#Okay I know some people keep saying it's new but for me it's not Lol.

[tekutiger]

For a while now I've been looking for a setting in FFXIV and I've finally found it. It's not NEW, but I don't think it's commonly known either.

I wanted the setting that changes the player's name color in chat, according to their role. For example, if they are tank, their name would be blue, if they are healer, their name would be green, and if they are DPS, their name would be red.

At first I thought it was this ⤵️

The "Apply colors according to role." check mark option. But what that does, is this;

It may be a bit difficult to tell here because I tried to edit names in the screenshot (attempting to be considerate of people). It's really hard to see the ONE tank in my Alliance (B). But that option color codes the names of players above their head, in your party. And It doesn't effect other players in your alliance. (I have my alliance name plates set to a color very similar to that green apparently... I might change it.)

After learning this (literally today), I went searching again and found the real thing. It's this ⤵️

Found in Character Configuration > Log Window Settings > Button at the top right that says "Name Display Settings"

It'll open a new window called "Chat Log Name Display Settings".

I feel like this is rather hidden tbh 😅. But I was going over this topic with a couple friends in Discord and honestly this find is nice. We're all going to be using it 👌🏻

You can mess with the settings and apply them, and view how they'll look real time at the bottom with the small chat 'example' they provide.

It's just one of those small quality of life things, y'know? It's not game breaking, but it's nice to have 😊

[sweetenby]

Im saying this as someone who's secondary social media is vent. (An app so unprofitable the former owner had to lie to sell it and the current owner is losing money to keep it afloat.) But no matter how anticapitalist the user base is, it will never change that social media is firstly a product. And that if products don't make money they get taken off the market.

[bmpmp3]

now that virvox has basically handed me my own personal slightly clunky boyband with the voicevox humming update to play with i now fully understand the urge for anime idol companies to give all the vocal lines to one specific character. i want to put my specialest little guy of all time (takehiro) in like every part LOL

[churipu]

STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. cursing, mentions of death, gojo being sad and angry, 2006 gojo geto shoko.

note. for some reason i feel angsty today and i just saw this prompt on pin, just had to write it lol.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call — your very last call.

"i could've fuckin' saved them, suguru." gojo blankly stared at the ceiling, his head thrown back onto the couch's rest; he was conflicted, he didn't know what to do. it was as if his motoric abilities had just stopped all of a sudden.

"satoru . . ."

"i could've fuckin' saved y/n." the white haired male mumbled out, his face scrunching in frustration.

gojo has dealt with death. a lot. the concept of death isn't a stranger to him anymore, not in this world — and to think that he'd actually be alive to experience deaths of his loved ones, thinking he could have done so much more made him hate himself.

god, gojo hated crying in front of other people. the aura in the room was palpable. nobody spoke —nobody dared to speak— and the only sound resounding was the vague ticking belonging to the clock hanging on the wall.

"i could've fuckin' saved them," the male repeated for the third time, his voice breaking that he had to inhale sharply to stop himself from breaking down right there.

gojo pushed himself up, placing his palms above his eyes, pressing down on them harshly; he lets out a loud sigh, "where the fuck did it all go wrong?"

"y/n was killed in action . . ." god, gojo wanted to rip his hair out when yaga called him in privately to say that. the male had lost count of how many times the statement repeated in his mind.

frankly, it's haunting.

out of all the news he could have received today, he never expected to hear your death lulling into his eardrums. so soon. so many things swirling in his mind all at once that even he, deemed the strongest, felt the sensation of losing. he felt weak.

"hi, 'toru — you're probably busy since my call went straight to voice mail, but 'm just saying . . . i love you, and i miss you. so much." there was a slight pause and your breathing shallowed into the mic, every single detail in your last moments were graved in that file, "'m not sure if . . . i'll be back as soon as i promised, but, i just want you to know that whatever happens. happens."

there was a slight static before your soft voice recoiled back into the mic, "i've never broken any promises to you, but this might be the very first time — and just know that i've never wanted to do this, i fucking hate myself for this," your voice broke slightly, "'m bleeding. a lot. but 'm trying to stop it just like how ieiri taught me. and i think 'm doing shit at it . . . i don't know what happened, and how it happened; but 'm not doing okay."

"i don't want to die, 'toru." you whispered into the mic, hoarse and weak — feeling the life drain out, "i really don't want to die . . . i have so many things i want to do with you, and suguru, and ieiri . . ." you murmur out, inhaling sharply but it all ended up with you coughing out in pain.

"remember that time i said i wanted to open a pet hotel . . ? i don't know if you think i was joking, but i was really serious about opening one," you began to mumble out, all in random directions — none of your words make any sense anymore, and you could barely keep yourself awake.

"i don't want to die, please," you pleaded, desperate for life. no matter what you did at this point — the light inside of you was almost out, and you can't do anything about it, "fuck. i hate this. so much, 'toru."

"i want to see you again. i miss you. i miss you so so much," you softly murmur out, " . . . i love you. i love you so much, satoru."

and everything ended right after. including you.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call. your. very. last. call.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[il-miele-che-scrive]

you know what people are saying when a girl gets cheated on? go for his brother.

a/n not tryna offend anyone, I just love a lil drama

Part 2 here

view all comments

username1 Miss Y/n Y/l/n getting cheated on? No one is safe fr

↳username2 Yeah cuz how's he casually cheating on a literal goddess??

username3 they were together for almost 2 years😭

username4 My therapist will hear about this

↳username1 And Arthur is paying the bill

username5 that's it I'm NEVER trusting a man

username6 Isn't that girl Y/n's friend too? Poor girl getting cheated on twice

↳username3 yes it is 😭 guess Arthur got it from his brother

username7 Except Charles didn't cheat 😭 he's a homie hopper but he got morals

username8 I don't worry about Y/n, she's gonna find a new bf, but she wasted almost 2 years on him

yourusername excuse my state i'm as high as your hopes

view all comments

username2 Miss girl about to enter her hoe phase

↳username3 As she should tbh

charlottesiine Lots of fun last night🤍

↳yourusername nothing will beat an ex wags night out

↳username2 best ex wags fr 😭

yoursister Next time I'm going too to keep an eye on you wtf

username4 Wait so Y/n and Charlotte are friends? When did this happen?

↳username5 Yeah cuz we've never seen them hang out back when ChaCha was a thing and suddenly the girls are partying together?

↳username6 I mean it could be just a "we both suffered a Leclerc so let's hang out" kinda thing

username5 WE BOTH SUFFERED A LECLERC 💀 no okay but that's valid

username7 Am I the only one noticing this post was liked by Charles?

↳username2 He knows his lil bro messed up lmao

username8 Okay guys so what are we betting on - did Charles like this post because of Y/n or because of Charlotte? Also, isn't he in a relationship?

↳username3 Charles has been single for a few months now, he's free to like whoever he wants lmao

↳username9 It's just a like it's not that deep

arthur_leclerc You were my cup of tea but I drink vanilla latte now

view all comments

username1 The AUDACITY some men have

username2 and she was her best friend 😭

username3 I really want to believe they broke up before he got with the best friend but I don't think it's true

↳username4 Y/n and Arthur literally attended Charles' race a few days before we got the pics of Arthur with the other girl

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername you don't mean nothing at all to me

view all comments

yoursister And I didn't even have to stop you from calling your ex

↳yourusername why would I even wanna call him anyways

yoursister Riiight, you were too busy getting to know some other interesting people:)

username1 What is Y/s/n talking about?

↳username2 Or rather WHO is she talking about?

username3 No Charlotte in the post but Charles is in the likes again 😶

↳username4 Have you seen what this one gossip page posted? Charles being in the likes isn't the thing I'd worry about here

username5 WHAT.

username3 Care to elaborate?

username4 Charles was also at the club with Y/n. It honestly looks like it was organized by a friend of his and he took Y/n there

username2 OH

username2 That's what Y/s/n is talking about

username5 Our girl Y/n is getting promoted from F2 to F1 and I love to see that

↳username6 LMAO it's so funny because it's true 😭

↳username2 Do we know who else was at this party?

username4 Allegedly the party was organized by Gasly, so obviously there was his gf Kika, but also some fellow drivers like Albon, Russell, Sainz, Ocon, Ricciardo and their gfs

username5 I was joking but now it looks like Y/n is actually becoming an F1 wag now lol

username7 Gossip girl on wheels I've been saying it for months

username8 But the caption SLAPS

↳username9 no because it looks like Y/n and Arthur are having a caption war lol it's funny

username8 It's childish but let a girl heal from a heartbreak in peace

yourusername karma will take it from here

view all comments

username1 MISS GIRL?? WHO IS THE MAN??

↳username2 We all know it's Charles (allegedly)

username8 Nah cuz I told yall she's gonna find another boyfriend soon

yoursister Loving to see you happy again ❤️

↳yourusername just needed a little upgrade

username3 I have no proof but I just know it's Charles

username4 Do we think she went for Charles because she genuinely likes him or just to get back at Arthur?

↳username5 Wait until someone starts a "she cheated on Arthur with Charles" gossips

username6 My two favorite red flags

↳username7 The homie hopper and the brother hopper, a match made in heaven

username6 The homie hopper is so real, Y/n recently hung out with his ex Charlotte 💀

username8 What kinda brother gets with his brother's ex?

↳username9 Imagine the next family dinner lmao

username10 Y'all it's not even confirmed that the man is Charles, y'all are crazy

↳username6 The post was liked by all the F1 drivers and their partners that were on the party from Y/n's previous post, it says a lot

↳username2 What @/username6 said and also Y/n is now followed by half of the F1 grid AND the wags

charles_leclerc Not your cup of tea, but my glass of wine

view all comments

yourusername KARMA IS MY BOYFRIEND❤️

comments on this post have been turned off

[pettydollie]

could you IMAGINE bakugou having a gf whos a teacher?? but not just any teacher, nono. a KINDERGARTEN TEACHER. lowkey when he sees u teaching a kid abt counting apples or something, he will think abt having children with you. just seeing you being so gentle nd sweet with little brats munchkins turns his brain into mush.

on one particular day, he went into your classroom wearing his hero costume for a little q/a type thing. everyone was so impressed just by looking at him, even if they didn't know who he was. they were all sat whispering to their friends at small desks as bakugou's large figure just strutted in LOL.

you give him a tiny little peck when he walked into the classroom, to which some kids let out "ooo"s and snickered. you clapped your hands together. "okay boys and girls, let's walk over to the magic carpet for circle time!" you led bakugou with you to the large rug where two chairs were set.

the kids were all sat in a circle, excitedly waiting to talk to the number two hero!! bakugou sat down somewhat awkwardly as for the first time in a while, he was a teeeensy bit nervous for whatever reason. "today we have a special guest joining us for circle time! does anyone know who he is?" you grinned as you saw many hands go up.

"yes, ryu?" you picked on an adorable little boy in the center. "that's mr. dynamite from the news!" he yelled.

"that's right, ryu! but let's use our inside voices, please." you smiled. "does anyone know what mr. dynamite does?" you questioned again. one little girl was squirming in her seat, hand held high. "go ahead, kanako." you nodded to the girl who sat up straighter upon being called on.

"he saves people, l/n-sensei!"

"damn right i do." bakugou smirked pridefully. you lightly nudged his shoulder. "no cursing." you whispered. he rolled his eyes but listened nonetheless. "okay, starting from this side of the rug," you pointed to the left. "you can ask anything you want to the hero, as long as you are kind. and if you don't have a question just say 'pass' and we'll go straight to the next person." you announced. all the children nodded in unison.

"start us off, please." you handed the 'talking mic' to the first kid. "mr. dynamite sir, where are your blasters?" he curiously turned his head to the side. "huh?-" bakugou looked down at his hands. "my gauntlets? left those guys at work. they're too powerful to be here." he answered.

the punks students continued to ask their questions and bakugou replied calmly like this was an everyday event. "you're big." a boy stated. bakugou quirked a brow. that's all this brat had to say? "i know." he replied nonchalantly. "why?" the kid blinked, keeping a straight face.

"uh, why?? i dunno, kid. jus' the way i am." he shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. the kid folded his arms and moved to sit on his knees. "it's my turn now.." a quiet girl next to him tapped on his shoulder, reaching out for the mic. the boy stuck out his tongue at her before turning away to look at bakugou again. "thas' not a real answer."

"kenji, that wasn't kind. you had your turn, now please give the mic to haru." you frowned. haru's eyes turned glossy and her lip began to quiver, but kenji still wasn't letting up. "thas' not fair, sensei!" kenji whined.

"hold it, kid." bakugou stepped in. kenji's attention turned to bakugou, an angry pout written all over his face. "ya ask me sum dumb question," he began. oh gosh, a dumb question? he's not wrong, but he can't say that to a 5 year old! "katsuki." you muttered, trying to get him to stop. but he kept going anyway.

"but i answered it, right? y'r not being a team player to y'r classmate, buddy." bakugou finished, waiting to see what would happen next. the room fell silent. kenji had listened, handed the microphone to haru. he was still upset though, everyone could see it.

"one minute, haru. kenji," you called out. the boy looked up with fat tears in his eyes. "is there something you want to say to your friend?" kenji wiped his eyes with the back of sleeve and mumbled "sorry." to haru. "is okay." haru accepted happily with a toothy grin.

bakugou leaned back in his chair, feeling satisfied with himself as the questions continued. huh, who knew right? you could get used to this.

when the period was over, bakugou waved goodbye to all the kids. however, he bent down in front of kenji and put his fist out. although the child was still somewhat annoyed, he couldn't hold in his grin as he fist bumped a pro hero. "let's all say 'thank you' to, mr. dynamite!" you stood up from your chair, folding your hands together.

"thank you, mr. dynamite!!"

bakugou kissed your cheek and walked to the door with you following behind. you opened the door and he adjusted his mask quickly. he ruffled your hair. "see ya at home, babe."

a/n: literally so rushed im so sorry i just had this thought and i had to get it out. will for sure be coming back to this later :D

[berzahoes]

“slut!” | tom blyth

summary: in a word full of boys, tom is a gentleman.

an: takes place before filming billy the kid

warnings: mean names hence the title also if you care, reader is the same age as tom lol

“so keep your boyfriends hidden because y/n is newly single!”

“how many boyfriends has she had in the last four years?”

“clearly she’s the problem if she can’t keep a boyfriend.”

you heard it all. the names people called you, the headlines, news reports. it was always the same. people would rather shame you for your love life than be quiet. in the past you did joke that you went on many dates, clearly the media didn’t care if you were joking or not.

your manager had even banned you from looking at the really negative comments on your phone. twitter was having a field day with your love life.

“slut!” was the phrase often directed towards you. while your loyal fans defend you, you could still see all the hurtful things people said about you.

“do you want to cancel tomorrow’s interview?” lisa, your manager, asked one day. you hadn’t answered your phone at all and she was concerned so she drove to your new york apartment and let herself in with the spare key she had. she had found you in the darkness of your room curled up with your plethora of blankets.

“cancel everything. i just want to rest for a while.” you managed to say. lisa was like your second mom. she cared about you more than anything.

“we can do that.” lisa assured.

“lisa?” you turned to face her.

“yes?”

“thanks for checking on me.”

“always.”

after that conversation, lisa made some calls and any movie or tv show deal you had were quickly cancelled. over the next few days, the media found out that you pulled out of many movies from big franchises like marvel and star wars. it was always a dream of yours to be in anything marvel or star wars related, but for now, those projects had to continue without you.

many friends and colleagues reached out to you, but all you could do was send a simple ‘thank you’ and be done with it.

days passed and you were still in your apartment. you didn’t mind being alone, you liked it better that way. sometimes lisa or your parents would drop by or even your upstairs neighbor, mrs. davis, a nice old lady who knew that your favorite cupcakes were red velvet so she made you some to cheer you up.

it was a tuesday afternoon when you heard someone cursing multiple out in the hallway. you figured someone got locked out so you ignored it. pretty much everyone in the entire building got locked out at least once. you were ignoring the cursing as you continued reading your book and ate your red velvet cupcake that your kind neighbor had made you. a few seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“no.” you groaned as you stood up to answer the door. you opened it to find tom. you had only known him because you had a mutual friend so you were surprised to see him at your door.

“hi,” he spoke. “i called and texted . . a lot. i just wanted to see how you were.”

“i’m alive as you can see.” you said.

“i know you’ve been asked this question a lot lately but are you okay?”

that’s when you broke down. you couldn’t keep it together in front of tom, but he didn’t mind comforting you. somehow he knew exactly what you needed to hear.

he would often come over to keep you company when lisa or your parents couldn’t. he understood you didn’t want to step foot outside so he didn’t force you. instead, you two would go up to the terrace of your apartment building and hang out. tom would bring lunch or dinner depending on the time that he decided to visit. during that time, you two would talk about whatever would come to mind. tom did his best to avoid talking about work, but you always asked how his filming was going or if he had auditioned for anything new.

“i got the part,” he admitted. “i’m playing billy the kid.” he smiled brightly.

“I’m so happy for you, tom! you deserve it!” you hugged him.

“it’ll be announced next week. you’re the first to know, well apart from my manager.” he chuckled.

“you deserve that and more.” you smiled.

“you do too. other people should see that,” tom said. “you’re so talented and amazing and everything about you is so. . . incredible. i wish people see you the way i do.”

you were speechless.

“are you okay?” tom asked when he noticed you were quiet.

fuck. fuck. fuck FUCK he thought to himself

“you mean it?” you managed to say. you could feel yourself start to blush.

“every bit and more. i enjoy being with you and if i could be with you for the rest of my life then i would die a happy man.”

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.  

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause.  Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.   

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”   

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?” 

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.  

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”  

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning.  “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.  

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.  

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his. 

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.  

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.  

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.  

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”   

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.  

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.  

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.    

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.” 

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.  

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.  

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.   

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

[dynsdiary]

━━ wellie elliams

pairings : streamer!ellie williams x reader

warnings : use of yn, mentions of using weed/nic, lowkey self inserted uhh, more focus on ellie than ellie x reader

cr : @idontgetanysleep & @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n : guys i really enjoyed doing this, had a thought of ellie's reactions to read fics about her, her edits (esp with the ai audios, shout out to akemi, i love her) & fan arts

DAILY CLICK

DONT BUY TLOU

WAYS TO HELP PALESTINE

👾 starts off doing streaming just for fun & thinks to herself that no one’s gonna watch it until people actually enjoy watching her play.

🎮 definitely play minecraft and would argue with KIDS on roblox and get competitive with them while playing.

🕹️ OBSESSED WITH FORTNITE LITERALLY A FUNDRAISER TO FORTNITE

👾 definitely would say this "i can cook, clean and carry you on fortnite" to flirt with girls

🎮 she definitely has a cat(s) and people would always want it on the stream

🕹️ i can totally see her raging while playing valorant lolll and would definitely waste money on the skins too.

“okay chat, should i buy it? nah, im just gonna buy it” the chat floods with saying no but will she listen to you guys? no. “okay, i just bought it! watch my aim get better chat” her aim DOES NOT get any better lol but at least the skins are pretty!!

👾 she’s surely shy at first and won’t show her face, hell even her hands !! she just shows what she's playing and just talk

🎮 would try to be social with her “fans” as much as possible cause she likes to hang out with them.

🕹️ would do a face reveal after she hit the milestone!! and people would go CRAZYYYYY. i mean who wouldn’t, right? it’s ellie williams!!!

👾 she probably would be active on twitter more and sometimes on tiktok and rarely on instagram (just to update story and her feed)

🎮 tweet the most unhinged things YET doesn’t get cancelled because somehow all of her tweets are kind of relateable…

🕹️ other than streaming her gameplay she would definitely do some reaction, play her guitar and sing, reviewing things that are so useless & stupid

👾 talking about reactions, SHE WOULD TOTALLY REACT TO THE EDITS, ART AND FICS ABOUT HER (she thought it was funny and some of the fics are BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN)

smelliewilliams : OH NO SHE KNOWS iloveellie69 : uhh yall better hide !!!! livelaughloveellie : ellie pls dont react to it 😇 simpforels : FOR YR OWN SANITY!! “chat, you’re going crazy” she scoffed. few minutes later… “oh wow, that sure is something! haha uhm…” "the technology is getter scary, how does she makes it sounds like me. like does that not sound like me actually saying it?? it's really impressive" her reacting one of the edits with ai audios that sounds like her “YALL ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD AT DRAWING”

🎮 she appreciates all of your edits, fics and arts! would totally do friday fanarts or something like tom felton would do lol!

🕹️ people BEG her to do vlogs, cause it would be fun and silly vlogs!

👾 her music taste is 👩‍🍳 💋, source? trust me bro.

🎮 people would want her to do a room tour cause somehow she keeps her room clean & tidy but also a really cool room

🕹️ small lights >>>>>> big lights

👾 people would be shocked if they knew how smart ellie is 😭 a major nerd if you ask me ! there's no doubt that she starts to share some fun facts that she knows & takes some online quizzes to prove that she's smart

🎮 would totally go on omegle and just troll or make new friends

🕹️ that is where she met you !!

you were bored one night and decided to go on omegle just for fun and you met her there. although ellie's platform is big, she still doesn't know half of the influencers or streamers so her chat goes CRAZY when she sees you and is like matchalvr : OMG IS TGAT YN ???? smelliewilliams : ELLIE YOURE SO LUCKY justanormalgirl : MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING “wait a second, are you yn?” she asked ”that’s me” “why is my chat going crazy about you?” her eyes scanned the chatroom. “hold on, you do streaming too?”

👾 started to play with you more and she would occasionally join your stream and support you there if she can't play (since the timezone sucks)

🎮 people start shipping you two and one-day ellie liked an edit of you and her (which is super hot and the audio is boaf? BOAF!! , pls get what i mean 😢) and the fandom went insane

🕹️ the two of you started to get close and plan to meet each other sometime in the future

👾 LOL WOULD TOTALLY DO THE “when the gc makes it to the hang out” TIKTOK, the gc is being JUST the two of you 😭

🎮 she would either have an energy drinks, juice or water on her table.

🕹️ her sleep schedule is FUCKED UP, that’s explaining her dark circle & eyebags.

👾 love when people greet her at public place, she just love meeting her fans

🎮 oh im pretty sure she goes to the twitch con (?) thingy and would probably go with you as your date hehehehehehehhehehehe

🕹️ have figurines and legos displayed in her room

👾 super open about her using weed & nicotine (to sleep)

🎮 is open minded and an open book

🕹️ would do "my anons dark secrets confession" thingy

👾 OH SHE WOULD DO ASMR FOR FUN & people actually enjoyed it lol

🎮 she would play dress to impress with you

🕹️ STREAMING TOGETHER WITH YOUUU

👾 when the two of you are officially dating, both of you wear "i love my hot gf" every single streaming session

🎮 she loves matching bro so matching avatar in games

🕹️ would talk about you 24/7 EVEN WHEN SHE DIDNT MEAN TO

"oh me and my gf just-" , "chat, me and yn are-" elsyngfs : OKAY ELLIE WE GET IT!!!!!!!! ynssimp : i get it ellie, i too would talk abt her a lot ynaalyn : WHERE DO I FIND THIS RS GUYS idwtowatchellie : BRO UR R A LOSER GF smelliewilliams : gosh imagine if they're not ldr...

in conclusion, she's literally a loser lovesick lover girl

REMINDER !!

that neil is a zionist and therefore dont buy his games, doesnt matter remastered or not !!!

before you leave, have you DONATE TO PALESTINE today? ITS FREE TOO !!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

sanctuary

words: 900

warnings: scary movie, small mention of sex (actually to say nothing sexual lol), first kiss <3, soft!rafe

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” you curse quietly, trying to find some way to get out of the situation. “how about the hunger games?” you interject into the conversation, kelces new girlfriend tessa shaking her head no.

“if we watch one, then we'd have to watch catching fire, then…” she trails off. “i think we all agree on hereditary.”

you simply swallow hard. you don't want to admit how much you truly hate horror movies, especially when the room is filled with your friends and their boyfriends.

you take a seat on the couch, schooching yourself as far away as possible. maybe you'll fake being asleep to get out of having to watch the scenes unfold.

you pretend to be very interested in the thread on your pants as the opening credits begin, blinking up when the spot on the cushion next to you is taken.

rafe gives you a soft smile. out of everyone in the room, he's the one you know the least, despite the movie night taking place in tanneyhill. he's friends with all your friends, but you've never made a point to hang out with him, mostly due to the crush practically every girl has on him, his charm and good looks not making you immune either.

“hey.” you say softly, smiling at him, noting that there's various other seats open, but rafe chose next to you.

“are you sleeping over?” rafe asks. a majority of the group planned to disperse among the many tanneyhill bedrooms, as the following day rafe is throwing a party, with the rest of his family being out of town, theres no reason not to take up residence inside on of the mansions many rooms.

“um, if there's an open bed.” you shrug. you drove yourself so you had the choice to go home at any moment, just in case you needed to back out.

“ill make sure there is one for you.” rafe whispers as the movie starts. you nod and give him an appreciative smile as his eyes turn towards the screen.

the opening of the movie is slow, building up to the scarier parts. you pull your knees in to your chest, trying to watch out of only one eye as the scenes get creepier and creepier.

you jump at the first scare, along with some other people but your reaction gets noticed by rafe, who places a hand on your shoulder. it almost makes you jump as much as the movie does.

“you okay?” he asks, moving closer to you.

“not a big scary movie fan.” you admit, looking rafe in the eye to avoid looking at the screen.

“oh.” rafe smiles slightly, hand going from your shoulder to wrap around you, pulling you into him in an unexpected move.

“you're not gonna make fun of me?” you question, the words slipping from your tongue before you can think out of sheer surprise.

“of course not.” rafe says, hand squeezing gently, comfortingly. “just… hide against me for the scary scenes.”

you manage to make it through the movie ducking your head against rafe, pressing your squeezed shut eyes into his chest, eventually relaxing into his grip, cuddled together on the couch as the movie finishes. his presence next to you keeps you from freaking out at the scary scenes, his strong arms never wavering from their place wrapped around you, even when popcorn is brought out and drinks are passed around. 

“thank god.” you mumble when the lights get switched back on. rafe chuckles lightly, pulling you closer once more before letting you sit up with a stretch.

the couples rush quickly to their rooms, leaving a few stragglers to pick off the remaining bedrooms.

“i might just go home, rafe…” you look around tanneyhill, it's mostly dark, a majority of the lights shut off, giving the historic house a scary feel.

“ill drive you home if you want to, but if you don't want to sleep alone, my bed is open.” he says it so casually you're worried you misheard him.

“huh?” 

“nothing sexual.” he shakes his head. “just sharing a bed. ill even keep a nightlight on for you.”

“really?” you giggle. you only want to go home so you don't have to be in total darkness.

“yeah.” rafe places a hand on your upper back, guiding you towards his room. there's already a light on, but he clicks an extra lamp on, illuminating the room even further.

“thanks.” you mumble. “for during the movie and for this.”

“it's my pleasure.” rafe smiles, climbing into bed, everyone having changed into their pajamas before the movie. he flips the covers back, gesturing for you to slide under them.

you keep yourself towards the edge of the bed, not wanting to invade rafes space when he's already done so much for you.

“oh come on, get over here.” rafe opens his arms up, and you smile, shuffling over to place your head on his chest, legs tangling together. the steady beat of his heart relaxes your own as you place a hand on his torso, holding back your gasp when you realize how prominently you can feel his muscles through the fabric of his shirt.

rafe kisses the top of your head. it's sweet, so different from what you're used from him. you pick your head up to look into his blue eyes.

“thank you.”

rafe leans down, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. “i mean what i said.” rafe gives them another peck. “nothing sexual tonight. but if after the party when you've had some time to think about it…”

you nod enthusiastically, a smile on both of your faces. “im sure ill find myself in your bed tomorrow night as well.”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[tojis-favorite]

Speechless

Your and Toji’s relationship was not a perfect one. You two were on and off, always arguing about the pettist things, so you took it upon yourself to suggest a break. There was no way you guys were going to break out of this cycle without some type apart to breathe.

Toji hated this; he was always checking up on you, sending you money out of nowhere. It didn't help that his friends were your biggest ops (not really lol). Let you even stand near another guy and it's being reported back to him within the hour.

That is exactly what was the case tonight. Your friend had done some serious convincing for you to go to this kickback that one of her friends was throwing. Deciding why not you got dressed, drank a little liquor and were now walking into the crowded house.

“Bitch this is not a kickback everyone and their mama is here.” You huffed out irritated already knowing one of Toji’s friends might be in the building. “You need to live who gives a fuck if there here.” She said dragging you deeper into the crowds of people.

Unknown to you, someone had already spotted you being one of tojis friend’s Geto (a/n omg imagine.) “Gojo do you see what I see?” Turning his head he sees you and your friend being approached by two guys getting ready to hit on you. Already having his phone out Gojo goes to his camera, snapping a picture of you smiling as the guy puts his hand on your lower back.

Sending it to Toji with the address attached he shows Geto his phone and they both laugh and continue to enjoy the party.

It has been well over forty minutes since you got to the party and you did not regret coming; you were meeting new people and you were having fun doing so. But you were hot and you knew you probably looked a mess due to the constant drinks you have been given to by your best friend.

“I need to go to the bathroom!” You exclaimed to your friend in the loud room and she gave you a thumbs up before walking behind you to look for the bathroom. “I can take her.” A deep voice chimed in and you side-eye your best friend to make sure she heard the same thing.

“Girl say the word and we’ll jump him right now.’’ She said seriously in her drunken state, shaking her head and saying “No it’s fine, i’ll be back.” You walk toward the staries to the bathroom. “Geto you guys make sure her friend is okay until we get back, make sure she drinks some water.” Toji told his two friends before making his way behind you.

Entering the bathroom first Toji follows behind you and closes the door locking it. Crossing his arms together the first thing he says is “This is what we're doing now?” Confused, you reply “What?” Toji tilts his head “What? Were we just letting random strangers in our face?” He said, mocking your voice.

“Toji don’t start this, I'm single-” “No you're not” his strong voice cuts in “You never have been and you never will be, no other person is going to take care of you the way I do and no other person can make you feel the way I do.”

Walking toward you he lifts you up on the bathroom sink and stands in between your legs. “When are you going to stop playing and come back to me?” You didn't know if it was the liquor in your system or if it was the way he said it (a/n it was both lmao) but you were feeling some type of way.

You did miss him and the in between of your legs were tingling… he must have known because he reached under your dress/skirt and put his fingers inside of you. “Your not wear any panties ethier I should fucking kill you.” He whispered in your ear as you leaned back into the mirror, mouth open as silent moans came out of your mouth.

Bending down Toji got on his knees as he circled his lips around your clit with his tongue and fingers going at the same pace. “Fuck Toji keep going please.” You begged pushing your hips deeper into his face causing him to groan with a mouth full of your pussy.

Going faster he shakes his head side to side as you felt his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. Grabbing his head you move your hips to feel your release approaching as your whole body starts to shake.

Put in a split second you feel nothing. The knot in your stomach is no longer there. Toji fingers were no longer inside of you and his mouth was no longer giving you pleasure.

“Come on Ms. Single lady I need to get you and your bestie home.” Toji smirks as he pulls you off of the counter and pushes you toward the door

Leaving you unfinished and speechless.

Sorry for being gone for so long a lot was happening in my personal life. I do have a surprise for next month so stay tuned!

I low key wanna start writing for Connie from aot should I?

Part 2???

[monamourbladie]

AHH OKAY SO.. this feels so weird typing out but IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE CAN YOU WRITE LIKE PROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE DAN HENG IL? idk how to describe it aaa like.. id imagine because he is a vidyadhara, they stay with their lovers for life, so he's be like very protective over his lover. maybe smut but its up to you!!!!!!!

Possessive Dan Heng/IL head canons

okay firstly i wanna say i was sitting on this ask for days bc i was trying to think of a possible plot but I couldn’t:( so i’m just gonna do some head cannons, i hope you don’t mind! I’ll be including some nsfw ones at the end too don’t worry :)) and thank u for being my first request on this blog hehe~

Dan Heng:

alright, so Dan is a very reserved and kept to himself kinda guy as we can see on the Express. he doesn’t show his emotions a lot and he’s kind of hard to read

you’re one of the few people that can read him like a book due to how close you guys are and how much he trusts you. like, even MARCH couldn’t get him to open up as much as he does with you

so when he’s upset, you just know. like it’s so obvious to you and you alone lol

so let’s say you’re out in Belobog and he’s speaking with March & Stelle when some guy comes up to you and starts chatting with you

initially he wouldn’t think much of it until he starts hearing laughter from you, and then all his attention is on you and him. like, why are you laughing at his jokes? what’s he even doing talking to you??

he’d just kind of keep his distance and just watch. nobody else really understands what he’s doing, but you can immediately recognize the coldness in his eyes as he’s glaring daggers at the man.

eventually he’d have enough when he notices him starting to touch your arm and he immediately walks over, keeping a calm & collected stature

“y/n! there you are, i was wondering where you ran off to.” he’s walk up behind you and wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close against him.

your cheeks would flush and you’d immediately lean into him, feeling better now that he’s here and can scare the guy off. “i was just waiting for our drinks.”

“and speaking with me. i was offering to give her a tour around Belobog, since she’s new,” the man said with a smile to her. dan’s grip would tighten around your waist and he’s grit his teeth.

your drink would be called and he’d move away for just a moment - (it helped that you were waiting by the counter, anyway) and grabbed your drinks for you, handing you one and kissing your forehead as he did so, “that’s sweet, but we already have a tour guide. let’s go.”

he’d grab your hand and fast walk you away, his heart almost aching from the exchange.

you always understood how sensitive he is about you dating him, since he’s been so heavily traumatized by his previous marriage in his past life. any scenario where you could leave him in any way terrifies him more than he wants to admit.

“was that supposed to be intimidating?” march would comment with a giggle as they walked over. dan simply sighed as he handed march her drink, “leave it, march.”

you’d look up at him with a soft smile and tilt his face to look down at you. you’d grin and kiss his lips longingly, “don’t worry, sweetheart. i was just being nice and keeping conversation.”

this eased his mind greatly - it’s not like he doesn’t trust you, he’s just extremely insecure and fearful about losing his loved ones, even to a random stranger in a planet they have no plans to stay on.

back at the hotel when you’re alone though? that’s another story. he doesn’t feel the need to keep his usual reserved facade up, and you know that.

the moment the door is shut, he’s immediately behind you, his arms trailing up yours as he peppers kisses up the back of your neck, “i hated seeing him speak with you, you know that?” he’d mutter against your skin.

you’d hum and close your eyes as you leaned into his touch, knowing this was going to be a pleasantly long night. “were you jealous, baby?” you’d playfully tease him.

he’d let out a low growl against your skin as his grip on you tightened, moving you in his arms so you’re pressing your chest against his own. he leaned down and started to kiss against your jawline up to your ear, “i don’t get jealous. i get protective.”

“you’re so jealous,” you’d giggle, moving your head so you could kiss his lips instead. he’d kiss you back harshly to immediately shut you up, beginning to walk the two of you slowly over to the bed as you’d kiss

he’d pin you down against the bed quickly, his kisses getting more feverish as his hands start exploring your body, “that’s enough out of you. you’re my girl.”

you’d squirm under his touch in enjoyment, cheeks flushing red from being called his girl. you loved when you got him to act all touchy, especially when he was riled up like this.

he would absolutely tease you all throughout the night just to get you so riled up that you’d just be panting and begging for him to finally let you have your release.

he’d click his tongue and lean in against your ear, his fingers teasing you unbearably slowly as you squirmed. he wouldn’t let you have your release until you cried out that you were his and only his, reaffirming him in the best way.

he’d lean down and kiss you heatedly as he pumped his fingers quickly to push you over the edge, “good girl, that’s right… you belong to me, no one else…”

youd cry out as he helped you through your high, “o-only yours, dan… f-fuck…”

there was literally nothing he adored more than seeing you a sobbing, moaning mess all because of him. part of you wondered if you should get him possessive more often if he would treat you so nicely afterwards…

Imbibitor Lunae:

if you thought dan heng was closed off and reserved, dan feng was another level. we all know everyone described him as cold and uncaring, but when it came to you? he was a total opposite and an absolute sweetheart.

he had his moments of being a typical brooding dragon, but the love he has for you is so immense that it outweighed every once of coldness in his heart and actions

it honestly surprised most of the quintet when he announced that you two started dating, because out of everyone they expected to actually get a girlfriend the high elder himself was last on the list — let alone a short life species such as yourself.

dan feng does not like showing any ounce of PDA in public by any means. in the public eye, he only would have his arm around you if you were walking around, or occasionally held your hand. he would never kiss you if he knew a lot of people would be seeing it

at least that’s how he acted early on in your relationship. this lead to most people thinking you were single, so it was not uncommon that you would have guys flirt with you right in front of him.

the first time dan feng noticed a drunk guy coming into you hardcore, it made his blood boil. unlike dan heng, dan feng was totally cool with showing off his angry side.

he immediately stormed right up and got between the two of you, resting his hand against your chest and glaring at the man, “i think it’s best if you leave.”

the man scoffed as he crossed his arms, “actually, it would be best if you left. i was having a great time with her.”

dan felt his blood boil and he glared at him, “that’s my fiancée, and i suggest you get away from her immediately.”

“or what?” the man spat back. “for being her fiancé, you certainly don’t act like one.” without thinking, dan shoved the man against the wall, his arm pressed firmly over his chest, “you have some nerve to speak to your High Elder in such a way. I told you — stay away from her. you should be thankful i’m not throwing you into the Shackling Prison for being an ass.”

the man’s eyes widened as he started sobering up enough to realize how badly he fucked up. he squeaked and nodded furiously, “i-i’m so sorry, your highness! it won’t happen again!”

he’d step back and let him run off quickly. turning back to you he saw your cheeks burning red with embarrassment, and his demeanor immediately changed back to stoic. he approached you and began to walk away with you, his hand wrapped around your waist, “i believe i owe you an apology. i didn’t realize i wasn’t acting as much of a fiancé as I thought i was.”

and ever since that day, he made sure he always had his arm around you in some way, and made it very, very clear that you were his fiancée.

he’d pretty much be the same as dan heng, except way more passionate and dominating about it. he’s not afraid to entirely let his guard down in private with you, especially about anything sexual, so absolutely be prepared for a long, pleasure filled night

he’d be very dominate but definitely a pleasure dom … most of the time lol, other times he’d just be absolutely rough with you if he was really, really feeling jealous or possessive

he would not be afraid to leave a lot of marks - it made him proud that others would absolutely know you’re taken just by one glance at your neck, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. he knew he fucked up early on, and he made sure to always make up for it, especially in bed

and yes — part of the reason why he’s so protective over you is because you are a short life species. it absolutely destroys him that while you will grow old and spend the rest of your life with him, he cannot share the same blessing with you, and he absolutely hates himself for it. it’s not fair.

that’s why any time anyone tried anything with you, he’d get so angry over it because how dare they flirt with his one and only?

he also gave 0 fucks that some vidyadharans did not approve of you, in fact he loves to flaunt it in their faces now and kiss you at public events when he hears people murmur about the high elder and his “short-life woman.”

moral of the story, don’t fuck with the high elder’s woman or you’re a dead man

i hope this is what u had in mind alenfhehddhhd thank you for the request 🫶🏻

[sanguineterrain]

Hello madame terrain, I have been thinking about boxer!jason for some time now and I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about him? if not that's totally okay too ☺️ love all your writing!!!

lol hi, madame terrain is adorable 💕 also boxer jason is big brained!!! let's do it ;)

boxer!jason todd x gn!reader. reader is an apprentice to a ringside doctor (leslie thompkins). tw creepy OMC intimidates reader, jason protects/defends r, fluff, my attempt at boxing stuff.

****

Leslie said she'd be back in an hour.

You're currently at the thirty minute mark, hoping for a natural disaster, an angel, anything, because...

"Doc gives me stuff for my pain all the time," Keith says for the third time. "It's real simple."

Keith Dixon is one of the gym's regular fighters. You haven't seen enough matches to judge his fighting, but you can confidently say that his people skills are in the toilet.

He'd barged into the office ten minutes ago and had refused to leave even when you said Leslie was out.

You need to make a break for it.

"You have to wait for Dr. Thompkins," you say, lifting your chin. You won't give in and risk losing this job. No way in hell. "I can't administer medications. I'm not licensed."

Keith rolls his eyes. He's a hothead, new to Gotham. Likes to fight. Likes to fight mean.

"Look, you're new. I'm just giving you a heads-up on how things work around here," he says, backing you up further. You're nearly against the wall.

Where the hell is Leslie?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dixon, but I can't prescribe painkillers without her supervision."

"Uh-huh. Know what I think? I think you're just not cut out for the ring," Keith says, cornering you against the cabinet. "Cute thing like you shouldn't be hiding in an office. The Doc ought to know better..."

"Is there a problem?"

The new voice makes you flinch, just a little. Keith pulls back, posture easy but guarded. The second guy holds himself similarly. He's also well-built, clad in a gray tee and black sweatpants. His hands are wrapped.

"J-man," Keith says, daggers in his teeth. "Man, I thought you were benched for the week. You meet our new assistant? They're still getting used to how things run around here."

The mystery man looks at you. His eyes are a lovely teal.

"Is he botherin' you?" he asks.

"I—" You swallow. "I was just explaining to Keith that I can't administer medicine without Dr. Thompkins."

Keith huffs. "Jason, tell 'em how this works."

Jason faces Keith. They nearly match each other in height and bulk. You hope to God they don't decide to brawl here and now.

"I think you're the one who needs a reminder, Dixon," Jason says coolly. "Seems pretty straightforward to me. You need to wait for the Doc. So was there something else you needed?"

Keith's mouth presses into a line. You can tell he's got about a hundred ugly thoughts on his tongue right now.

"Nope," he grits out.

"Mm. Then step off."

Keith obeys. You slip out of the corner.

"I'll come back," he says.

"When the Doc's here," Jason adds. It doesn't sound like a suggestion. "If y'need a reminder of her schedule, I don't mind giving you one."

Keith looks at you. You hold his gaze, heart pounding.

"Of course," he says, all false charm, and pushes past Jason. "See ya in the ring, J.T."

You can't relax even after Keith leaves. Jason remains in the doorway. You close your eyes at the thought of dealing with another fighter. It's not bad with Leslie here, but this is your first time alone. It's already a disaster.

Obviously, none of the fighters respect you like they respect Leslie, even after three weeks of you working here. You don't even know all of the fighters.

"Hey." Jason doesn't move from his spot as he asks. "Y'okay?"

"Yes," you say, keeping your back straight. "I'm fine. Do you need medical attention?"

"I just came to get some more wraps. But I can get 'em at home."

His voice is softer now that Keith's gone.

"No need," you say. "That's what I'm here for."

You get a roll of tape from the drawer. It takes you three tries to pull the edge out. You drop it twice.

You feel Jason's eyes on you. You keep pulling the tape, but it won't comply.

"I got it," he says. "I can wrap myself. Toss it here."

You pause, tape half unfurled. "Dr. Thompkins told me to do all wraps myself."

"Leslie's cool. I won't tell her, anyway."

You shake your head. "Why don't you want me to wrap your hands?"

Jason glances to the side. He leans against the doorframe, purposely casual.

"'Cause Keith's a big guy. And I'm a big guy. And your hands are still shaking."

You tighten your grip on the tape.

Jason gestures to the office. "This is your space. I won't come in if you don't want me to. That's not how this works."

"It's... it's the job," you say, startled. "I don't—I've heard that Keith's rough with everybody."

"Yeah, well, he's an asshole. You shouldn't have to be rough back. Good fighters turn it off outside of the ring. I don't want to make you feel small. Alright?"

Tension bleeds out of your spine. You no longer feel like prey.

"It's easier if I wrap them for you," you say, and turn your back on him to fetch the antiseptic.

The tiles behind you creak as Jason hesitates for a moment. Then he walks in and sits in a chair, so you're higher than him.

He looks up at you. He really does have beautiful eyes. His eyelashes are dark and delicate. There's a faded bruise on his cheek.

He's boyishly handsome, with a mouth that looks like it smiles a lot.

"Do you also fight here?"

He nods. "Since I was eighteen. Been here a while."

You take one of his hands in both of yours. Jason's already thrown out the old tape. His knuckles are cut up. They're covered in scars. His fingernails are short and neat.

His hands are big, far bigger than yours. Veins feed into each other from the backs of his hands up his forearms.

You take out the antiseptic spray.

"Might be cold," you warn.

"'S okay."

You spray his skin. Jason doesn't even flinch.

"Your hands are really soft," he says.

"Oh, thank you. I use Isley's Salve. Works great."

Why did you share that?

Jason's mouth quirks. "Yeah? Might have to try that. My hands have seen better days."

"I have some in my bag." You let go of the half-done wrap and dig through your backpack. You pull out the small tube of salve and squeeze some onto his hands.

Jason is quiet and still as you rub in the lotion. He's pliant as you finish the wraps, letting you turn his hands over. You pull the wraps tight.

"All done," you say, face suddenly warm like you've been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

He flexes his hands a few times. "Thanks. You're good. I can see why Leslie chose you as her apprentice."

You shrug. "Anybody can wrap hands."

"Dunno. I've seen some pretty shit wraps in my time."

"Oh. Well, um, I'm here most of the time, so feel free to come by and get your wraps changed."

He hums. "Sure. Don't worry 'bout Keith. I'll take care of it."

Your eyes widen. "I don't want more trouble..."

"You won't get trouble, I promise. We don't tolerate that here. 'Sides, he's overstayed his welcome."

You nod. "Okay. Thank you, Jason."

"No need for thank you's. Y'alright getting home?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Leslie's dropping me."

Jason nods, then picks himself up. He pauses like he wants to say something else, but he strides out of the room like he's in a rush instead.

"Well, um. G'night," he says over his shoulder. "Take care."

It's about fifteen more minutes until Leslie returns.

"Everything alright?" she asks in a tone that tells you she already knows the answer. "I ran into Jason on my way in. He said Keith Dixon gave you some trouble. I'm sorry I took so long. Are you alright?"

"You ran into—I thought Jason went home for the night."

Leslie looks like you've just told her the sky is red. "He wanted to make sure you were okay. So he waited till I came back. Are you okay? Did Keith hurt you?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm alright. Just shaken up. He's a bully. Wanted painkillers."

Leslie frowns. "He won't bother you again. I'll make sure you're not alone."

"It's okay. I mean, Jason was there."

She nods. "Mm. He's a good boy. I know his father."

"Yeah, he, uh, was nice. I wrapped his hands."

Leslie raises an eyebrow. Your shoulders rise.

"What?" you ask. "You said to practice my wraps."

She shrugs. "Nothing, nothing. I did tell you that. I'm glad you got some practice in."

You follow her to her car. Soon, Leslie pulls out of the lot.

"Leslie, do you mind if we stop at CVS?"

"Sure. What for?"

You feel for the little tube in your pocket.

"Need more Isley's Salve... I'm, uh, running low."

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

The Mouse and The Bear (König x Reader)

(A/N: I'm too drunk to proofread this rn, I tried to keep this GN but it might've ended up being a fem! Reader. I'll come back and fix this later lol

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of injury, slightly angsty but not really, lots of fluff)

"Don't look now, but I think someone has their eye on you." Soap says with a smirk as he walks up next to you in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes in response, knowing that meant any moment now you were going to have some annoying asshole approaching you.

"Spare me." You say under your breath, Soap just laughs in response as he finishes pouring his coffee and heads off. You picked up your lunch, going to find somewhere to sit where hopefully whoever decided you were their new love interest would leave you alone. You were met with a sight you didn't expect. Instead of the usual bombardment of unwanted flirting you caught the almost nervous gaze of KorTac's gentle giant. The second he realized you caught him looking, his eyes snapped down to the mug in front of him. You hadn't had a lot of interaction with König but the few you had he had been nothing but pleasant.  A soft smile finds its way to your lips as you start heading in his direction. "Hey König." You greet him pleasantly, "is this seat taken?" He shakes his head, a look of pure disbelief in his eyes over the fact you were standing in front of him. You slide into the chair opposite him. Normally if there was someone at base checking you out you wouldn't bother indulging their infatuation but König made you curious.

"I'm sorry for staring." He admits immediately, acting like a child getting caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"König I'm not mad." You reassure him.

"It's still rude… I know how much I hate it when people stare at me." He seemed to relax slightly now that he knew you weren't upset with him. Before you could ask him why he was looking at you he answered the question on his own. "I've never seen you without your gear on… I never realized how small you are- not that it's a bad thing of course! I know you're more than capable of handling yourself-"

"König," you cut him off before his rambling got him too flustered "it's okay." You smile at him and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. This was the first time you really allowed yourself to look at him. Bright blue eyes looking anywhere besides at you, he hunched over the table in an attempt to make himself look smaller and less threatening. "Du brauchst keine Angst vor mir zu haben." (You don't need to be afraid of me.) You joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You speak German?" He sounded shocked.

"A little, I used to live in Berlin when I was younger." You explain. He nods, leaning forward slightly to give you his undivided attention as you speak. You sat and talked with him for a while, you definitely couldn't complain about the company. He was very attentive, asking you questions that prompted you to keep talking. He had a loud, boisterous laugh that made your heart soar everytime you coaxed it out of him

"Mick, we got takedown training, let's go." Your time with him was cut short by Price informing you to head down to the base's gym.

"I'll be right there." You call back. You turn your attention back to König, who was fidgeting with his mug again. "This was nice, thank you for the company." You smile at him, nervous eyes moving down to the table.

"Maybe… maybe we could do this again sometime?" He asks softly.

"Are you asking me on a date?" You retort immediately. His eyes snap up to you, already trying to stammer out a response in his flustered state. You giggle, reaching out and placing one of your hands on top of his, which looked child sized compared to his. "If we ever have downtime together I would love to." He nods, giving you a quiet goodbye as you cleaned up the table and prepared to head to training. You were unable to keep the dumb grin off your face for the rest of the day.

A few days later you found yourself in the kitchen again. You groaned internally as a high pitch whistle met your ears. "You come around here often sweetheart?" You recognized him, some obnoxious Private that often got in trouble for disrespecting the chain of command. He wasn't worth the energy, you just kept going about what you were doing prior to his interruption. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he tries to sound threatening. He steps uncomfortably close to you, "I asked you a question."

"You really shouldn't be speaking to a Sergeant that way." The Private turned, ready to cuss out whoever had interrupted his terrible attempt at picking you up. You saw all the color drain from his face at the sight before him. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing out a laugh. The Private slowly starts to back up with every heavy footstep that echoed through the kitchen. König steps in front of you, blocking off your pursuer. "Are you alright?" He glances back over his shoulder at you. You nod and his attention immediately turns back to the Private. "I suggest you get out of here kotzbrocken (lump of puke) before I tell your superior officer that you were getting aggressive with a Sergeant." As if on cue his Captain entered the kitchen. König very calmly explained the situation to him, the Captain grabbing his subordinate by the collar and pulling him off.

"Do you want to fucking die? Because messing with her is a good way to get there." You hear him angrily mutter to the Private as he pulls him out of the room.

"You're sure you're alright?" He asks in a much gentler tone than he was using before.

"I'm fine König, thank you." You smile at him, turning back to what you were doing before you were interrupted. You groaned as you looked through the cabinet. "He always does this to me, he knows I can't reach that shelf." You stood on your toes, struggling to reach your favorite mug that you knew Ghost put on the top shelf on purpose. König reached over you, grabbing the mug with ease before lowering it into your hands. You turned to thank him only to be startled slightly by his close proximity. You knew he was a big man, being 6'10, there wasn't anything about him that was small. But you had never witnessed your height difference with him this close up. You stood about his stomach height, the nearly 2 foot difference causing you to have to look straight up to see his mask covered face. Seeing your flustered appearance he quickly stepped back.

"Sorry, I just figured I'd have an easier time reaching it." He says bashfully.

You swallowed thickly, the mug in your hands becoming the most interesting thing in the room at the moment. "It's alright, I appreciate the help." You start making the tea you had originally come in here for, both of you sitting in silence. You didn't have to look up at him to know that König had his eyes on you. He was leaning up against the counter a couple feet away from you, just studying your movements as you flit around the kitchen. You hear König chuckle, your eyes drifting over to him. "What's so funny?" You ask him with a smile

"Don't take this as an insult, but you remind me of a mouse. You're so small and fast." You both laugh at his joke, he wasn't wrong.

"I mean, I don't have the codename Mickey for nothing." He studies you for a moment, you could tell he was thinking about whether or not he should say something.

"Would it be okay if I called you Maus?" He asks quietly. Normally you would object to someone calling you that. But hearing it from König, his deep voice that paired so wonderfully with his accent, you loved the way it sounded coming from him.

"I wouldn't be opposed… but only you get to call me that." You see the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile.

"Deal." You searched through the fridge, finding a container of leftovers you had cooked the other night.

"Would you like to join me for lunch?" You ask, holding up the container.

"I would love to." It became a ritual for the two of you to have lunch together. You enjoyed the fact that he was company outside of your team and the usual annoying flirts around the base. Even though you hated to admit it, you had found yourself rather smitten with the Austrian giant. König was kind, but never in a way that made you think he was only being nice to you because you were cute. He was always making you laugh, cracking small jokes and telling you stories. He loved to see you smile, it was one of his favorite parts of his day.

"Good morning Maus." You smile as you hear König enter the kitchen behind you. You pull down a secondary mug from the cabinet.

"Good morning Bärchen." You greet him softly as you pour him a cup of coffee alongside yours. You hear him chuckle as he approaches you.

"Bärchen, huh? Mouse and Bear, that seems pretty fitting." He nods his thanks as you handed him his coffee. "Ready for the debriefing today?" Price had informed you yesterday that Task Force 141 and KorTac were going to be teaming up together for a mission. You were more than happy to work alongside them, the whole team was incredible. But you were still worried. 

"As ready as I'll ever be." You sigh, taking a long sip of your drink. "Just… promise me, wherever we end up tomorrow, that you'll be careful." You couldn't look at him. The fear you were feeling in your chest, it was too real of an emotion for you. You weren't going to say that you were never scared to go on a mission, that would be a lie. This however was new, you had another person besides yourself to be worried about.

König smiles down at you, carefully reaching out to tuck some stray hair behind your ear. "Maus, you have my word." The threat of tears welled up thick in your throat. "I'm not going anywhere, liebling." Someone calls from down the hall that it was time for your meeting. You feel König place a hand on your lower back, keeping you close while ushering you further. You came out of your debriefing feeling even worse than when you went in, this wasn't going to be your run of the mill mission you were used to. This was going to be dangerous for even the most skilled soldier. The second everyone had broken off to try and enjoy the rest of their day König pulled you aside. "Look at me, it's going to be okay." He could tell you were on the verge of panicking, despite knowing that would only make the situation worse.

"König do you know the statistics of how many people get hurt going on missions like these. Do you know how many people die?" You said it, the one word that was forbidden in your line of work. He drops down on one knee, gently taking your face in his hands.

"I know, and I know it's scary, but I don't want you to be thinking about that." He sighs, stroking your cheek. He wanted to make you feel better, he hated seeing you so anxious. "Let me take you on a date… it will give us something to do instead of sitting around worrying." You froze, your mind going blank. He wanted to take you on a date?

"I…I don't have anything to wear. If we're going on a date I want to look nice." You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. König was right about one thing, it would be a welcomed distraction.

"You already look beautiful Maus." You blushed at his compliment. He held out his hand to you and you took it without hesitation. His skin was warm and calloused, his hand completely engulfing your own as he let his fingers completely close around it. The two of you got permission to head into the city for the evening. König had been stationed in this area before so he knew exactly where he wanted to take you. Before you left he changed out of his sniper hood and into a cloth mask that covered the lower half of his face. You finally got a chance to get an idea of what he looked like underneath. You were shocked to find out that König had dark blonde hair that he kept relatively long compared to usual military standards. He had freckles that peaked just above where his mask. You could also more clearly make out the wrinkles by his eyes that shows how much he genuinely smiles. When the two of you headed into town you were honestly a bit surprised when you ended up at a food truck that served some local specialty. He ordered for you and paid for your meal, the entire time keeping his hand on the small of your back so he could ensure that you were still there next to him. You wandered into a park to look for a place to sit and made it just in time to catch the sunset. You let your head fall to rest on König's arm, he sat next to you completely rigid.

"Thank you for taking me out, I needed to keep my mind off of tomorrow." He glances down at you, bright blue eyes trained on your face.

"I'm hoping you'll let me take you on another date after this mission is over." You picked up on the nervousness in his voice immediately.

"König, I don't know if you've noticed, but I kind of like you a lot… of course I'll go on another date with you." The hand that was situated in his lap began to reach out for yours, slowly moving his finger over so it would bump into the side of your hand.

"I'm really happy I met you (Y/N)." He says softly.

You smile, eyes never leaving the horizon. "I am too."

The next morning everyone was on edge. You all sat silently in the back of the truck, the usual attempt to lighten the mood vacant. As you neared your destination Ghost finally spoke up. "Team A, we're going to sweep their safe house, any hostages I want brought to me directly. Team B, you're in charge of sweeping the rest of their compound. This is a capture or kill mission, our number one priority is getting us and the hostages out safely. You glanced across the isle at König. He tried to give you a reassuring nod but you could tell how nervous he was really feeling. The truck came to a rough stop, jolting your body forward in the process. Everyone piled out and began separating into their teams. A giant gloved hand came to rest on the top of your head as König gave you a gentle pat. "Be careful out there, Bärchen." You say softly, unable to look at him knowing it would probably make you cry.

"You too Maus." He runs off to join his team.

"Come on Mickey, we got a house to clean." Soap says as he approaches you. He could tell how stressed you were feeling. Even if he didn't know the extent of your relationship with König he knew how much you cared about him. "He's gonna be alright, man's a fuckin' tank, there's no stopping him." You nodded heading off with him to handle your half of the mission. Team A consisted of you, Ghost, Johnny, Gaz, and a couple of privates from the base. Team B consisted of KorTac, Price and a few other soldiers.

"Mick, I need to know you're here with me sweetheart, you're looking a little spacey." Ghost says quietly as you wait for the perfect moment to storm the safe house.

"I'm with you lieutenant, just another day at the office." You tried your best to sound confident. To give your team the Mickey they needed right now. Soap was right, König would be fine. All of this would be over in less than an hour.

"Move in." You got your cue. You looked at Soap, the two of you exchanging an affirming nod before you made your way up to the safe house. He taps your shoulder, motioning that he'll start his sweep to the right you start to your left. You found nothing but a couple low grade officers guarding the hostages, which meant everyone incredibly dangerous was either not here or in the same building as Team B. You quickly and quietly escorted the hostages outside so you could get them some medical attention "Team A has successfully completed their sweep. Team B what's your status?" Ghost's voice booms over the comms. It was silent for a while… too long.

"Ghost, we've been hit." Price's panicked voice was the only thing you could hear. "They found out we're here."

"Do you need medical? We're heading to your location now." You readied yours as fast as you possibly could.

"Ghost, I need you to listen to me. I don't know how many men I've already lost, if you come over here your whole team could be taken out." You could hear gunfire in the background. You were going to attempt to make a run for it. You needed to help them, you needed to get out who you could. The second you tried to bolt Ghost latched onto your collar, pulling you to the ground.

"Let me go, I need to help them." You say through gritted teeth, fighting back tears.

"Mick, you know that's only going to make things worse." Ghost jumps back on comms. "Price, do you have a casualty count?"

"At least four." Any drive you had to stand back up left your body. That was half of their team, just gone.

"Anyone from KorTac?" Ghost remained motionless by your side, prepared to drag you out of there if needed.

"I don't know, I lost them in the fire fight." You were shaking. Throughout all your years in the military you had never felt like this during a mission.

"We'll rendezvous back at base, I need to get these hostages medical attention." Price confirmed and the comms went silent again. Ghost hauled you to your feet, attempting to steady you by the shoulders when you almost fell over. "Hold it together Mickey, come on." His gruff voice shocks you back to reality. You felt like you were in a fog, you were going through the motions of securing the hostages but you weren't really there. The second you were back to base you made your way to the common room, sat down, and waited. Your teammates tried everything they could think of to comfort you but it wasn't any use. All you wanted was König, or at the very least to know he was okay. After about an hour of waiting, Price finally found you. You stood, hurrying over to him. He looked a little worse for wear but overall he seemed fine.

"Price, is König okay?" Ghost was the first one to speak up. You couldn't bring yourself to say it knowing that there was a very high chance he didn't make it back at all.

"He was hit, but he's okay. He actually asked if I could send you down to him." You thanked Price, telling him how happy you were that he was safe but you had to go see him. You ran down to the infirmary, ignoring the calls from the nurses that you had to check in before you could enter as you pushed through the doors. You just needed to see what state he was in. You were met with the sight of König sitting up in bed, pleasantly chatting with the doctor that was going over what he would have to do for his wound care. The top half of his body was wrapped in a bandage that showed he was shot in the shoulder, sniper hood still on. His eyes landed on you and you saw his whole body relax. You waited for the doctor to leave before you approached him.

"Maus." You saw the corners of his eyes crinkle up. It was hard to be mad with the shirtless mass of muscle in front of you. You had a whole speech planned about how worried you were how he could've been seriously hurt. But now that you saw him sitting in front of you none of that really mattered. You sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, tears pricking at your eyes.

"You said you were going to be careful." Your voice cracked as you spoke. He grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." You felt the first year slip into your cheek and that was enough to open the floodgates. Your body wracked with sobs, König pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around you.

"I thought I lost you." He quietly hushed you, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for a while, both of you remaining silent until König.

"I think after my contract's up I'm going to call it." You shot up, in pure disbelief at what you were hearing. "I got hit today because I got careless. I was trying so hard to get this over with quickly to get back to you that I let my guard down. I don't want something to happen to me out in the field or have you worried like this all the time. (Y/N), I'm in love with you, I don't want to miss the opportunity to explore what we have before it even starts." Hearing him say that made you start crying all over again. Once you had finally calmed down you sat up, wiping your eyes.

"I think this might be my final tour too." You smile at him. He grabs the top of his hood, fully pulling it off his head. You gently caress his face, "you're so handsome under there." You hiccup a laugh through your remaining tears.

"I'm glad you think so." He chuckles. He holds you close, lips gently finding yours for what was the softest first kiss you had ever had. König gently cradled you in his arms, taking his time to fully memorize every single aspect of what kissing you felt like. 

"I love you Bärchen." You say softly. He gazed down at you with the most loved filled expression of adoration.

"I love you too, mein mouse." He whispers, pulling you in for one more short, sweet kiss.

[verysium]

some thought on us/reader/yn (i don’t know how to address it lol 😭) and seeing ex-boyfriend, who preferably myb cheated and now is dump struck how we got a new boyfriend/it’s been some time since last seeing ex)

um.....i'm assuming the bllk boys are the new boyfriend for this. hopefully, that's what you meant, but here you go anon:

kaiser absolutely thrives off this situation. this is the perfect chance to stroke his ego, so he's going to take full advantage of it. definitely notices your ex before you do and tugs you closer, arm wrapped around your waist, nose buried in your hair. obviously, you can't see his facial expression, but you can tell by the way he's smirking that he's definitely up to no good. when your ex finally realizes that your new boyfriend is THE michael kaiser, he's like... 😏 that's right bitch. keep ogling. y/n's doing so much better without you. even better if your ex is actually a fan of kaiser. his sadistic ass will not let that go. you want my autograph or something? oh wait...sorry i don't give out autographs to losers. deliberately sets out on a mission to make your ex's day an absolute hell, and he's smug about it too. once your ex is gone, he looks back and asks...so did i do good? no, you don't need to thank me. i'm already thanking myself. (he's so stupid....i love him.)

sae's reaction is encapsulated in one word. side-eye. he won't actually say anything, but the judgmental aura leeching off him is already enough to send your ex running in the opposite direction. i don't even think your interaction is going to last more than one minute because sae is just so intimidating. the entirety of japan already knows who he is, and compared to him, your ex is an absolute nobody. poor guy will probably never recover especially after seeing you and sae on the front of every tabloid, magazine, and news channel. his ego is broken, masculinity in ruins, reputation in tatters. and honestly.....serves him right.

rin holds an even stronger grudge than you do. he never lets any personal slight go without consequence. probably still holding every single mistake your ex has made in the past five years over his head. what did you even see in him? he's a lukewarm piece of shit. again....like sae, i don't think you would even need to say anything because rin's death glare already says enough.

shidou needs a restraining order because i don't think your ex is going to make it out alive. probably goes straight for the throat too. he genuinely enjoys seeing other people in pain whether physically or emotionally. will probably make out with you right in front of your ex just to fuck with his mind a little bit. hand placement is key. he places one hand behind your head and the other one grasps your ass. uses a lot of tongue. leaves you winded with starry eyes and swollen lips before he maniacally grins at your ex. he definitely enjoyed that a little too much.

barou has a quiet but menacing aura. he's very tall, so i think he would likely tower over your ex. and uh...have you seen his physique? he would probably cross his arms, and his biceps would bulge, and he would whisper in the lowest, most chilling tone: you got a fucking problem? and that's about all it takes because your ex may be a wimp but at least he has enough self-preservation to know you don't mess with someone like barou. probably kisses you on the forehead after that and his voice softens just tad...you okay, baby? (dfhkjsdhf i just blushed)

nagi wouldn't really care. nothing fazes him, especially not your ex because he's in the past now and that makes him irrelevant. but he definitely does not back down from subtly throwing some insults. oh...him? he's just y/n's ex. a weak guy not worth the hassle. don't bother. if your ex is stupid enough to actually confront him though....he's not going to hold back. shut up. you sure bark a lot for someone with no bite. pet store's two blocks away. maybe you should check out a new collar. lmao nagi can be painfully rude when he wants to be.

[findafight]

Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.