests came up to you and placed a very human hand on your arm, presumably asking you to dance.

It will never be you.

He turned and continued toward the house until he heard familiar clumsy footsteps coming up the hill behind him.

"Hey, where's the fire, Red? Oops!" You'd said, giggling as you nearly tripped.

Your voice pierced him like an arrow, pinning him in place. He tried to take a deep breath as quietly as he could, but you've always been too good at reading him and asked if he was okay.

You'd persisted when he tried to brush you off, and he'd come up with some excuse. The longer you stayed there with him, the faster his resolve was crumbling, and he didn't want to fall apart in front of you. This was not your problem, and there was no point in runining your night, or your friendship.

He attempted to sidestep you, and you'd brushed against his arm. Your touch seared him, and reflex caught your wrist in his hand. For the first time in hours he met your gaze.

Disgusting.

Unworthy.

Why? Why make him this way? Why give him the ability to fall in love at all if he wasn't allowed to? What kind of cruel bastard...

Your wrist flexed in his hand and you looked up at him with an expression that said, I'm here. Whatever it is, I'm here. It's a familiar look, and it brought him back to himself. You're always the one he runs to. Now he was running away.

He dropped your hand, muttering an apology and fled without another word, leaving you behind.

Heart hammering in his chest, he nearly stumbled with the force of it. He made it to the other side of the house and collapsed, a wave crashing over him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, pulling in air, and getting nothing except dizzy.

On his knees, hands pressed to the ground beneath, it felt like his shell was crushing him. He maneuvered himself to sitting on the cold slate tiles, pulling his knees up to his chest.

There were no more words inside his head, only screaming, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped his head tight, begging for it to stop. Some vague part of him was aware that he was crying, but any thoughts were swept up into the vortex inside of him.

The panic attack held him, shackled to his faults, for seventeen minutes, but it could have been a year. By the time he finally felt it begin to subside, he was exhausted and trembling.

He'd retrieved the bottle of whiskey that had rolled under the nearby bench, and, with great effort, managed to pull himself onto it. He'd held onto the bench to steady himself, before opening the bottle and drinking nearly half of it.

He remained there until his father found him.

He takes another deep breath, exhaustion seated heavy, like a stone in his chest, and rests a hand on the wall beside him. He needs sleep. He continues to make his way toward his room at the back of the house, passing by the open archway to the sitting room.

Where he finds you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

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