#also really fucking fabulous I mean look at her

[m4lexxx67]

Trying to draw Lettie Lutz from The Greatest Showman for a deck of multifandom tarot cards. Usually I hate drawing curls but she's worth it ^^

[widevibratobitch]

the side effects of experiencing all this funeral stuff from this up close is honestly that im just starting to plan my own funeral in my head to entertain myself and it also kinda stopped me from being suicidal because i realised no one but me could do it right

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Four

(Or, Alastor Learns Hell Hath No Fury…you know the rest)

18+ Minors DNE, Smuttempt below.

Alastor and you had come to a respectable agreement in a considerably quick amount of time given the fact that the two of you were hesitant to even speak to one another. He still had free reign, his excuse being that he had already navigated Hell for nearly a century virtually unscathed and was immensely powerful. He also brought up that it was just unsafe for any women to be wandering around Hell in general. All the unscrupulous, unsavoury, and demented sinners loved to continue their victim count in the underworld. You were a target simply because of your gender. And gentlemen did not let women they knew walk straight into danger. He mentioned that was partially the reason Nifty stuck around him so long. He provided a safe area for her to be herself without being exploited due to her very strange mind. His concern for the little woman was touching, since you had assumed he had no good bone in his body.

You, however, would stick around the hotel mostly, but you were not limited to just your room as Alastor had first suggested. You would also be able to leave, but Alastor would be your chaperone. Having him around almost guaranteed distance from other sinners due to their fear of the Radio Demon. You could also leave with Husk, but only locally, and he would call for Alastor immediately if you would try anything funny. Alastor had told Husk about your attack and used your trauma as a reason for your constant babysitting. He wasn’t pleased about his new duties, but he certainly couldn’t refuse the Overlord.

And for a couple of weeks, this arrangement worked just fine for you. You didn’t suddenly need to leave the hotel a bunch, you preferred staying in anyway. Part of it was still just that you were still freshly dead, didn’t have to work, and there were enough things around this old building that needed attention. You started reorganising the library as a job, remembering that the state of it was less than desirable. It was still a mess, and currently it felt as if you were trying to polish a turd making it look presentable. Charlie’s father was arriving soon, called as a last resort to help her with the hotel. Pressure was on this morning, since the woman was clearly trying to work through some emotional baggage waiting regarding her father. Taking a step back and realising there really was no chance, you just wrote ‘Women’s bathroom’ on a piece of paper and fingers crossed the Devil was a gentleman. As you were sticking the paper on one of the double doors into the room, Angel walked by and barked out a laugh.

”You really think that’s gonna keep the man out, toots? Props for trying I guess.” Ending with a wink. You chuckled back in return, explaining your reason. ”I mean, he doesn’t really need to check every room out, but what if he’s a total perv? I know lots of powerful men that are totally into that shit! Overlords, even. Right Smiles?” Angel had directly that last statement to Alastor, who had come up from behind him and was now looking at your sign, perplexed. He waved his fingers and your sign turned into a shiny gold placard, and raised an eyebrow looking to your face for a reaction. You smiled at the sign, and nodded your head in his direction.

“Quite right to keep him out of as many rooms as possible, my dear. Fabulous idea indeed.” Oh yes, let us let him think you did this for an actual reason, and not because you get distracted trying to fix whatever Dewey Decimal system they were using in Hell. The three of you heard Charlie call for everyone to come into the foyer to wait, and you and Angel walked side by side talking about what you thought Lucifer might be like.

“Well, he’s supposed to be God’s favourite, and beautiful - like the Morningstar, so he has to be hot as fuck!”

”Mama warned me that Satan would be attractive, but since he’s not Satan and life doesn’t make any sense anymore, I figure she meant the Devil. Charlie’s gorgeous so I wouldn’t be surprised.” You stated. Angel was nodding while pursing his lips.

“Charlie’s mother is some kinda bombshell though, a total dime. I’ve never seen her but I do believe you gotta be to keep the Devil occupied.” He winked at you again, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “Don’t be a pig, Angel, try to keep that under control for the time being.”

”Hey, Fat Nuggets and I have more in common than you know, girl.” Both of you laughed at his remark, and suddenly, Charlie interrupted your little chat-

“Okay Everyone! It’s Showtime!” Opening the door to Lucifer Morningstar. The Devil.

You blasted off your confetti cannon at the same time as Husk, welcoming him to the foyer. Alastor stood alongside Charlie and it was clear from his facial expressions he was unimpressed. Like, so obvious. Eventually Charlie introduced him to everyone in the group, ending on you, where Lucifer had grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth to politely put a kiss to the back of it, much to your surprise. You smiled in return, while he made a remark about how cute some sinners could be. Eyes darting to Alastor, it was evident that he was seething about the special attention. Putting your hand back to your side, you thanked him for the compliment and allowed Charlie to attempt to continue her tour.

However a chandelier disaster had surprised you all, and it broke Lucifer out into song. You could see where Charlie got it from.

See this part of hell you would never understand. Occasionally, people would just break out into song, like a musical. It was generally entertaining, but as a spectator sometimes you were unsure what to do. You could all hear the music, so this was something that happened with intention. Still did not make sense overall. Alastor had taken over Lucifer’s song and as it spiralled out of control swapping between the two men, you hunkered over to the wall to enjoy the show. Before long, an interloper broke in and took charge over the song. It was a female sinner, and it was clear that she and Alastor had history together.

Always one to keep to a strict schedule, Alastor reminded Charlie of the tour as he redirected the new addition. The two of them, along with Vaggie and Lucifer went their own way. You joined Angel at the bar with Alastors friend, Mimzy, and were swept up in her storytelling of Alastors history before and beginning in hell. You could tell that Husk and Mimzy had some of their own history, and it was not good. Suddenly, the main doors were busting against the frame, with yelling for the new demon coming from outside, and they had the entire building shaking. Very quickly, things went very downhill, but you were quickly pulled aside with a shadowy tendril and placed at the very back of the room, the tendril blocking you in with whatever furniture had become askew.

Of course. You were a liability. But he couldn’t very well instruct you out loud to stay safe, things were still on the down low. Like buried 20 feet deep down low. You peeked over the edge of a table that had been placed in front of you to watch the fight go down. Alastor had become…evil, to put it simply. Charlie was holding rage in at her fathers words, Vaggie was checking on staff. Pentious was running for his own eggboys to find cover. Truly never a dull moment here. You sat down and pushed yourself to the wall, hitting it with your back and pulling your knees up to your chest, holding them to you with your arms.

Almost as quick as it came, the noise was silenced. Clearly Alastor had promptly dealt with the threat, coming out a winner, and was correct about his capabilities regarding avoiding injuries. You stood up, and made eye contact with the Radio Demon, the slightest nod in approval coming from him. You climbed over the makeshift blockade, and headed towards the front door to join Angel and Husk outside. Charlie and her father had walked past you, Charlie clearly upset with him. You could tell another song was coming out, very personal this time, so you were eager to get a good distance away from it.

As you approached him, Angel had a sly smirk and a raised brow at you. “What's that look for?” You inquired, on the defence to his judgement.

”Well don’t you look fresh and clean as ever - don’t think I didn’t catch Smiles over there keeping you sa~fe.”

You scoffed in return. “Alastor is just a gentleman, he knows I’m an absolute klutz, remember how I busted myself up looking for you that one night? And then again when I missed the last step of the stairs and ate shit on my chin?” You were gesturing like a mad woman, hoping your quick and reasonable response would be believed. You only received a sceptical look in return. “Yea, I dunno if he’s that kind of a gentleman, doll. He generally doesn’t give a shit if any of us hurt ourselves. Look at Nif!” You didn’t have to look at the demon to know she was probably up to something no good.

“Nifty likes getting into trouble, and especially loves pain-“, “I love pain!” She interjected with a menacing laugh afterwards. “See! She’s a big fan. He’s simply a gentleman.” But Husk gave you a very sceptical look. He was suspicious.

“Keeping the fairer sex safe has always been a gentleman’s priority, Angel Dust. And this one in particular does like to get herself into trouble. I could not possibly allow any of our staff to be exposed to danger unwillingly.” He said, agreeing with your statement.

“You didn’t seem to give a shit about Mimzy, though.” Husk said, giving the taller demon a look with attitude.

Alastor hummed briefly, “Mimzy is more than capable of handling herself, Husker - I know her to be very capable of keeping herself safe. Why, it was why she came here! I am well known to take care of those who need help.” The look he gave the bartender was one of contention. The tension between the two was strong, and you and Angel were simply unwilling spectators in this battle. “Yea, but not without an exchange - you don’t do shit for free, everyone knows that too.” Alastors eyes thinned at him, and Husk shut his mouth after that, but it was clear he thought he had made a point before Alastor had turned on his chipper Radio persona to reply.

“I enjoy keeping people on their toes! It is a good way to keep the boredom at bay. Hah-hah!”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, avoiding eye contact from any of the men around you entirely. You watched as Lucifer gave Charlie a firm hug and left. The girl looked pleased as she informed Vaggie that they would be meeting in Heaven for a meeting. Hopefully things would continue to go her way.

Angel would simply not drop it though, just as you thought you and Alastor had made it out of the woods, he just started all over. “You got a thing for her, Smiles? You stare at her a lot too, don’t think I don’t catch ya all the time. Ya gotta crush?” Oh, Angel was just a couple drinks in already. Damn his weak constitution for strong liquor. The room became chilly, and Alastor went on a polite-ish tirade- “How dare you insult me with the notion of ever feeling anything for this pathetic creature other than pity. She is incapable of keeping herself out of trouble, but since Charlie seems quite fond of her it would do me no good to have her worry over this little doe. She is exactly as she appears - weak, scared, and lacking any form of self preservation. It is clear why she came to hell as a doe, because she is no better than basic prey. Think before you decide to insult me again.” Mmmkay. Not polite-ish at all.

“Ex-cuse me?!” You exclaimed, defensive. “You’re also a deer!” Ah yes great, what a good comeback. He sneered at you - “My appearance is laced with irony, my dear. You fulfilled your position on earth for what you are. I was simply cursed with my appearance as punishment. This is, after all, hell.” You made a few noises as interjection, but your face was beginning to burn with embarrassment. Alastor quickly turned away, obviously to avoid anyone getting a good look at his face flushing, announcing he needed to get up to his radio tower to be on time for his evening broadcast. “Such good news to be announced! I simply cannot leave anyone waiting for me!” And he swiftly disappeared into his shadows, leaving the 3 of you sitting at the bar amidst the mess. You jumped to your feet off the stool and did a little stomp and noise of frustration.

“How fucking dare him I- I swear, I’m gonna…UGH.” You grabbed your hair on either side of your head before running your hands down your face.

“What toots, what could you even do to him? He’s like, super spooky. And strong, you heard that broad earlier. He basically eats overlords for breakfast. Guess it’s easy bein’ a dick down here if you got no weaknesses.” Angel said, putting his glass on the counter and getting up himself to head upstairs.

Then it clicked. Oh-ho-ho. But he did have a weakness. A great big weakness. What a shame if someone were to abuse their power while said dick was perhaps engaged in something important…like being on the air. You laughed darkly, smiling wide. Pathetic, eh? Well, you could get him to your level. And it would be so easy, too. You turned on your heel and ran past Angel to the stairs, shouting goodnight to the lingering bodies in the foyer. You had a date with a broadcast.

Once upstairs you locked the door, and triple checked it was shut. You turned out most of the lights and turned on the warmest lamp for ambiance. Angel was always getting free PR from all sorts of businesses, most of them involved in the sex trade. And many of the free items were designed for people with a different set of sex organs than him. For some reason, about half of Hell thought Angel Dust was a girl, confused about the chest fluff. So not long ago Angel had ‘gifted’, i.e ‘ dumped’ a load of different vibrators and dildos your way.’No point lettin’em go to waste doll face!’ He had said, laughing at your red face once you had realised what he had given you. You had promptly thrown the box of intimidating items under your bed while he was trying to convince you rubbing one out was good for the soul. Something about ‘loving yourself’ being a very important step in redemption. Most nights, he was like a very annoying older brother who only made inappropriate jokes at your expense.

But tonight, oh-hoh, that box was coming out of the dark. You rifled through the objects, startled by some of the more…complicated items. Some had 2 wands, or curvy bits, some had 3 - all very intimidating. Your hand had landed on a smaller box, one with an easy to grab handle and a white rubber circle on one side at the end. You put the batteries in it, turning it on. Confused, since all your vibrators were pretty plain in the overworld, you put your hand to the white rubber. Oh! Ooohh~~.

Suction. Good god, hell thought of everything filthy, now hadn’t it? But already, just the thought of using it made you squish your legs together. You put it down on the bed. Everything needed to be perfect. You turned the radio in your room on, Alastors broadcast filling the silence. It was a musical interlude at this moment, which was perfect because you could assume he was just ignoring the little moment of arousal that passed through you just then. Putting the box and all of the more advanced items back under the bed, you stripped down and threw yourself under the covers.

Usually a date with yourself was a little more spontaneous. And not for such a vengeful reason, either. But the thought of getting him back like this, him knowing how you felt and what you were probably doing, the effect it would have on him was invigorating. And there was nothing he could do about it, either, he was not one to skip a broadcast. His ego simply wouldn’t allow it. You didn’t focus on the many ways that this could (would) blow up in your face. You were a little too excited in more ways than one now.

You started with feather touches on your clavicle, using the allusion of a faint hand being someone else’s to spark the match. You grazed over your breasts, lightly pulling on a nipple and bringing it to a peak. You put your fingers in your mouth, and pinched your nipple again, blowing cold air on it, resulting in a full body of goosebumps. By this time, Alastor was back on the air.

”Well was that not a swell piece of music? From a better time, I say! Now, focusing more on today’s great news of a meeting with the higher ups in heaven-“

Your fingers had drifted down your stomach to below your waistline and further. Small circles were being drawn on your upper thigh, heading in a spiral down to your core. You could feel how puffy you were getting, radiating heat under the blankets, and a finger rubbing over your slit bringing wetness up to your clit was clear that you were more turned on than usual. It had been a while, after all.

“-Morningstar is a…determined young lady-“ You inserted a finger, “*cough* how can we not follow in her stead? Give redemption a chance and-“ a second, only to come out and rub around your clit in a slow and steady circle. You had turned the little vibrator on at this point, bringing it down to your throbbing heat. “Come down to the …t-to the Hazbin Hotel! We’ve - hng -“

He lost his words just as soon as you had placed the little rubber ring around your clit, the strong sucking sensation making your hips jerk up from the over-stimulation immediately. You were certainly more sensitive in your new form over all, but sweet baby Jesus the sensations you were feeling were so strong you lost your breath.

As did Alastor. He coughed again, the noise coming out strong on the radio. “Apologies, listeners! It appears as if …as if our broadcast is having a diff-‘“ he took a haggard breath as you could feel the pressure building rapidly. This was accelerating far quicker than you had imagined. The toy was so strong that you didn’t even remember what the goal was anymore, it didn’t matter. Your arousal was hot and burning and it took over your mind entirely. You were matching Alastor's ragged breaths, his static taking over his voice in an attempt to cover his strange broadcast.

You were building up, up, up, until finally the dam from your little toy broke your walls down into a strong, powerful orgasm. Strongest one you have ever had. Your cunt was clenching, clit protesting at the continued abuse it was taking from the little rubber circle. You rode it out, lowering the speed as your jerking began to subside. You turned off the machine and just laid in the bed with arms at either side of your body. you could feel your wetness trailing down, surely leaving a patch of shame on your sheets.

Moments after your release, the static faded from the radio, with Alastor announcing “It appears as if we’ve had some interruption with our signal, save your ears for other nights, listeners!” Before ending the show abruptly with an upbeat jazzy instrumental. It wasn’t long before you heard a loud slam of something from the room right across the hall before you chuckled at your payback, dozing off to sleep. Best part, you thought as you were fading into slumber, was that he most certainly kept his smile through that entire ordeal. Payback can be a bitch.

And she was coming for you soon.

You wanted to play dirty? He could play dirty. You would need to be reminded not to mess with the Radio Demon…

Alastor was furious. Livid, he had thrown a few pieces of furniture into the swampy marsh within his room. How dare you compromise his show that way. To do something that…lewd as he was on the air? How very dare her. If you weren’t so intrinsically linked to his livelihood, he would skin you alive. He generally kept his mind off of such carnal pleasures, considering them a waste of time and energy - what was the point, anyway? One could not procreate in Hell as a sinner, so there was no reason why one should engage in sexual activities. That was what he thought for himself, anyway. And it had worked for him for nearly a century. Decades over the amount that you had been alive overworld! Seething, he shredded one of his sitting chairs, the stuffing shooting out of the claw marks. His antlers were proudly massive, body big, but his pants still had evidence of younterference with his night.

_____________

Buckle up readers, it is beginning. I’m reading like a thousand shitty romance books to figure out how writers can describe genitalia now my search history is ruined.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016 @mo-0-o @blakeaha @mutifandomkid @ministarheaven @nightingale0603 @loadedwafflefries @rizzscary @bishiglomper @vividachromatic @fluffy-koalala @mkaella @readergirlstuff

[strawberrysainz]

secret garden. charles leclerc

“ charles joining you on holiday was definitely not planned. you begin to have small revelations. is it the wine, or are you truly thinking about his lips on yours? ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning— crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, slightly mature. some shitty french, italian, spanish.

word count: 4.1k

Your book seems to begin to blur as the lethargy of a Sunday at five o’clock tends to do what it does best; make you sleepy.

That, and your previous glass of wine seemed to be catching up to you.

The universe sends a saviour in the shape of your friend Lila: she pokes your stomach so you that look up through your sunglasses. You shut the book. It’s something about a twenty-something girl in the 1960s, who joins a hippie cult, and the facts make your head spin (you really couldn’t be arsed to focus while the wine makes you drowsy). You pause the playlist on your phone to look expectantly up at her. She’s a little bit drunk too; her hair is mussed up from laying down on the lounger. The Italian sun was perfect today, white wine flowing while you both tanned the day away. Lila had invited you to her fiancé’s (he worked for Ferrari) house in Tuscany for a week in the summer. It was picturesque and romantic, but he had to work for much of it and she wanted to spend the time with a person who was there constantly. With a getaway promised years ago, she finally followed through, and your second day was just as lovely as the first.

“Up for padel?”

“You mean… le sport?” You answer, giggling slightly. “The wine is in my head now, ma chérie.” You tease affectionately and she begins to tidy up her things to go inside. “Yes, le sport,” she mocks, “‘Tonio invited us to play.” “With who as the fourth?” You ask curiously; Antonio had lamented all day yesterday that he was ‘third wheeling, alone’. Lila pauses to focus on the question, delightfully tipsy, and her hand tries to fold the towel as she thinks. “He invited Charles to come stay too, they will train and plot for the season’s second half together. Now we will third wheel on them.”

You nod then, smiling, and pack up, giggling to yourself about the looks you’ll get from those two when you turn up fabulously drunk. “Is it a hazard to play padel with athletes when the wine makes me slow?”

Lila cackles, bumping her sunglasses back up on her face, sliding on her sundress. “Tonio might flip out on us for being useless, he’s so competitive against Charles. Charles is too nice to say anything. I hope I am his partner.” She snorts, and you laugh too.

“I hope Charles brought proper drinks too. Last time we had a party at Lando’s, that tequila he brought…” you sigh at the memory. “I hope he’s also on summer mode. No offence chérie, but your boy cannot switch off unless he has a friend.” You poke fun at the fact that he will only drink one glass of wine with supper and refuse to get drunk as fuck with the two of you. Lila hits you with the pillow.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

You two Uber to the padel courts Antonio frequents in Italy, too scared to drive (rightfully so, you’re a bit shitfaced). You drink bottles and bottles of water, staring into each other’s eyes to try and sober up, but the dopey looks make you burst out laughing each time.

You end up napping for ten minutes, trying to sleep off the wine. Then you pat each other’s faces, blinking and blinking, but you end up giving up. Padel with two competitive men will be more fun not sober. When the driver drops you off, he tells you he is praying for whoever you speak to in the next minutes. You two end up in tears of laughter from God knows what. It ends with a hefty euro tip, some swear words and catching Lila from falling onto the street. Eventually you make it to the courts, picking up the two racquets the boys left for you on a bench, and you stare at Lila. “I hope we survive this.” You say seriously, and she salutes. You are in peals of laughter when you reach their court.

Charles stares at the two of you with amusement as you nearly trip over the entrance. “Avez-vous bu tous les deux?” He asks, and he receives just a wink from you, pointing at the small wine stain on Lila’s shirt.

He stifles a cackle as Lila goes to kiss Antonio sloppily, who kisses her reluctantly before gently scolding her in Italian. “Tonio, mon rêleuse, we apologise. We have only received your invitation when the wine was flowing. We also bring a level of entertainment.” You announce, brandishing the racquet. Your bluntness makes even Antonio smile. “Alright, alright. I was planning to put you two together, but maybe we’ll each pair with a drunkard, no?” He nods at Charles, who smiles.

“I’ll look after my girlfriend.” He adds, and Lila groans. “No! I wanted to play with Charles, he’s better at padel.” Antonio looks the most hurt you’ve ever seen a man be.

“Le spectacle de merde.” You whisper, at least you think it is a whisper, to Charles. “Ouais,” he giggles. You smack his arm affectionately. “Tu es tellement adorable,” you say, pursing your lips in a sweet way, and he hugs you with one arm, rubbing your back. “Laisse le vin continuer à parler, oui?”

The way in which you solidly keep hitting the ball on the wire makes him laugh.

Antonio cannot keep himself from raging at the two of you being useless, and tries to calm himself down; Lila falls on the court laughing at his aggressive muttering. You cry with laughter every time she misses the ball (which is more often than not) which leads Charles to request a glass of the wine you had been drinking. Padel has never been more fun, in your opinion: your grip gets looser and your shots stronger with every point. Charles carries your team, and you exchange a fist bump every time. Eventually you two win 11-10, and Lila jumps over the net clumsily to congratulate you both. Carlos settles for a reluctant high five. “Antonioooo…” you drag out his name, and the ridiculous grief of a tiny loss on his face makes you grin. “Can you make your tagliatelle?”

Lila clamours for it too, and he groans. “Whatever.” You two jump into each other’s arms; you end up getting another Uber back to shower and change so the boys can stop and grocery shop as well as buy you drinks, ‘not wine!’ under your instruction. When they get back, you’re slightly more sober, having showered and changed into a bikini (for a night swim) and a linen set over it.

Lila is asleep with her head on the kitchen counter while Charles pours you a rum and raspberry. You’re grateful for the different drink, the headache beginning to pound its way into your head. Antonio starts on the pasta, and you three talk about how their training was, how your poolside day went, the tourists in the city this week, paddock gossip and Charles’ new piano song, which he plays a recording of for you.

“That’s very good,” you compliment, and he blushes. Antonio is busy stirring the sauce while you have revelations. Charles clears his throat, locking the phone, and you set the table. “I’m making scones tonight,” you announce, and in the early stages of waking, Lila cheers with a yawn.

“With what?” Antonio challenges, and you wink. “I brought all the ingredients with. Jam and whipping cream. We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.” “Gotta train harder for that!” Lila jokes, flicking Charles’ arm, who giggles in that stupidly funny way.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Stomachs full and content, you and Lila float in the light of the pool. Occasionally you swat a mosquito out of your face, and your second R&R slowly slips away. “Still making the scones?” She asks, and you yawn. “Merde.”

You both laugh.

“Ti piace Cha?”

You stare at her.

“Sei pazzo? He’s most likely got some European model waiting for him in Monaco.”

“Ho visto come ti guardava.”

Your head hurts.

“Ma chérie, Cha could not look at me twice. There is nothing.” Lila makes a disapproving sound, and you splash her.

“Ho sempre pensato che non avrebbe mai potuto-“

Charles and Antonio, holding beers, make their way from the house to the pool. You shut up. You notice that they’ve also been drinking quite heavily, like you two- Charles is much too giggly, and Antonio has that drunken seriousness to him. They sit on the edge of the pool. “Where are those scones?” Antonio asks, and you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make them fresh in the morning.” You yawn, making Charles do the same.

“Cazzata!” He replies, and you laugh with Lila. “Promise. I want to go horse riding tomorrow morning, the farm across the way said I could when we went with the dogs.” Lila shakes her head. “¡No puedo enfrentarme a un caballo, especialmente contigo!”

You snort. Antonio downs the beer. Charles is staring at the moon. “You okay?” You raise your eyebrows. “Just remembering last time I went riding.”

There is an awkward silence.

You can’t gauge his tone, and you make eye contact with Lila, frowning. “Well, if anyone wants to come, I would love to have them.” You clear your throat, and Antonio shakes his head. “Gym tomorrow.” Charles groans, putting down the beer. “Putain!” “You’ll have scones when you finish then,” you smile, and make to get out. “I’m going to bed if I want to get up at seven.”

Everyone wishes you a good night, and you make your way up to your room, still uneasy about Charles at the pool.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Your third day in Tuscany continues as you walk into the house; you are greeted by the dogs. The door was unlocked - a classic sign of Antonio leaving - so you knew the boys had left. You opened the large windows after taking off your boots, letting the fresh morning air in. You yawn as you put on a playlist, beginning to bake as the soft sounds of music accompany you to it.

About fifteen minutes later the scones are in the oven, and you set out some things to eat them with - as the plates clink, you hear Lila walking downstairs. “Hi,” she drags out the syllable - you smile at her ruffled brown hair - a dog is leaping up at her - and you wish her a good morning, making coffee for the both of you. She comes to sit on a bar stool, and you grimace at the remembrance of last night - where she slept for a moment or so - and she seems to recall the same. “How did you get up at seven?” She laughs. “My head was killing me.”

You laugh. “I have no clue.” “Wasn’t Charles weird last night? Or was I just drunk.” “No, he was so weird.” You are hungry to gossip (you had gone to bed before you could debrief.) “What the fuck was he on?”

Lila covers her mouth, laughing. Yet again, before you can gossip, the loud sound of the front door opening stops you. You groan and take the scones out of the oven. “Good morning!” Antonio says aloud, and you nod at the two walking in.

Lila kisses him on the cheek. “We have been hard at work.”

You grin. “How was neck day?” Charles rolls his eyes. “As incredible as you think it was.”

You laugh then, putting the hot scones on a plate. “Merde, did you do these from scratch? That’s so good.” “You burn eggs and toast, mate. Anything is so good in your eyes.” Antonio nudges Charles, who blushes furiously and smacks his arm.

You stare at Lila. She mouths some unfathomable sentence to you and you shrug as Antonio reaches for a scone. Your phone starts ringing, interrupting this strange situation, and you answer it. “Salut maman.” You answer.

“Ma chérie, comment est la Toscane? Les bons jours d'été avec toi me manquent, mon amour.”

You make a face that’s screwed up with childish embarrassment. “Tu me manques et la famille aussi, oui ? Je dois revenir en France pour visiter.”

“Papa t'envoie du champagne des cousins, et nous allons faire livrer des fleurs. Notre fille nous manque.”

“Pourquoi tant d'amour ?” You laugh.

“Sans raison.” She says innocently, and you stare at Lila, confused.

“Ton frère va se marier!”

“Quoi!” You shout, grasping your chest.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The news of your brother’s engagement leaves you still slightly concerned as Charles hands you some sort of cocktail. You take a sip and grimace at the ratio of rum to whatever else is in there. Charles laughs. “Haven’t they been together for a while?”

You shake your head, detailing that you’d met his fiancé - albeit a nice man - only once before. Antonio laughs. Lila smacks his arm. “You haven’t proposed yet, you cannot laugh.” Antonio’s face is a picture as you gasp for breath with laughter.

The sun sets on a slow evening as you laze by the pool with these people; you adore being in their company, you realise. You are still shaking your head with shock. “I can’t believe my brother is the first sibling to be married,” you grimace, and Charles laughs. “Which Leclerc will marry first, you think?” You ask him. “I don’t know. I think Lorenzo, because Arthur’s young. Definitely not me.” He emphasises with a face, and you laugh.

Hours later, you tell stories of your and Lila’s university days while the boys laugh, details of hookups and too much alcohol paint pictures of pure comedy. “Anyone want a scone?” You announce, going to make one in the kitchen. “I’ll come with,” Charles says politely, leaving the couple to themselves.

You end up pouring another R&R while you spread jam and cream, not eager to experience your hangover tomorrow morning. “Je suis un putain d’alcoolique.” Charles dismisses the thought. “S'il vous plaît, vous n'êtes pas spécial.”

You laugh. “It’s nice that you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you better.” You say off topic, switching to English, the languages getting mixed up in your slowed down mind. Charles laughs and pats your arm. “A drink makes you very emotional,” he jokes, and you make a face. “Be quiet.” “Let’s take a picture!” You switch up, mind spinning, and Charles is laughing as he takes pictures of you making scones with slow limbs, dancing, smiling, spinning.

You take a 0,5 of him in return, laughing at the weird expression on his face. You take selfies, air kissing, pulling faces, until your phone tells you you’re out of storage, and the moment is over, lipstick on his face. You laugh. He’s quiet.

“I can wipe it off,” you say quietly, trying not to ruin the comfortable energy in the kitchen. He lets you do it tenderly with a baby wipe, big expressive eyes staring into yours, wide with the relaxation of alcohol flowing through him. He leans in and you lurch back, shocked at the prospect of you two.

He pretends like he didn’t do anything, the little shit, and your eyes narrow as you pinch his ear. He cries out in pain, and tries to get you back, but you’re running with the scones in one hand and the drink in the other, cackling into the dark night, the comfort of the warmth.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The next morning is rough.

You’re woken up with a lurching stomach, violently hungover. You decide a swim under the Italian sun is going to help, and change, going to the pool. Antonio is there, swimming laps, and you hover awkwardly around the pool before getting in. He greets you softly, not wanting to disturb the birds chirping down at the vineyard and the peace of the morning. “There’s this song,” you say, dipping your head into the cool water, relishing this delightful feeling that comes with the activity of swimming like a child. “I used to listen to it every day of my last year of uni. It’s this song that makes me feel so great inside. And I realise that I feel that way when I’m with all of you. Thank you for inviting me.” Antonio looks touched, as much as a guy could at that revelation. “You’ve still got three days with me. That could change your mind.”

You laugh, diving underwater.

From the kitchen window, Lila and Charles are talking, unbeknownst to you. She grabs his arm aggressively as he moves to take the fresh cup of coffee. “Do you like her?” He jumps with fright. “Merde- she’s very nice?”

Lila raises her eyebrows.

He groans. “You aren’t going to ask me if I like like her as if I’m twelve.” “Charles!” She folds her arms, and he casts his gaze to you lazing in the pool.

“No.” He says stubbornly, and he might have convinced her but he hasn’t convinced himself. Lila lets out a huff as she turns back to the breakfast she’s making; he looks down at the floor.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles offers you wine. You nearly smack the bottle out of his hand. “No.”

The early afternoon is the precursor to your declaration of sobriety for the day; you and Lila take the dogs for another walk, getting dragged by their leashes as they leap and bound. You end up at the gym with her afterwards, sweating out your fatigue, and you try not to stare at Charles as he and Antonio walk in. Another game of padel is offered afterwards, and you two accept, playing away yet another lovely day and beginning of the evening. You’re much better at padel when you’re sober.

Then Antonio and Charles want to go clubbing, and you agree wearily, going back with them to change into some little strappy top and skirt. You have never decided your stance on clubbing - you love a night out somewhere, but the thought of it annoys you now, the prospect of a night in after a long bath sounding much better.

You and Lila pretend you’re back in your uni days, dark eyeshadow and dramatic makeup, perfume stinking up the room. You laugh at the two of you as you slip on some high heels, red lipstick everywhere, mascara accidentally smudging as you absentmindedly wipe your face.

You fix it before you’re running down to the car when you hear Antonio shouting about your tardiness. It’s a 4x4, and you slide chaotically into the middle seat next to Charles, Lila hopping in afterwards, your knee touching Charles’, skirt riding up. You let out a breath as Antonio has a bit of a nostalgic moment - he met Lila on a night just like this, with you two, at a club in Madrid.

“I feel nineteen again,” you laugh, seven years ago finding you again, the smell of Charles’ cologne rooting you back in the present. The driver is chattering on about Ferrari as you get Charles to take pictures of you and Lila, posing, then judging the pictures, high-fiving him for his great photography skills. You post one to your story, all wide eyes and pouty lips, and your followers begin to reply things about all those years ago.

You’re at the club twenty minutes later, a Khalid song sending you out of the car. You grab Lila’s arm and hug her, intensely nostalgic. Charles demands more pictures of you - Antonio agrees - you two must look good. He takes more, and then you’re all taking photos in the street light, and you’re handing your phone to some random girl who takes photos of all of you. She mumbles something in Italian and Charles thanks her very much before you’re all bundled into the club.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles comes to drape his arm over your shoulder an hour later, sweaty, and he’s got lip gloss on his lips. You point at your own lips pointedly and he exclaims something that’s lost in the noise. He lifts up his shirt to wipe his sticky lips and your gaze is caught on his abs as his hand brushes his chest. You look away hurriedly.

A dull ache propels you onto the dance floor, and some guy leans in to kiss you and you let him, annoyed and jealous. But his breath smells terrible, stale, and you’re pulling away, shuddering, and run to the bar for some water.

You’re still retching like a cat with a hairball ten minutes later when Charles finds you again, and he laughs with confusion. You roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you shout in his ear, and he follows you, a hand ghosting your back. You shiver and run out into the heat.

You pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and you light one hurriedly, the taste of that guy still horrid in your mouth.

You offer the cig, lipstick-stained, and Charles hesitates before you shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, and you shrugged. “Only when I’m out.”

He nods then; you lift up the cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag, eyes shining outside the fluorescent light of the club. You breathe, and you can see a teenager standing beside you instead of a man in his twenties, sneaking a smile and a smoke in secret.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

It’s 2:26. You scroll on your phone as Charles talks lowly on the phone beside you (Leila and Antonio found some friends and decided to stay). You stare out at the moon, the light highlighting your face as you look back at Charles briefly. He’s already looking, and smiles slowly, bashful to have been caught. You can’t hide a smile.

His hand is laying tentatively on the middle seat, and your hand is on your knee. You both stare.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

He’s pulling out a bottle of wine as you tumble into the house, the night welcoming you back to the villa. Your eyes are wide and his focussed on the glasses in his hand, walking carefully out onto the patio. You fall into a slightly uncomfortable metal chair and he pours a glass in the dark, squinting as you hear some crickets. You accept a glass with a quiet thanks and he sits down next to you clumsily, and the wine sloshes out onto his shirt and he curses quietly. You grin.

One of the dogs pad out onto the wood and the click of its nails makes your nose scrunch and it tries to jump on your lap; with a groan you attempt to shove it off and Charles gets up, laughing, pushing, and somehow he ends up staring into your eyes, bending down, and some force of nature propels you to capture his lips with yours. You let out a little sigh as he wraps a hand in your hair, and he’s pulling you up and the glass is forgotten and it’s twilight hours in the dark.

The trembling anticipation of a new lover ignites a new energy there outside. You wrap an arm around his neck and you both push forward against each other. It’s the kind of kiss where everything just works; your lips slot so perfectly, and his hair feels soft beneath your hazy movements.

The dog interrupts by licking your knee, and you move backward with a shudder. He’s moving in again, shoulders taut, and his arms are smooth as your hands grasp them, bodies moving sensually under the light of the crescent moon above.

Your watch beeps and you look down to see a notification from Lila. You ignore it. Charles is instead running fluid hands over your hips, liquid gold, and you’re melting, drowning in the heavy look in his eyes. It’s as if the puzzle piece has just slotted into place. A newfound frenzy causes you to pull him slowly into the house, bare feet meeting the dark wood below. You nearly crash into a glass window before you’re in the kitchen, and he’s bending your back slightly over a counter, finding your neck with his lips, nipping, sucking, and you’re parting your lips with delight, body moving with his.

His facial hair is scruffy, and the sensation causes you to arch a little and he slams you back down. You moan.

He grins.

A hand flits up your back, under the shirt, feeling the skin, and you shiver when he rubs a thumb over a piece of your spine, and he’s leaning back to study you, cheeks pink in the dark, and he goes back in for a kiss, smiling broadly.

[leossmoonn]

Could you maybe do some head canons for like goth or alternative!reader x mike? Maybe he was intimidated when he first saw her or like Abby really likes the way she dresses and wants to borrow accessories from her and stuff? Idk this idea popped in my head you are such a good writer! 😺

yes! i’m not goth but i looked up some outfits and makeup and stuff. i know the media waters down goth style, but i hope this is what you had in mind!! this is also kind of all over the place sorry 😅

includes / warnings - reader fem, has piercings :D. hc format. after freddy’s.

————

first time mike sees you hearts shoot out his eyes like he’s in a cartoon

“what’re you staring at?” abby asks.

“uh,” mike trails off, not being able to answer as he literally locked on you. it’s when you glance over at him when his face get all red and he looks away and goes back to grocery shopping.

abby walks up to you after seeing mike’s interest and starts a conversation with you

mike tries to steer her away, but he can’t get to her before she says:

“my brother thinks you’re pretty.”

lmao if mike didn’t want to die before this, he definitely wanted to now

“oh, he does?” you grin at him.

mike visibly gulps. but he’s glad he’s closer to you and he can really see how hot you are lmao

“yeah,” he nods. “i-i really like your piercing,” he points to his own eyebrow where you have a piercing on your face.

“thank you. it’s new, actually.”

although mike was a little worried about abby running off to talk to you, in the end it was a good thing 😸

mike loves watching you do your makeup. he’ll sit there for hours staring at you for hours if he could

he loves watching your skilled hands paint eyeliner over your eyes. he likes watching you mix lipstick shades together to create the perfect shade you lay desire that day

“don’t you have to go to work?” you ask.

“i can be late if that means i get to stare at your pretty face.”

also, he’s just so impressed with how talented you are at doing makeup and will literally tell you how artistic you are just bc you know how to make a straight wing

mike loves the chunky heels and boots you wear. he likes when you tower over him 😼

not to mention, when the boots go up your thigh he lowk gets all hot and bothered by it lol

he also loves buying you new accessories to put in your piercings. the first holiday you spent together, he bought you a shit tone of necklaces and new pieces to put in your septum

mike loves taking you out. not only bc he loves showing you off in general. in his head he’s definitely walking around like “yeah i know i bagged the most beautiful woman in the world. all you other guys suck.”

but in all seriousness, he loves the dresses you put on. he always says you look like a vampire princess, and he’s not entirely wrong

the dresses you have are fabulous omg. there’s one where it all connects form a choker-like strap around your neck and has straps connecting to the sweetheart neckline of the dress (soz if this doesn’t make any sense lmfao). the dress is textured on the skirt and stops a little bit above your knees. and fuck if mike doesn’t just want to rip it off of you after also wanting to stare at you in it for all of eternity.

you also have this sleek, black, satin dress that has like a straight neckline and long sleeves and goes down to your feet.

everytime mike sees you wearing that he mouths literally waters

now, just to go back to the fact that he is super intimated when first dating you

he was so afraid he was going to be too boring for you or basic. and also just not the type guy you were looking for

but just to his luck, you think he is perfect for you

omg but in the first month or two do you two dating, i just imagine him finding out what music you like and trying to learn every word of every song to siouxsie and the banshees, specimen, sisters of mercy

it definitely does impress you and you think it’s so sweet

for your bday he definitely tries to take you to any concert he can get tickets to

now on the subject of abby, she is definitely obsessed with you

she’s always asking you to do her makeup for school, and you happily oblige!

mike always looking out for abby in his own way, so he was worried if she went to school caked with eyeliner, she would face some backlash, but he knows how happy it makes her — and you — to play with makeup

abby’s always asking mike she can get a tattoo and piercings

“abby, you just turned 11. you won’t be able to drive anytime soon, so no tattoos anytime soon.”

she’s always trying to have you convince him, but unfortunately you have to agree with mike

buuuuttt you do paint and draw designs on abby sometimes and she acts like their tattoos and that’s close enough for her until she’s older

you also buy her face piercings that hook on her nose and lip

mike does let her get her ears pierced once she promises she can handle the little needle poke and she proceeds to try and steal all your earrings lmao

luckily, you buy her copy cats of them so she can have her own

other random things:

mike definitely lets you paints his nails. this is not at all that crazy of an idea, but, it’s smth new he’s never done but he loves watching you get so excited. you can even practice nail art on him too

you have a couple of tattoos, specifically one that goes around the side of your thigh and it just makes him fall to his knees!!

Halloween you guys dress up as the Addams family !!!

so fitting cuz you’re a hot, powerful woman and mike’s like gomez: unwaveringly obsessed with you. and of course abby is wednesday hehe

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

[datingdonovan]

a/n: wake up. food's ready. just sat here for a few minutes and rehabbed an old draft that was probably based on this fabulous onceler drabble, I think? also VERY pg13... not really any explicit sex but. it's a lot about sex. my blog and my writing used to be so sfw but cece is back after her most recent troubling sexual relationship and is probably sexier than ever. he he ha ha help me. I hope you enjoy. also reader is gn but does get called beautiful so if that feels gendered or triggering to you please be aware! also mentions of tipsy/inebriated sex!!!! so dubcon in that way? I tried to make everyone not drunk drunk but if tipsy sex is slimy for you watch out for that too

10:45AM

Yamaguchi wakes up slowly, eyes halfway open, naked body warm. And then he remembers what happened. The muscles in his body all tense at once, and it takes every fiber of his being to stay still. No no no no no. That hadn't happened. Shit. That hadn't happened, right?

But it had. His palm is resting on the soft skin of your hip and despite his best efforts he's squeezing lightly, so fucking nervous, and you're squirming toward him, still asleep, smiling softly, and it had, it had happened, oh god, it had.

Fuck. His ears are ringing with anxiety. What had happened? What had happened? He hadn't drank nearly enough last night for this to possibly have fucking happened.

And the information floods his mind as you nuzzle closer to his chest, your skin flush against his, a soft kiss where your mouth meets his shoulder. You, Tsukki, Tsukki breaking up with you — meanly, meaner than was necessary. You, Yamaguchi, and Tsukki, best friends, best friends since freshman year and Tsukki dating you and Yamaguchi shutting up and enduring it and you feeling tired of Tsukki's pretentiousness and his mean jokes and you telling Yamaguchi about it and Yamaguchi telling Tsukki about it and instead of fixing it making it worse and then you. You. YOU.

You with no more Tsukki, crying into his shoulder, and saying you just want to fuck someone. You're not even angry, you knew this was coming, you just want to fuck someone to forget. And Yamaguchi, the ever-loving asshole that he is, saying yes, yes, that makes sense, instead of saying, no, it's a bad idea. And then your dorm room, and then your sheets, and then your skin, god, your fucking skin. And now probably a hundred missed calls from Tsukki when Yamaguchi can chance a look at his phone, and the swirling feeling of bile coming up his throat, but what the fuck was he supposed to do? Wouldn't anyone have done the same?

He'd been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you, and in better, kinder ways than Tsukki, he knew. You were so beautiful, a ray of sunshine, someone who deserved the world, and to be treated with tenderness, and care. Tsukki just treated you like he did any other adoring idiot who was obsessed with him. Yamaguchi knew you deserved someone who was obsessed with you, and he knew he could be that. He knew he could love you. He had to constantly fucking remind Tsukki how you took your coffee in the morning, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream was, and that it did in fact matter when he got home if you were waiting up for him, and that you actually cared about him more than he knew and he shouldn't be wasting this opportunity treating you like an annoyance, like you didn't deserve his attention. Hell, with everything Yamaguchi tried to do to make sure you were treated right, you might as well have been dating him the whole time.

And he hated how his heart twinged with jealousy every time you chose his best friend over him, but he let it happen, because he loved you, even though he just fucking knew that wasn't how it was supposed to be. And then last night, everyone was tipsy, and you were crying, and he saw the chance to show you what really being loved could look like, and he took it. Fuck.

You mumble something soft and sweet against his shoulder and he remembers what he said last night with you on top of him, the only thing he could find the words to say, in every cadence he could think of, even after you laughed and told him to stop:

"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you."

Yamaguchi swallows hard.

It hadn't been sex. It had been love. And that was so, so much worse.

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

[harrywavycurly]

Is Dorothy gonna be a trouble maker? I feel like she’s going to want to fight everyone like her mom but be a big softy like Eddie 🥹🥹

Hiii babes!! So I feel like she’s a mixture of both of them as in she’s gonna say what’s on her mind but also really fun to be around😂 I’ll give you some examples!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

*in these Dorothy is around 7/8 and the nicknames Reader gives Dotty are ones my mom used for me lol*

“So wanna know what our darling little girl did at school today sweetheart?” “Uh let me guess she…learned something?” “Well…she learned what the inside of the principal’s office looks like.” “Ohh dot…Is it tacky? She strikes me as being very beige.” “Yes mom you’d hate-” “uh excuse me…why don’t you tell your mother why you had to go to the office?” “What’d you do sugar butt? Who’d you make cry today?” “Uhm…well it was…uh…my…teacher.” “Your teacher? You made your teacher cry?” “Not cry but she was…upset but all I asked her to do was look at me when she was talking to me because that’s what you always tell daddy when he’s not listening to you and…she wasn’t listening to what I was saying so I asked her politely…I used my manners and everything…I just asked if she could just please look at me while I’m speaking….” “Well…what did the principal say to you?” “She said that I need to talk to my teachers with respect and be patient with them since there’s twenty of us and only one of her…” “and did you apologize to your teacher?” “No….I didn’t think she deserved an apology since I didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve always said don’t say things you don’t mean…” “right…yeah okay uh…why don’t you go work on your homework while your dad and I talk about this okay?” Okay…” “how the fuck done handle this Eddie? We can’t punish her for asking for her teacher to pay attention to her and she’s right…we do always tell her not to say things she doesn’t mean.” “I say we let this issue slide but if she’s a regular in the principal’s office then we’ve got to be a little more…stern…or…something.” “Right because that’s us…super stern and strict.”

“Uncle Steve is getting married? To someone we don’t know?” “No sugar he’s just going to a wedding.” “With someone we don’t know? What if she’s mean? Or doesn’t have good hair?” “I’m sure she’s nice…now the hair thing I’m not sure anyone is going to live up to your uncle Steve’s fabulous hair.” “Mom be serious…he can’t go with a stranger…we should go with him.” “Sugar he didn’t ask us to go…what if he brings her by so we can meet her would that make you feel better?” “Yes…I’ll go call him.” “Okay…go call him and ask if he’d like to bring her to dinner this week but don’t you dare call her the stranger you hear me? That’s not nice.” “Then what do I call her?” “His girlfriend…just say hey uncle Steve do you and your girlfriend want to come have dinner with us this week? And go from there…” “okay but he’s not coming over on chicken nugget night…”

“Dad can I ask you a question?” “Sure princess what’s up?” “Did you really have your head in your ass?” “Excuse me? Where did you hear that?” “Granddaddy…he said that when you met mom that it took you a while to get your head outta your ass and ask her out…” “I’m gonna kill-” “oh you’re not gonna kill anyone…now sugar no your dad didn’t actually have his head in his ass that’s just a figure of speech…like when someone says it’s hotter than hell outside or when your grandaddy says he’s as full as a tick…does that make sense?” “I thought so…because that’s not physically possible.” “Also you know those are no no words….” “Sorry dad but mom said I’m allowed to say bad words if it’s part of a story or repeating what someone said…” “did she now?” “What? It’s logical…I didn’t know Wayne was gonna go and tell her something like that.” “That’s fine Princess but just don’t say that phrase outside of the house okay?” “Okay dad.”

[coryosmin]

how would the hg boys and girls comfort you

warning: reference to sex

new character has been added teehee giggle giggle

coriolanus - OKAY SO, this could go in multiple directions. first and foremost, coryo would likely comfort you by holding your hand and listening to you talk to him. he would massage your knuckles as his blue eyes are looking at you. secondly, he would also try to comfort you with sex because he’s not always sure on what exactly you need in terms of comfort. he’s just an awkward dude that isn’t very in tune with emotions.

tigris (heehee) - this queen. okay so i love her. now that that’s out of the way, she would hug you and reassure you. she would make sure you’re okay, listen to you intently and give you such words of comfort. she’ll make sure you feel better by talking about something that will make you laugh. she’s actually so fabulous

sejanus - he would be the master at comforting. he and finnick anyways. sejanus would hug you so tight. not in a bone crushing way but in a way that like is so comforting? idk. when i’m upset and get hugged very tightly it helps. anyways, he would give you kisses on your face, telling you how much you mean to him and such. he would comfort you so good!! he would also make you some treats.

finnick - he would talk to you first. let you vent to him and everything. he would listen to you intently, nodding his head. and when you finished, he would hug you and hold you close to him. finnick is so cute too because he’ll whisper in your ear about how good you are and how you’re doing so well and that he is proud of you. ugh i love him.

peeta - i think he’s such a gift giver so he would comfort you by making you something warm like some brownies. because all problems can be resolved with sugar, right? he would also cuddle you and hold you close to him.

johanna - her form of comforting is slightly aggressive. she will listen to you no matter what and be there for you. but if you mention someone has been upsetting you, she will go “who do i have to kill?” while also being supportive of you. she would say things like “bitch don’t listen to them. you’re doing great.” and then she would give you a hug and a kiss like “fuck them up babe.” to hype you up. she’s great.

katniss - katniss isn’t the greater with comforting. i think she would be a really good listener but she wouldn’t know exactly what to do. she’s quite awkward with it. but she’ll hug you and hold you close to her.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Collecting seashells with Jamie please?

2023 Summer Blurbs

Being able to take a vacation with Jamie was a rare gift. Normally, when your days off finally matched up with each other, you were both so exhausted and overworked that you just spent your break lounging around the house doing absolutely nothing. This time, though, Jamie was determined for the two of you to go on a proper vacation, one where you needed to pack bags and travel for hours on end.

He’d landed on a small beach town along the coast, and he was all too happy to play the whole trip out for you.

“All you have to do is pack,” he’d told you with a grin, and while you were a little bit worried and didn’t know what to expect, you trusted Jamie more than anything.

Unsurprisingly, the trip was wonderful, Jamie having planned everything perfectly to make your first true vacation together a memorable one. It was the perfect balance of relaxing and exciting, and by the last day you’re feeling rejuvenated and ready to head back to the city, but you also never want to leave.

Vacation Jamie is just another type of wonderful, somehow making your fabulous boyfriend even more perfect with his gorgeous floppy hair and those stunning thighs of his on display all day long in his swim trunks. He seemed happier, more relaxed than back in London, but you can tell he’s antsy to get back to football and you know this vacation’s just going to make him even better on the pitch because he’s finally had time to really relax.

“D’you mind if we head back to the beach?” Jamie asks as the two of you pack up the hotel room, preparing for your trip back to London, “I promised mum I’d bring her back a seashell.”

“Of course,” you reply, because you’re looking for any excuse to spend more time at the beach you’ve come to love and because you’d do anything for Georgie.

There are plenty of shells on the beach, but Jamie has been carefully inspecting each and every one of them, trying to find something perfect to bring home for his mom. You have your own handful of shells, a mixture of ones you thought were pretty and ones Jamie had discarded but you knew he’d regret leaving behind fully.

It’s been almost an hour of hunting for the perfect seashells when Jamie finally speaks up, breaking the monotonous noise of the waves crashing on the shoreline and your idle chatter.

“My mum used to take me here when I was lad, just me and her,” and it’s all he says but then everything makes sense, the destination and the determination to find something perfect for her.

“Maybe we can find a little jar, fill it with all sorts of shells for her,” you offer, because you know Jamie would spend the next few weeks beating himself up if he wasn’t able to find something he thought was perfect enough for his mom, even though the both of you know she’d be happy with anything he gave her because it came from him, and he looks at you like you’ve created the ocean yourself.

“That’s a fucking brilliant idea,” he says with that smile you love so much before his shoulders relax and he starts gathering shells in his hands. You’re going to need a large jar, but you don’t mind because it just means you get to spend more time with Jamie on the most relaxing vacation of your life.

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday. 2/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday

A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!

Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?

Warnings: none? I think?

Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)

-5700k words

„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.

You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.

„Wait.." you said,  sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.

„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.

You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now

The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.

But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself. 

It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her. 

 Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.

Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.

Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper.  You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper.  It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship?  Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five. 

Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.

You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected.  "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.

"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.

"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".

After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.

But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.

You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.

Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your  patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.

Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood.  But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil.  "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness.��A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.

One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.

You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.

Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.

The day with Sophia didnt end there, it  stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.

But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.

After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.

Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up.  Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore. 

"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.

"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.

"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff  ''You can meet sophia  and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.

You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.

"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.

"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.

"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.

You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’

"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."

''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.

I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”

The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know.  But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.

The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.

The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.

''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying'' 

The words cut deeper than a knife,

before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:

"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.

Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.

Why are you with her?

I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,

so the anger inside of me when I see you with her

is something I'm not allowed to feel.

What I feel, I shouldn't show you.

So when you're around, I don't.

I let you walk away with her.

I know I don't have the right to feel it,

but it doesn't mean I don't."

The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.

Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.

Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue.  Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.

In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.

——————————————————-

"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“

"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation

"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.

Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.

In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie."  His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.

"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.

"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.

Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.

Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?

[yggdraseed]

My Deal with Giselle Gewelle

So, let me preface this by saying that I'm trans. I'm not saying that to invalidate the feelings of other trans people, just to specify that mine isn't some outsider's perspective. There's also spoilers for Bleach: TYBW, but I'm guessing that there aren't a lot of interested parties left who don't know about this. You probably also know this goes into transphobia, necrophilia, and rape, but if you don't, uh... trigger warning! Reader beware, you're in for a scare!

Recently, an episode of Bleach: Thousand Year Blood War came out in which noted bitchy asshole who uses too much product Yumichika Ayasegawa misgendered darling, sweet murderous trans babygirl Giselle Gewelle. It's also implied that upon necromancing Bambietta's corpse, Giselle had sex with her, probably against her will. That's all pretty fucked up, and I want to talk about it.

I started my transition about ten years ago, and exposure to trans or gender non-conforming anime and manga characters in general went a long way towards me accepting I was trans. Looking back, Giselle was one of the most significant characters to me at that early stage. I've always loved her design, and she was the first legit trans character I ever really saw and resonated with in anime and manga.

Get this: there used to be this thing in Shonen Jump's manga line-up called the Big Three. The most influential, bestselling manga in the bunch. One Piece, Naruto, and Bleach. And you wanna know something? Bleach was the first one to have a trans woman character. We can debate whether or not Giselle was good representation, but you know what? At the time, the closest we ever got was Haku pulling the "Oh, by the way, I'm a boy" card in Naruto's first major arc back in the early 2000s and a constant bombardment of okama jokes in One Piece. Okama is a derogatory term for gay men and drag queens, and for a long time, Oda could not get enough of making jokes about big, hairy men in women's clothing.

Now there was also Alluka Zoldyck in Hunter X Hunter, but the vast stretches of time Hunter X Hunter spends on hiatus makes it unclear to me whether she or Giselle came first. But within the Big Three - a designation which doesn't mean much now, but meant a ton back then - Giselle was first. Hunter X Hunter was never quite considered part of the Big 3. But either way, I think Alluka is the better character in terms of how her being trans is written. She's cute, she's precious, she's perfect in every way, and I'll make you pay if you say a single bad thing about her.

Years and years later, Oda would go on to write Kikunojo and Yamato. I still have complicated thoughts about Yamato as trans rep, but Kiku is great trans rep for being a relatively minor character. Oda has also phased the okama jokes out of the story over time. Jujutsu Kaisen also has a subtle, but well-handled example of a trans woman in Kirara Hoshi. She doesn't get nearly enough time in the story, and her identity hasn't been explored yet, but I hope GeGe will unpack that before the story's conclusion.

I tell you all of that so you realize that even if Giselle could have been handled better, Kubo was the first of the Big 3 authors to even try to write a trans girl. Not a femboy, not an okama - a trans woman/girl. He also gave us Charlotte Cuulhorne, and while Charlotte's depiction flirts with being just an okama gag and nothing more, she's so fabulous and so positive in her outlook on life that I can't bring myself to be mad.

So let's look at Giselle as a character. She's very cute, with her big eyes and goofy, purposefully adorable mannerisms. None of the other Sternritter girls try to be cute in quite the way Giselle does. Meninas likes cute things, but doesn't act cute, and that's as close as it gets. Unlike the other Femritters, Giselle wears clothes that cover up as much as possible. Even Liltotto's outfit shows off her shoulders and thighs some; Giselle keeps her shoulders and neck completely covered by a baggy sweater, and her legs covered by tights. Kubo drew a swimsuit picture with the Bambis all together, and he opted to put Giselle in a swimsuit with a skirt. It's pretty apparent that Giselle has concerns about how she looks and covers up as much as she can out of dysphoria. As a card-carrying member of the big jacket-long pants-closed toe shoes gang, I can tell you that when you're not very progressed with your transition, it's like that.

I think you can also make the argument that part of why Giselle acts so cutesy is because of her insecurities and feeling like she has to make up for them by being extra, overtly feminine and adorable. It's like that.

There's not a doubt in my mind that Kubo intended for Giselle to be trans. But is she good trans rep? Probably not, but she might not be as bad as she's made out to be.

People who criticize how Giselle is depicted as a trans character have two or three go-to arguments. Three points of interest to say that she's being written in a transphobic way.

1.) Yumichika scopes her out as trans and misgenders her.

2.) Charlotte says she and Giselle have a lot in common.

3.) The most damning: what Giselle does to Bambietta.

So, I've never liked people using Yumichika as a litmus test for how Kubo feels about trans people. Let me explain something to you: Yumichika is a bitch, an asshole, and the consummate gadfly. One of his defining traits is his awful personality and his inability to resist saying cruel, petty things to others. He's awful to Charlotte and he's awful to GiGi, and he's pretty much awful to anyone besides Ikkaku and Kenpachi, but especially Charlotte and GiGi.

Yumichika is an allegory for a closeted gay man. He has this deep admiration, respect, loyalty, and arguably love for Kenpachi and Ikkaku that's led him to stay in the 11th Division even though it's not where his talents are best put to work. He's adept at kido and his zanpakuto is based in kido, but he refuses to use the former or reveal the latter to his squad because he doesn't want them to reject him. The 11th Division is the manly man squad, all testosterone and sweat and bulging muscles and... ahem. Sorry, I got a little carried away. It's all very erotic. Anyways, Yumichika wants to be close to the men with whom he shares a bond of emotion and martial loyalty alike, and he refuses to embrace his gifts because of it. He's afraid his friends in the boys' club will kick him out for having interests and inclinations that most of them look down on.

I think you can make the argument that Yumichika hates Charlotte and Giselle precisely because they're being true to themselves, meaning they've made a leap he hasn't yet. He's too scared of what might happen if he doesn't keep the lie going about his zanpakuto, and he resents Giselle and Charlotte because they overcame a similar fear of rejection. And he expresses that by rejecting their truth, i.e., misgendering them. This is the interpretation I like the best. It's a sad fact that lots of gay men, closeted or otherwise, refuse to accept trans women.

Charlotte says she and Giselle have a lot in common, and honestly, I don't think this is transphobic either. If you choose to read Charlotte as a trans woman who isn't stereotypically feminine, but is true to herself, then what she's stating is just a fact. She and Giselle may not look the same, and Giselle may have an easier time passing, but they're both trans women if you ask me. And I think Giselle reacting with discomfort isn't innaccurate, either. Charlotte's confidence is admirable in some ways, but I think it sets of Giselle's alarm bells that she's going to be outed and rejected. Lots of trans women - myself included - are haunted by this fear that we'll never pass, never be accepted, or will be incapable of retaining our desired presentation as we get older. It's like that.

So, that brings us to the Bambietta Incident. Not quite as wide-reaching as the Shibuya Incident, but about as traumatizing for some, apparently. Full disclosure, I don't believe any heinous acts should be censored from fiction. If it makes you uncomfortable or awakens traumatic memories, then I'm sympathetic to that, but I do not believe that the right answer is to sanitize every work of fiction of every immoral act that could have that effect. You know where your limits are, so don't count on authors to protect you. Most of them won't, and I think you're stronger and smarter and more able to navigate a world with fictitious depictions like that in it than you realize.

I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, Giselle probably sexually assaulted Bambi. And is that right of her to do? Fuck no, it isn't. But nobody's really debating if that's right or wrong. The problem is that if you look at it a certain way, this is just reinforcing the old, awful stereotype of trans women being predators in disguise. Lots of shitty writers have done that, and it sucks.

However, those depictions assume that trans women are predators, by definition. Or at least sexual deviants. We could go down the rabbit hole of how sexual deviancy has historically been defined by people who use sex as a form of control anyway, but I'm not well-read enough to do that and - well, you've seen how long this post is. Be honest, you wouldn't want me to even try.

The point is that a depiction like that assumes trans woman = deviant. I don't want to make that logical leap here, because that means you need to assume that Kubo wrote Giselle with the intention that she assaulted Bambi because she's trans. I'm not a mind reader, so I'm uncomfortable with acting like I can know Kubo's intentions. It's a bad look to us in the Western sphere of the anime fandom, but I'm not sure how Kubo saw it. He might have not realized how it would look until that chapter was out there and he couldn't undo it, but given the fact they kept it in the anime, he either probably doesn't see a problem with it or there were other rewrites he saw as more important to allocate his mental energies to. Writing Bleach burned this man out, so I'll cut him some slack if so.

My point is, I'm not sure if you can say for sure that the story intends you to believe that Giselle assaulted Bambi because she's trans. When you look at it, Kubo seems to have a more in-depth understanding of trans people than some of you might have first realized. And I mean, shit man, he gave her biology manipulation powers. Every trans girl's first pick for super powers is shapeshifting or some form of biology manipulation. He knows. He's onto us. He's familiar with our ways. The jig is up, girls.

Looking at the broader scope of the narrative, Bleach is littered with characters who perform heinous actions and are not just shoved out the "All Villains Die" airlock. Chief example being Mayuri. The man committed war crimes, experiments on human beings, turns his own subordinates into bombs, and is heavily implied to have performed some very sexual deeds to reconstitute his daughter Nemu after Szayel parasitized her. Yet he still saves the day multiple times and he isn't gotten rid of, because he's more useful to the side of overall good alive than dead. Bleach is one of very few series to have characters who perform heinous deeds and still be treated as humans, rather than reducing them to those deeds and nothing else.

Plus, nobody really treats it as an issue with Kubo's writing that Bambietta killed one of her own fellow Quincies in cold blood just to vent her frustrations. I think because it's sexual and because Giselle is trans, she ends up being the lightning rod when... let's be honest, compared to what some of the Shinigami have done, what Giselle did is kind of quaint. She even helps rescue Candice and I think Meninas after they're taken captive by Mayuri in the novels, and she's considering releasing Bambietta from her control.

Given what we've seen, I think it's less accurate to pick on Giselle and try to say she's a case of Kubo being transphobic, and more accurate to say that living in the Shadow Realm under Yhwach's cruel, exploitative regime has made all the Sternritters fucked up in their own unique, vibrant ways. And for that matter, Kubo never kills her off. He clearly likes her enough to want her to still be around after the end of the series.

When you look at how Kubo draws Giselle in the manga and in illustrations after the manga's conclusion, you can tell he enjoys himself when he's drawing her. He always lavishes her facial expressions with detail, and you can feel love radiating off the page. That's more than you can say for a lot of the Quincies. I think Kubo was overjoyed to not have to draw PePe and his Vollständig anymore.

So like, yeah, Giselle is my problematic fave transgender character. And I don't think she's even as problematic as people's kneejerk reactions are to think she is. If you disagree, I don't care, I don't value your opinion. Particularly if you're not trans. If you're an ally, then that's sweet and all, but never try to speak for trans people about depictions of trans characters. If you are trans and Giselle made you uncomfortable, then I'm sorry you feel that way.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Credit: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/67875227#big_0

Guess I have to do all of them now.

//And I will walk through it as you ramble.

Shuichi is Ritsuka Fugimaru, male protagonist of Fgo. There's also an alternative of him of course being Sherlock Holmes. Not sure why he's the simple harem protagonist but ok. Sherlock is obvious tho.

//I mean, all of the protags have incredible harem energy, Makoto especially, but Shuichi too. It's not THAT weird to me.

Kaede is Nero Claudius (damn this would put her at really bad terms with Mahiru Boudica then). Not sure why Genderbent Nero Claudius is Kaede but I guess they are both busty blonde happy proud girls that are not actually so happy and proud deep down. Tho, I need to point out this is actually super ironic cuz Nero Claudius was historically tone deaf.

//That's funny.

Kokichi is James Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime. This fits so well. Both of them are basically asshole yet charismatic crimelords/troublemakers and are usually the cause of everyone's problems behind the scenes. Also, going with the alternative one for Shuichi as Holmes, this fits well cuz Moriarty and Holmes are actually canon rivals. Tho double suicide is obviously off the chart.

//Yeah, that fits a little too well actually.

Ryoma is Emiya Alter. Edgelord badasses with a death wish and a dark sense of justice and always suffer cuz of it. Fits the bill.

//Makes sense.

Kurumi is Emiya. Idk why at all. The non-alter version of Ryoma's. Hero of Justice who ended up hating his own dream cuz it made him constantly kill and kill and kill as the world's personal hitman. Made him question what it means to be a Hero. How the fuck does this fit Kurumi? And how does this parallel with Ryoma by Kurumi's side over there?

//That is strange to make KIRUMI of all characters Emiya. Isn't Emiya like, a big deal in this franchise? Surely that role should go to one of the protags.

Miu is Leonardo Da Vinci. Proud beauty super eccentric inventors. Makes perfect sense.

//Miu gives off big "DA VINKY!?" energy.

Gonta is Asterius/The Minotaur. Big animalistic muscular wild men with actual soft hearts and lovable personalities. Fits the bill.

//He looks cute too.

Tsumugi is Cleopatra (oh damn this would mean Twogami Julius Caesar and her are a thing). This is solely due to the meme of them looking like each other. Tsumugi is not that fabulous and proud beauty of herself. No way Tsumugi can weaponize her own beauty sparkles and glittering to make explosions.

//I disagree with this in the case of Survivor. Zetsubou Tsumugi is SO damn full of herself, it's painful. And while I wouldn't call it "weaponizing her own beauty," Tsumugi's own powers ARE related to her appearance too.

Keebo is Charles Babbage. Two robot men. Nuff said. Tho I need to ask how well Keebo is at programming compared to the actual Father of Computer Programming.

//I misread that as Charles Cabbage. Also, to answer this, the whole point of Keebo is that he's an advanced AI and fully functioning robot that's beyond the technological advancements of the state that V3's world is in. But him not being able to do anything like shoot lasers, fly around, and do super cool comic robot stuff; therefore leaving everyone disappointed despite how actually incredible he is as a creation, is the joke.

Kaito is Thomas Edison (damn this must mean Kazuichi and Kaito argue a lot). Idk why. What does Kaito have in common with a guy who invented the common lightbulb (he actually submitted it first. Someone in Russia invented the same exact lightbulb type at the same exact time as Edison but he turned in his papers the day later compared to Edison who rushed immediately to the offices) and, do not ask me why, fused with every American President from past, present, and future and with the Warner brothers Lion to be a Super President? Kaito got the short end of the draw.

//Miu said that Thomas Edison said genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, and Kaito sure does perspire a lot.

Maki is Jack the Ripper. Loli Jack the Ripper. One of the possible Jack the Ripper's. Not really Jack the Ripper, is actually the spiritual incarnation/accumulation of all of the dead orphans/aborted children left for dead by the millions of prostitutes in London at the time. Maki is a damn good assassin and does have a strong love/hate relationship with kids, especially orphans, but this is a bit much.

//I mean, Maki being Jack The Ripper is what I expected, if we're likening her to any historical figure, but THIS iteration? The spirit of orphans stuff makes sense, but Jesussss!?

Tenko is Ushiwakamaru/Yoshitsune. Idk about this. Both of them may be dark hair sporty types but Tenko is definitely no military general and badass master swordsman (genderbent now) known for jumping across 8 ships in a row cutting everyone down. Doesn't seem to fit the bill here.

//Makes more sense than something like L'ouvature or whatever?

Himiko is Abigail Williams. Why the fuck would Himiko be the girl who essentially started the Salem Witch Trials by blaming everyone? Himiko would been murdered on the spot if she met historical Abigail. Sure, Fgo's version of Abigail is an absolutely precious little girl who'd you so want to protect as your daughter but also has very dark personality switch cuz she's actually connected to the actual Lovecraftian Elder God Yog Sothoth, but I need more than both of them being magical witch aesthetic little girls.

//There were many speculations going around after the end of the witch trials that Abigail Williams herself was a witch all along. So Himiko COULD fit into her shoes if she was a much nastier character.

Rantaro is motherfucking Merlin. No offense but Rantaro is not deserving of the meme king dick wizard who broke the meta more than any top tier waifu. I could explain why he's nicknamed the Dick Wizard but that's a hilarious other story.

//Yes he is. Yes. He. Is.

Korekiyo is Phantom of the Opera. Sociopath Serial Killers with obsessive behaviours towards a certain girl in their lives. Makes sense.

//Makes TOO MUCH sense.

And Angie is Xuanzang. This calls into question whether Angie has a pet horse, monkey, pig, and whatever animal that "sand demon" with a (trident?) spear was. (I'm Asian American and idolized Journey to the West and even I don't know). Regardless, both are super religious and I guess get into trouble all the damn time. I can kinda see it but it could be better.

//Yeah, kind of like what I said with Tenko. It doesn't make complete sense, but it makes more sense than most stuff.

-Mod

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Roy/Jamie idea: don’t know if you do mpreg or not but I had this idea of Jamie starting to feel weird, get sick in the mornings a crave the strangest food. Roy gets worried sick and finally takes Jamie to the doctor for some tests. The results are on and Roy thinks Jamie’s dying, asks the doctor how long Jaime has. He’s devastated when the doc says maybe 8 months give or take. Roy rushes to Jaime who’s glowing and assures him they will make the best of the time they have left. Jamie’s like honey I’m not dyin’ I’m havin yet babey! Roy passes out but I’d super thrilled when he regains consciousness

I’ve read and written worse things to afraid of a little requested mpreg.

So yeah I’ll write it! But also know I’m drunk tonight so yeah!

Content warning- mpreg. And don’t be a bitch in the comments there’s a clear warning. In my mpreg universe they can have kids only by c-section.

Jamie had actually been throwing up for about two weeks before Roy realized. Once he found out and then found out how long it had been happening he flipped.

It doesn’t help that Jamie just tried to play it off as food poisoning from the weird stuff he’s been eating recently. If fact Roy probably reacted worse once Jamie started naming the things he’s been eating.

It’s the first month of the off season he’s allowed to get a bit loose with his meals

Jamie gets it. He does. He probably would’ve reacted the same way.

Thus comes the logical conclusion of Jamie sitting in the doctor’s office with Roy in the waiting room.

He’s been swinging his legs for the past few minutes waiting for the doctor to come back. He’s texting with Keeley about getting brunch as soon as he doesn’t feel like throwing up everything.

His doctor comes in with a smile, Jamie loves her. She always listens when he says something is wrong and gets that he has weird injuries with football.

She sits on the stool and rolls closer to him, “okay Jamie you ready?” Jamie takes a breath he nods.

“Short version is you’re totally fine. But you are pregnant.”

Jamie blinks. He can’t have heard her right. “Sorry come again?”

She smiles, “pregnant Jamie, about a month and a half along. We always knew you had the gene, always knew it was a possibility. Now there’s choices you can make if this isn’t what you want.”

Jamie shakes his head. “No I’m glad that people have choices but I want this. Never let myself think about it but now I want it.” She smiles at him again. “Fabulous okay do you want to call the father? I’m going out on a limb here and guessing it’s Roy.”

Jamie laughs. He burns a bit pink, “yeah it’s Roy, guess we weren’t always safe.” She laughs, “it’s okay you don’t have to explain you just have to be happy.”

“Can you get him for me? Just tell him he needs to be here.” “Want to freak him out?” Jamie laughs again, “Marie you know me so well.”

-

When Roy comes in the room the first think he does is catches Jamie’s hand. “You okay? Know why you’re throwing up?”

Jamie sighs. He knows it’s mean but he can’t help it. “Yeah it’ll all be over in about eight months.”

Roy inhales. “Oh god Jamie I’m so sorry. It’s okay we can do this. It will be fine. We’ll take off from football. Fuck football. We’ll travel. You know I’ll never leave you.”

Marie is refusing to look at Jamie. She knows she should stop this but he’s having a good time.

Jamie breaks. He lets out a laugh. He grins at Roy. “You better not leave you helped make this problem.” Roy tilts his head. He looks at the doctor then back to Jamie. “I’m pregnant Roy.”

-

When Roy comes back to himself it’s to Jamie holding him in his lap with Marie gently chastising Jamie. “You should’ve told him to sit at least you evil boy.”

Roy tilts his head back to look at Jamie. “You’re pregnant??” Jamie nods. “I’ll leave you two alone for a little bit.”

Marie leaves. Roy sits up he turns to look at Jamie. “Pregnant?” “Yeah. We really haven’t been careful.”

Roy feels some tears start. Jamie inhales, he wipes away the tears that fall. “Are you okay with this?”

Roy laughs. “God of course I am. This is a dream baby. Oh fuck a baby. Goddamn it Jamie you’re brilliant.”

Jamie let’s out a wet laugh. “Not angry? Happy? You’re gonna be a dad.”

Roy let’s the tears come down his face for real now. He kisses Jamie. He’s never not going to kiss Jamie. “You know this is going to take you off the field for the whole next season?” Jamie takes Roy’s hand. He puts it on his stomach, “it’ll be worth it. I’m not going anywhere on the team, just taking a break.”

“The guys are going to lose their minds.”

Jamie kisses Roy again, “mum is going to lose it are you kidding me?”

“Oh fuck we have to tell your mom we fucked.”

Jamie let’s out a big laugh. “Hon she knows she’s seen the hickeys.”

Roy goes bright red. “Jesus.”

“Phoebe and your sister are doing to lose their minds.”

Roy pulls Jamie into his lap. “We’re going to get so much baby clothing.” Jamie can’t stop smiling he’s so excited. “Come on let’s go check out. I want to take you home.”

When they get back into the car Jamie let’s out the cheer he’s been holding in. “Oh my god Roy I’m so excited to have a kid with you.”

Roy kisses him again. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my kid. Kids? Kid.”

Jamie laughs “god knows you’d be able to knock me up with twins.”

“Don’t you dare say that, we can’t handle two kids.”

-

8 months later they have a little girl. She’s got curly black hair and bright blue eyes. It’s the happiest they’ve ever been. They know it won’t be easy but what in their lives has been. It will be easier then most things because of how much they love each other.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Hello, Fabulous Fans of the Fandom!!! It has definitely been a hot second.

Didn't post anything about their posts, and Pap walks, for the reason that I'm pretty sure they're getting ideas from rant posts like mine... Didn't want them getting more ideas, so no rant post.

But today, I'm making an exception. 😉

Before we begin though, 👸 wants to give y'all a small warning ⚠️

To start, let's look at this photo...

Is that who we think it is?

Is it?

Is it?

Nah, I'm just kidding. Don't worry if you thought it was Albitch, trust me, you weren't the only one 😆

Thank you, 👸 for handing me these screenshots 😁

"Funny how, Kim Kardashian's nudes made her famous. But when AB did it, to try and get attention, we constantly mock her for it."-👸

Girl! You've got a point 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Now that I have your attention, let's get to my main topic...

WTF has been happening lately?!?!

Well, for one thing, I know we're all tense one way or another about Valentine's Day. Since aside from being the most romantic day of the year, it's also the anniversary of the dreaded VDay photo dump.

And then there's the uterus-obssesed trolls from her side, expecting a baby announcement... Fuck y'all, by the way 🖕 which made me more tense about February 14.

But what happens a few hours before February 14 American time? Chris posts an adorable video about Dodger instead.

Still, that didn't help alleviate the tension. Because Dodger might help a little, but he's been used before, and it most definitely wasn't fun.

But then, it turns out Albitch isn't even in the same country. She flew to France with a bunch of friends. Friends who were seen to be posting to their boyfriends, saying how they missed them.

But why is Albitch's trip so important? Well, let me tell you. She WASN'T in the same country, when Chris just proved he's in Mass, and her friends' posts showed her WITHOUT her ring, in France.

Oddly enough, it was around this time, that photos of ringless-Chris-lookalike surfaced. The photos that were shown and sent to people/blogs that were guaranteed to get it circling the internet before the end of the day.

Seriously, are they slipping? Or was it deliberate?

Anyway, when Valentine's finally came, we were in the clear. Chris' Instagram remained silent, except for that one significant Dodger post.

Things stayed relatively quiet for a while, aside from the France trips making their rounds here and there. But it all came to a head earlier, when Chris posted on his story...

Further confirming how far apart he, and his dear "wife" really are. Who's been seen, eating out in France, still missing her ring...

I mean, really? Do y'all not eat out with finger jewelry? Is that another lame excuse y'all have for her?🙄

And three days ago, this article gets released... And the legitimacy is still up for debate, but the fact that it's here, feels like the perfect storm to me.

Not saying that it's the beginning of the end. But it's something!

Now, honestly, it's a mess in the Fandom. This whole thing is causing a shit storm, like always, and it's not pretty.

But whether or not this means something, we have to keep a level head. This could go either way. Which is why I, personally am taking the win.

Wins are few and far between right now, so, I'm taking it. And I'm also finishing two fics, and enjoying my book. Which is a pretty big deal, considering, I haven't been able to finish a book for most of last year 🥺

Thank you to my fabulous friends for sourcing me, and guiding me to the screenshots that allowed me to make my posts. Y'all truly are the best eyes and ears, a girl can ask for. 🫶

And please let me know, or feel free to add, if I forgot anything, guys😊

Until the next one!

❤️ Booky

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: Triple Sec by TJ Alexander

4.5/5. Releases 6/4/24.

Vibes: healthy polyamory, front and center genderqueer rep (from a trans nonbinary author), slice of life in the best possible way, BOMB ASS COCKTAILS

Heath Index: 7.5/10.

Ambitious high-end bartender Mel Sorrento has been in a rut since her divorce. Enter the vivacious, brilliant Bebe... who happens to have spouse. Quiet, reserved Kade doesn't have a problem with Mel dating their wife, however--because Kade and Bebe are polyamorous. Mel's never considered the lifestyle, but her instant connection with Bebe makes her willing to give it a shot. But when her dynamic with Kade begins to shift into something entirely new, she must confront what she's actually looking for in a relationship, and how much this new opportunity for love really means to her.

UGH. YES. This is how you do a contemporary romance that, at the end of the day, is a slice of life character piece. Triple Sec is not about shocking you with plot twists and over the top dramatics (and that's not a critique--often, I'd say that I prefer plot twists and over the top dramatics). It's just fucking good writing with great character development and romance. It's also one of the more realistic contemporary romances I've read, which is honestly so refreshing. I truly believed that there were grown-ass adults figuring out their shit.

Quick Takes:

--One thing I love about a triad romance (and while this is the most realistic one I've read (I say having never been in a polycule or a triad more specifically), I do generally enjoy reading about the complexities of both figuring out a three-way relationship and developing the different "segments". While I've read some that begin with love triangle elements, that isn't the case here. Though they aren't without expected hiccups, Kade and Bebe have a very healthy approach to Bebe's beginning relationship with Mel (and later Kade starting things with Mel as well).

I feel like in less capable hands, the degree to which Bebe and Kade communicate and deal with jealousy would seem overly sanitized or boring. Like, they begin the relationship with Kade sitting in on Bebe asking Mel out and everything, just to reassure Mel that there isn't any cheating going on. But like... it's NEVER dull. It never feels expected, or like these people are perfect. (I mean, they aren't--Mel has some struggles and stumbles when beginning her journey into polyamory.)

--Part of what makes that work, I think, is the contrast in the relationships. Kade and Bebe have been together for almost a decade--they know what they're doing, and their lived-in love reverberates off the page, even though the book is entirely from Mel's third-person perspective. (Kade calling Bebe "love" constantly, despite seeming kind of frosty? Swoon.) Bebe and Mel have this immediate chemistry, full of fun and fire. And Kade and Mel sort of like... I felt an automatic sexual tension, but I also think that Mel was a bit too "new" to their dynamic to super sense it. This is probably not going to make sense to anyone but me, but I got this kind of like... Darcy and Lizzie vibe? Kade was never as prickly as Darcy, but I definitely felt like Mel was in that "WHAT. BUT THEY DON'T EVEN LIKE ME???" space.

All of it worked to me. I mean--I won't lie. I was a little partial to Mel and Kade's dynamic, because a) I like it to be a little difficult and b) Kade was my favorite but everything is great.

--Let us expand on Kade being my favorite. I really appreciate a "still waters run deep" character. Kade is that. They seem remote, but they have so much feeling and passion rumbling under the surface, and Alexander throws them into this situation with Mel that is sooooo tropey and fabulous and reading as the feelings spilled out of them was just pitch-perfect.

This does happen somewhat later, so you technically spend a lot more time with Bebe and Mel together on the page. However, Kade has a such presence, and they're constantly sort of like... looming in the background. And because of that, the slowly bubbling tension that Mel doesn't even fully register for a while is so HOT. I mean. Kade is also so hot. I was ABOUT them. Again--love Bebe and Mel, together and apart, but WHEW.

--This is completely an aside, but I do think the cocktail competition and the highlighting of the art of making a great cocktail was really cool. It made me both want to learn how to mix drinks (to the extent that I can) and try something new. These types of details make a contemporary romance way richer, and they're appreciated.

--I think it's really important to show books that are both incredibly romantic and sexy and approachable. Again, I've never been in a polyamorous or more generally non-monogamous relationship. I can't attest to have truly realistic this book is. But in general, I loved seeing a romance in which the relationship part started fairly early, showing negotiations, showing boundaries, showing rules. I mean, really, monogamous relationships should also be subject to rules and negotiations and boundaries. We should normalize this in romance. Things change. That HEA does kinda take work in some stories, and that is more reflective of real life.

Speaking of the HEA... I so appreciated that both Kade and Mel had been in very serious, very intense relationships in the past. Kade's openness and honesty about how their past partner did offer them things Bebe couldn't (and Mel can't either) was so refreshing. It's not that they necessarily need someone else to come in and take that space (though the rules do allow room for new partners--we don't see anything happen beyond the triad in this book). It's just a reality. No one person can give you everything, and that doesn't mean that every person needs to be with enough people to comprise "everything". If that's even possible. It's just something to accept, no matter what your relationship preferences.

I also loved that Kade was kind of like--yeah, this could end. How many things are really forever? But we love each other when we love each other and make each other happy and that's good. I mean, I think some people will categorize this book as one with an HFN versus an HEA--personally, I'd kinda disagree with that. But either way, I really loved seeing a romance that validated the idea that like... A relationship ending doesn't mean it wasn't VALUABLE.

The Sex:

HOT HOT HOT. Technically speaking, there are three full sex scenes in this novel. Every single one of those scenes went HARD. We have sex in a public space, we have LICK! IT! UP! (as in cum) the strap is indeed taken out and used to great effect. It's great. I loved it. I also liked and overall agree with Bebe's philosophy regarding sex and how people often tend to switch up their "out of bed" personalities compared to their "in bed" personalities.

(Also. Kade is a dirty talker. What can't they do?)

A super queer, super sexy, super bubbly contemporary romance with a heavy emphasis on character development and love story that really sold me on the "love" part. And on a personal note--I have a trans nonbinary person in my life who is much loved, and I so appreciate them having someone like TJ Alexander to see out there, creating art and leaving a mark.

Would highly recommend.

Thanks to NetGalley and Atria/Emily Bestler Books for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.