#and honestly I think so many people are resistant to that idea because it is a fucking SCARY one

[hazel2468]

Something that I need people to understand, especially on this hellsite. Is that oppression does not depend on who you actually are.

It depends on how the world sees you.

If the world sees you as X identity. They will treat you as X identity, whether you are or not. If the world sees that you are not X identity, but they can use the oppression of X identity as a cudgel to make you act the way they want you to? They will use it.

Oppression is NOT dependent on who you actually are. It depends on how the world sees you. It depends on how people see you and what they decide to put on you because of that.

Oh. And when someone experiences a form of oppression that is NOT based in the reality of who they are? It's still that kind of oppression. It's not "misdirected"- it is still that kind of oppression being leveraged to maintain the current social climate.

[obessivedork]

I made the dumb mistake of wanting to play a "causes problems on purpose" gremlin this playthrough and then turning around and deciding my main companions are going to be Danse (I may hate them but I'm curious about this iteration of TBoS) and Curie

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Kinda continuation of this fic about this idea.

So.

He might have been slightly wrong about his assessment.

In his defense, Proud Immortal Demon Way was a stallion novel with lots of (bad) hetero papapa. Who would have thought that just by transmigrating a gay person in the universe would make everything more fruity, changing the whole genre?! (Okay, two gay people. Turns out Airplane was gay too. Suddenly, everything made so much sense after that revelation.)

(It was embarrassing to think back of that revelation. Even if it led him to his first boyfriend.

Especially because it led him to his first boyfriend.

Oh boy. Even thinking about it makes him want to dig himself a cushy little hole to bury himself. His first boyfriend. Shen Qingqiu was still too thin faced for this. To even remember how shameless Shang Qinghua was.

“Bro. Brooo! I'm gay. Why do you think My King is like that?!

“What?!” Shen Qingqiu was shocked. Sure, it was always a bit suspicious that Luo Binghe’s right hand man was still alive even though he was gorgeous, but to be the writer's perfect man? That explained so much…

“Yeah! He is like, my dream man! Gorgeous, a cold beauty, so mean and cruel, yet caring and loyal to those who deserve… I'm so weak for this type of men. Men who could step on me and I would thank them for it…” Shang Qinghua was embarrassing with his dreamy little sighs. And- were those stars in his eyes?! Was he drooling?!

Shameless! Utterly shameless!

But that description…

“Is that why Luo Binghe was like that too? Do you want my sweet lotus to step on you?! You shameless pervert!”

A snort was his answer.

“L-O-L. Of course you would think of Luo Binghe. No. I mean, yes, of course, but I wasn't thinking of my son.” There was an uncharacteristically calculating look in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. It was oddly attractive, not that Shen Qingqiu noticed it. Nope. He definitely did not notice it.” Can't you think of someone else that could be described as such?”

“No, not really. Gorgeous and beautiful, yes, many, but… Cold? Hm. I mean…” he trailed off. Shen Qingqiu - the OG - was a cold beauty. But he was a despicable scum villain, with no loyalty to anyone. And “caring”?! Hah! No way!”

“The original good was gorgeous and mean and cruel… but definitely not caring and loyal! Is it really a male character?”

“Bro.” The condescence was dripping from that word. “O-M-G, bro. How can you be so smart, yet so dense at the same time?! I'm talking about YOU!”

“...”

He?

They just looked at each other, one behind his facepalm, the other blue screening.

“Wait. What?!”

And that was how the talks about their relationship started.)

He would have preferred if he had a working System that notified him of such changes, instead of finding it out like how he found out.

[Host did not ask 乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ]

Hmph.

But it was great! Life was great! Everything was great!

“Piss off you halfbreed!”

Except for when it was not.

“What? Is Liu-shishu jealous of this discipline? This is my time with Shizun, so you piss off!”

Shen Qingqiu sighed, and hiding behind his fan, he resisted the urge to facepalm. Honestly, his boyfriends…

“If this master's shidi and discipline do not learn how to drink tea together peacefully, this master will visit the Sect Leader instead. This master is sure Zhangmen-shixiong would be pleased with the unscheduled visit.”

“SHIZUN!” cried his sticky discipline - the Emperor, really. Fucking protagonist halo - in outrage. “No, Shizun can't do this! This is this discipline’s time with Shizun!”

“Shen-shixiong!” Huffed Liu Qingge as well. His boyfriends were so dramatic, honestly…

He sighed again. A repeating act when he spent his time with these two.

He wouldn't want it anyway else, though. These two were his dramatic brutish idiots.

“Come here,” he opened his arm, and Luo Binghe immediately threw himself into the hug. Liu Qingge was slower, more resistant, as if the little tsundere didn't like these hugs, but at Shen Qingqiu’s raised eyebrow, he leaned into the hug with more dignity.

It's okay, shidi, this master will not tell anyone that you are a big softie who loves cuddling with your shixiong and shizi.

“Would Shizun leave us for the Sect Leader?” sobbed Luo Binghe into green robes.

This needy protagonist…

“Leave? No. But you know that there has been… talks… between this master and Zhangmen-shixiong. The Sect Leader is… well. The thing between this master and Yue Qingyuan is different. There are too many misunderstandings and a burdening past between us. It is a slow process. Don't be so jealous, okay? This master… This master cares for you. For both of you. All of you, really…”

And wasn't that a mindfuck. He transmigrated as a virginal disaster gay, whose main goal in his second life was to hug the protagonist's golden thighs to survive, and there he was now, having a literal harem of gorgeous, hypercompetent men. Like- how? How the fuck?!

System, explain this!

[Since the protagonist Luo Binghe is not open to have a harem, the task was assigned to-]

Okay, okay, okay! I know!

Fucking hell.

It was still so weird that the “harem owner” halo was transferred to him. Not to Shang Qinghua - though he also has another boyfriend so he had two people who would gladly step on him -, not to Liu Qingge - who had a frenemies-to-lovers-by-proxy kinda relationship with Luo Binghe -, not even to the Luo Binghe-like Xiao Gongyi - who literally sent an application form to Shen Qingqiu's current partners to apply as a new harem member, WTF?! -, but to him! Shen Yuan!

Wild.

“It would be better for your health, if you'd finally allow Mu Qingfang to court your, but at least it is not the mutt’s snake of a cousin…” Liu Qingge grunted, still salty about that time when he was late to “save” Shen Qingqiu and Zhuzhi-lang “saved” him instead. Shen Yuan still maintained his opinion that knew what he was doing and he was not a damsel in distress, needing a strong man to save him!

He cleared his throat. “Uh… about that…”

“SHIZUN!”

“SHEN QINGQIU!”

The two shouts of dismay were expectable, as was the silent communication between the two lovers-by-proxy. Now the two had a common enemy, which he should probably discourage if he wanted his new pet to stay alive, but… He would not. The two needed to bond, the UST between them was killing Shen Qingqiu, and his slippery little snake was great at surviving. He would be fine.

Shen Qingqiu's sanity, on the other hand, was not.

No matter… who needed sanity, when he had a harem full of violate, powerful, gorgeous men who - against all reason - loved him.

And he loved them in return.

Life was good!

[Host is welcome! Please, rate your experience with a five star review!]

Fuck off!

[theelazaruspit]

Lazy Sunday | Husband!John Price x Author!Reader

Getting some much-needed stress relief from your doting husband

Warning/content: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, gentle dom!price, established relationship, porn with plot, slow(ish) burn, angst, hurt/comfort, reader wears glasses, discussion of self-doubt and insecurity, cunnilingus, fingering, dumbification if you squint? (You’re just really relaxed), creampie, squirting, no use of y/n, they’re grossly in love idk what else to tell you honestly, but if I missed anything, let me know! Word count: 4.9k.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for ages, and I've been chipping away at it slowly, but after seeing @ghosts-cyphera 's husband!price drabble, I rose from the metaphorical dead, and here we are, so thank you, Alora, for being a fellow price enjoyer and just a gem, and I hope you all enjoy <3

Everything was just too much.

You’re stiff, jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and you can feel a migraine forming between your eyes. It’s a little ridiculous, really. By all accounts, you should be more relaxed. The hard work was finished, your novel was complete, the accompanying art had been chosen, and all the finer details were squared away; now, all that was left was publishing, though that was the publisher’s headache, not yours. It was the waiting that always got to you.

No matter how many times you’d gone through the process, no matter how many works you published, the anticipation never failed to eat away at you. There is a special kind of stress that comes with releasing your art into the world, in having people get a glimpse into your mind. While it’s gratifying to share your hard work with the masses, once it leaves you, it’s no longer only your own, and others are free to interpret it as they please. It’s deeply personal and scary like you’re bearing your soul to the public, but what’s done is done. All the late nights spent writing were over, and now you’re alone with your thoughts again. 

You’ve tried everything to keep yourself busy. Your office is far cleaner now than it was before your husband left, both of your laundry was done with all the garments being put in their rightful place, and there was a cake on the counter from your late-night baking excursion a few days ago. 

All of your usual distractions failed you. Nothing has been able to loosen the knot coiling itself in your chest. It’s silly; this is not your first book. The first was well received, a fact you should be grateful for, and you are. However, its success set a precedent. What if this one wasn’t as good? What if it didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations? The more questions you considered, the more withdrawn you became, allowing your doubts to swallow you whole. And that’s how you ended up back where you started, staring blankly at an empty document. You (foolishly) believed that writing could help, thinking a fresh idea would clear your conscience, but nothing comes. So you sit, hoping for anything to inspire you, but all you hear is the voice in the back of your head taunting you. 

For a fleeting moment, you consider seeking the comfort of your husband; however, you quickly decide against it. 

Not at all because you didn’t think he could soothe you. If anything, he knows better than anyone else how to keep you grounded, but you’re painfully aware of how rare it is for John to get time off, and it would be unfair to take that much-needed relaxation away from him with your problems. Still, you yearn for the solace he provides you. It’s absurd to miss someone who’s a mere twenty feet away, someone you could easily see. But, you stubbornly resist the temptation to steal his time, even if you know he’d want you to. He was insistent that you could never bother him, but you still had your doubts. 

Compared to everything he goes through, your insecurities are small and insignificant; you can handle this on your own, even though you feel your eyes beginning to dry the longer you stare at the bright white void in front of you. A long groan escapes you as you toss your glasses unceremoniously onto your desk (had they fallen? You couldn’t be bothered to check) before burying your head in your hands. 

“You’ve got this,” You mutter to yourself. It’s hardly convincing. Did you actually have this? You’re not entirely sure, but it doesn’t hurt trying.

You’re unsure how long you wallowed before your husband appeared in the doorway. Despite being uncharacteristically patient given the circumstances, you knew it was only a matter of time before he’d come to you. Rarely would you hide away in your office while he was home; usually, you’d rushed into his arms to steal his warmth every opportunity you got, but he tried to be understanding. Having him back in the house was just as much of an adjustment for you as it was for him, and he wanted to be considerate of that. Though his comings and goings had slowed considerably over the span of your relationship, he knew they still weighed on you, and he also knew you’d sooner die than admit that, so he gave you space.

But after another hour passes, his patience wears thin. This was a while even for you, and he wanted to make sure you were alright. So, ever the diligent lover, he prepares you a peace offering, a perfectly brewed cup of your favorite tea, and heads to your door. 

His suspicions that you weren’t as well off as you claimed are confirmed when he’s greeted with the back of your hunched-over form, papers strewn across your desk. It takes one glance at you for John to know the kind of evening you’re having despite your best efforts to hide it. The stress practically radiates off you, casting a thick layer of tension in the room. The last thing he wants is to startle you, so he watches, waiting for you to acknowledge his presence. But the longer he rests against the doorframe, the sooner he realizes you haven’t noticed him yet, another sign that something isn’t quite right. 

You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you were thinking. He can practically hear the voices in your head lying to you, slowly breaking you down, and he feels his heart clench. It’s times like this when he wishes your mind was kinder to you, that it afforded you the same kindness you so freely gave others. He also wished you would let him help you. Your independence has always been something he admired and was one of the first things he noticed that drew him to you. You were radiant, ethereal, having an air of confidence and grace about you that followed you wherever you went, practically lighting your path. 

However, your independence made it difficult for you to depend on him. He told you no fewer than a million times, practically pleaded with you to let him shoulder your burdens, to tell you that no problem was too small to tell him about, and while you’d opened up over the years, he could see that your walls were up. Nevertheless, he would do everything he could to chip away at them, to take you out of your head for a while.

He walks over to you slowly, placing the mug down before lightly rubbing your shoulders. You know he’s there, immediately feeling comforted by his presence, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. You don’t want him to see you like this, not while you look like a sad puppy, but he persists, taking your silence as an invitation to speak.

“Made you some tea, love,” he says softly, receiving only a muffled hum of acknowledgment. Undeterred, he keeps massaging your shoulders, applying a bit more pressure, a soft smile gracing his features when you lean into his touch. His movements are slow intentional, wanting to ease you into the feeling. 

He doesn’t have to look at your face, which has since been laid flat on your desktop, to know your brows are furrowed, and he wants nothing more than to smooth away the creases with his fingers. 

Instead, he turns your chair to face him, forcing you to pick your head up. He ignores the whine you let out upon realizing that he’s not going to let you bask in your sadness in peace, as well as the glare you give him as you put your glasses on. There’s no malice behind your gaze, and he can see you fighting back a smile, causing his grin to widen.

“Good morning, lovely.” 

“It’s not morning, and I probably look like shit” You sigh.

You’re right; it wasn’t morning, but the latter was far from the truth. John loved you in all your forms, but this, you at home in your comfy clothes, was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, even if you were being a little grouchy. He doesn’t take it personally. No, he knows you’re frustration is with yourself, which only motivates him to relax you more. 

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay; you both know you aren’t, so he settles with a more helpful question: asking what you need. It’s more a formality than anything because he already knows the answer. It’s clear you don’t want to talk because if you did, you would have by now. He’s no stranger to nights spent holding you, listening to you vent about everything troubling you as you lay your head on his chest, and while he welcomes your rambles, you’re too tangled up in your thoughts to get the words out. 

No, you needed something else. You needed a break; you needed someone you trusted to take control for a while, and who was better suited for the task than him? You both knew he wouldn’t move until you asked him to because even when he’s in control, he’s still at your mercy. 

You don’t answer him immediately, not that he expected you to. For all his gentle coaxing, the question was surprisingly direct, and it caught you off guard. You know what you want. You want to climb into bed, wrap yourself in blankets, and sleep, and no matter how much you try to deny it, you also want to melt into your husband’s touch while you do. But with how restless you are, that seems impossible. To do that, first, you would need to relax, something you’re notoriously bad at. John would be eager to assist, to soothe the storm that rages within you, but you also know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t help you if you didn’t ask. So, reluctantly, you confess you’re having trouble relaxing, that there are too many thoughts running through your head to turn your brain off. Once you start, it’s as if you’ve opened Pandora’s box and you just break. All the emotions you’ve tried to suppress come pouring out mostly incoherently. In your frenzy, you barely notice that John moved to kneel in front of you until you feel his hand cup your jaw. 

He doesn’t get too close, not wanting to overwhelm you, because he knows how hard this is for you already. 

You’re a lot like him in that way, birds of a feather, he supposes, as you both have difficulty opening up and trusting others. He’s forever humbled by the fact that you, wonderfully amazing you, chose him, and it’s not something he takes for granted. He values all of the time you spend together, even if you aren’t in the best of spirits. God knows he’s had his fair share of melancholic moments that you worked him through, and it is at that moment he is determined to do the same for you, to help you feel better. 

“Shh, it’s alright, love, I have you. There’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll take care of everything, alright? I’ll give you what you need,” He reassures you in that low timbre you’ve missed so much. Your nod is rewarded with a light kiss on the cheek before he stands up, pulling you up from your chair with him. 

You let out a yelp of surprise when he scoops you up and carries you towards your bedroom. His strength never fails to surprise you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it when he gently places you on the edge of your bed. For the second time tonight, he kneels before you, taking your hands in his while looking you in the eye.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” His question is met with a scoff.

“Of course I do. I don’t think there’s anyone in this world that loves me more.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not. Otherwise, we’d have a problem on our hands.” He chuckles, running his thumb over your knuckles before continuing, “I want you to do something for me. You’re so smart, love, bloody brilliant. But right now, I don’t want you to think. I just want you to feel. Can you do that f’me, angel? Let me make you feel good.” 

You nod as you did before, only this time, you’re met with a shake of his head.

“Need your words, sweetheart”

The “please” that escapes you is more breathless than you expected. He had hardly touched you, and you could already feel a bit dazed by the intensity of his stare. Your soft confirmation is met with a smile before he works you out of your sweats and guides you to lay flat on the bed. He takes his time to press kisses up your thigh, slowly making his way to your center, nipping every now and then, eliciting little gasps from you. And while you appreciate his desire to worship you, you were getting impatient. The sight of him so close to where you need him but not touching you was almost too much to bear. 

Before you can protest, he takes pity on you, slips your panties down, and rewards your patience with a long lick up your slit paired with a chaste kiss to your clit. 

Your moment of reprieve doesn’t last long before he absolutely devours you, laving at your folds without another care in the world. The strokes of his tongue are slow but firm, his mouth practically molded to your form, following you no matter how much you move and shake. He wants to get you used to the feeling, give you time to surrender yourself to him, and you’re starting to. He sees the way you grasp at the sheets, mindlessly looking for something, anything to anchor you, and he’s quick to provide. 

You hadn’t realized how much you were squirming until he pulled back, one calloused hand stroking your inner thigh with the other lacing his fingers with yours while instructing you to relax, reminding you to be good for him, to take all that he’s giving you. You look angelic, eyes rolled back, your body flushed, a sheen of sweat forming, and every touch driving you closer to the edge. But he knows it’s not enough. Had you been calmer and less frazzled, you would have reached your peak already, but right now, you need a push to help you over the edge.

When he takes his hand off your thigh and lets his fingers join his tongue, your back bows. If not for his firm grip, you may have fallen off the bed, but there is no need to worry about that. John’s got you; he always does. 

It’s overwhelming having him so wholly focused on you, feeling his deep, muffled groans against your center, and it’s clear he wasn’t faring much better. 

He may be helping you destress, but you know your husband well enough to know he’s enjoying this as much as you are, if not more. John Price is not a selfish man, far from it. Many have speculated that his selflessness will be his downfall. But, at this moment, he can’t help but think about himself. Can’t help but think about how his cock is straining in his trousers, which are becoming almost distractingly tight, about how he wants nothing more than to pump you full of his cum. But he’s a patient man. He understands that he’ll get there eventually. No, for now, he’s more than happy to have you soaking his beard. What’s important at this moment is getting you to cum on his tongue, on his fingers, because he knows the wetter you are, the easier it’ll be to slip into you, leaving him to settle for grinding himself against the bed for relief, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. 

Despite your whines and pleas for him to speed up, for him to give you more, he knows better. He keeps the same pace, knowing the slow build, while seemingly tortuous, will make you cum that much harder, and that’s exactly what he wants. He wants you boneless, without a single thought that isn’t him and how good he’s making you feel. There was no need to rush, you had all night, and there’s no place he’d rather be than here, with his fingers stuffed in your gorgeous pussy while he laps at your folds.

The sounds you two are making are nothing short of obscene. Your keens and his moans filled the room. And god, you were so fucking wet you were practically leaking down his wrist, and when your moans start rising in pitch, he knows you’re close. All it takes are a few more strokes of fingers before you’re cumming, your body going rigid with a broken sob. John works you through it, lapping up your spend and rubbing barely there circles around your clit to prolong your pleasure while patiently waiting for you to catch your breath. 

When your trembling subsides, he carefully removes his fingers, using his now free hand to smooth over your thighs, murmuring praises about how well you did for him before standing, finally ridding himself of his clothes. You look so beautiful like this, spread out, panting, still glistening with your release. It just makes him want to ruin you, but always the gentleman, he checks in with you first.

“Still with me, love?” he teases, hands soothing at your sides, earning him a laugh, a genuine laugh. One that makes your eyes crinkle, and a chuckle of his own leaves him in response. It’s a good sign; it’s progress, but he knows you’re not entirely unwound yet. He knows you still have more left in you.

You pull him in for a kiss that he eagerly accepts. It’s tender, intimate. You can taste yourself on his lips, and John’s complete and utter reverence for you almost makes you shy. His love for you flows through him and pours into his touch when he deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but lean into it.

“I want more. I need to feel you,” you confess against his lips. 

“How do you want me?” he murmurs, moving to trail kisses down your neck. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. All you have to do is ask,” and you know he means it. He’d bring you the moon and the stars if you wished. 

“From behind, I don’t want to think about anything but how good you feel,” you said, pulling away to lay on your stomach before being stopped by John’s hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. Your momentary confusion quickly dissipates when you realize what he’s doing. 

He’s taking off your glasses. 

Admittedly, in your haze, you’d forgotten you still had them on, so used to the familiar weight, but it makes your heart swell as you watch him place them delicately on your bedside table. It’s such a small gesture, but it’s endearing, and it reminds you how lucky you are to have such an attentive, caring lover, and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss. John adores the lovestruck look you give him as you pull away, eyes bleary, pupils dilated. And though he could look at it all day, he reluctantly moves away, readjusting you so you’re face down on the bed before slotting himself between your legs.

A contented sigh leaves you as you settle into your plush bedding, feeling thankful you’d insisted on replacing those threadbare monstrosities your husband called “sheets” (he’d huffed and rolled his eyes at your dramatics– “they are not going to rip your skin off” –but deep down he loved them too) and close your eyes, sinking into John’s touch. 

“Ready for me?” He questions, smoothing a hand up your spine, relishing in your shiver.

“Yes, need you to fuck me, John, please,” you breath, and who was he to deny you?

At your confirmation, he pushes in with a languid thrust, pulling you flush against him, giving you time to adjust. He can’t help but let out a low grumble at the view in front of him. He hasn’t even moved yet, and you’re already driving him insane. The feeling of being enveloped by you is indescribable. To be this close, to truly feel you, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and judging by the way you’re whimpering and trying to grind yourself back into him, he knows you feel the same. 

He sets a steady pace, unhurried, leisurely, and revels in the quiet mewls you let out. The tension pulling your muscles taut dissipated with every thrust, and John couldn’t be happier because that’s what he wanted. 

He wants to push all of those bad thoughts away. All he wants you to think about is him and how good he’s making you feel and to make you cum over and over until you’re spent. 

“That feel good, love?” he whispers in your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

“Yes, f-fuck s’good,” you gasp out, followed by a broken “I love you” that he returns while quickening his pace, fucking you deeper. He can’t help it, really. Hearing the fondness in your voice makes him want to worship you more, causing him to aim for the spot that always makes you shake, and he knows he’s got it when he hears your high-pitched keen.

You’re begging now, desperate pleas of “Please don’t stop” and “right there,” and he doesn’t need to see your face to know that your eyes are scrunched closed, mouth agape, to know that you look stunning. He wishes he could see your face, to see you when you reach your peak that you’re edging closer and closer to, and he will, but after you cum again for him.

“That’s it, good girl, always takin’ me so well,” he praises. “Take what you need. I won’t stop, promise. Just want to make you feel so good don’t want you to think about anything but cumming. You close f’me, love? Yeah? That pretty little cunt gonna soak my cock?” he questions, lifting your hips to rub your aching clit, knowing all you need is a little pressure to send you over the edge. 

Your words may be muffled, but your responding string of “yes” s are clear as day and only make him rut into you deeper. He needs you to fall over that edge again. Needs you to alleviate all that stress, and when you finally reach your peak with a muted sob of his name, he slows but doesn’t stop, watching in awe of the way you spasm around him, and waits for you to settle. 

You’re more pliant now, a bit hazy with pleasure, but he’s not done with you yet. No, he needs you, his beautiful, distinguished wife, to fully surrender yourself to him and the pleasure he’s bringing you, even if only for a while. All those years ago, he vowed to protect you, even if it’s from yourself, and he plans to do just that. He knows you have one more in you, and he intends to wring it out of you. 

A contented sigh escapes him as he pulls out before gently lifting you and laying you flat on your back once more. And when he sees your face, he’s reminded of just how breathtaking you are. Not that he ever forgot, but it’s a sight he never tires of. You’re one of the most precious beings he’s ever encountered, a goddess whom he’s eternally grateful has chosen to bless him with your presence, but now? Now, you’re glowing. He wishes he could immortalize the image in front of him, your eyes lidded, with a soft, blissed-out grin playing on your lips, but he’s brought back by the sound of your voice.

“You’re staring,” you tease, voice a little hoarse from use as you re-settle your glasses on your face.

“I could never get tired of looking at you, sweetheart,” he responds earnestly, unashamed that he had been caught because he truly could. There was just something about you that brought out such genuine affection in him. You give so much of yourself to others, and it makes him want to do everything in his power to pour the same love back into you. He can’t help but want to fulfill your every need. You deserve the world. Leaning into another kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t through words through his touch.

This is more passionate than the last, but he’s met with the same vigor from you. It’s easy to forget the task at hand, but your soft moans were enough of a reminder that he wasn’t finished with you yet. 

Lowering you back onto the bed, he guides himself into you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest while your mouth falls agape. There’s less pretense this time. You’re more than ready for him to start moving and thank god for it because as patient as he is, he’s only human, and you’re both getting desperate.

And when he pushes your knees towards your chest, laying your legs over his shoulders, the sound you make is borderline pornographic, and it’s then he realizes you may actually be the death of him. Holding himself back is proving more difficult by the second, so he opts for placing kisses on your calves to ground himself. He moves his hands, one going to hold the fat of your thigh for leverage while the other goes to cup your jaw. Any other time, he’d coax you to look at him, applying just enough pressure to make you face him, but he can see how overwhelmed you are.

Peering down at you, gaze unwavering, he sees your eyes barely open, all cloudy and lust blown, and he can’t help but tease you just a little, not that you mind.

“That’s it, this what you needed?” he practically coos at you, voice low and saccharine and growing gruffer by the second. “I haven’t been taking proper care of my angel, have I? No, no, that won’t do. Gotta make up for lost time. Poor thing, havin’ no one to fuck you properly when I’m not around. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

You try to answer, you really do, try to tell him you’ve missed him more and that no one makes you feel the way he does, but the words are like lead on your tongue, and your head is starting to feel fuzzy. The steady grind of his hips into yours and the feeling of being completely surrounded by him leaves you breathless, and all you can manage is a high-pitched sob that seems to satisfy him enough, and he keeps the pace. 

“Gonna be good and give me one more? Of course, you’re my perfect girl, always so obedient.” Your responding gasp is immediately met with praise. In truth, at the moment, you’d do just about anything he asked, and you could feel the pressure building quicker, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Don’t look away, love. Wanna see those pretty eyes get all teary for me” he murmurs, words slightly slurred, and you distantly realize he’s not as unaffected as you thought. “Look so good like this, just need you to let go. Can you do that? Gonna be my sweet girl and cum for me. Let go for me, love.” 

His gentle command, his firm grip, the pressure of him inside you paired with the almost feral glint in his eyes do you in, and before you know it, you’re back is arching, and you just gush for him with a soundless scream, soaking your lower halves. John isn’t far behind, and the relief of finally pumping you full is almost too much. You always get so tight when you cum, as if you don’t wanna let him go, so he indulges you, lowering your legs but not pulling out yet, instead opting to lay on top of you. 

For a while, neither of you moves, trying to gain your bearings, filling the room with your soft pants. 

Everything feels so serene, as if you two are the only people in the world. You exhale a contented sigh, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of John’s body weight atop you.

After some time, he pulls out, shushing your whine of protest with a quick kiss before pulling you into his chest. As you burrow yourself further into him, John wraps you up in his arms. You always get so clingy after, a fact you’re endlessly embarrassed by, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just another testament to how content, how safe you feel with him, and he cherishes the ability to give you the attention you crave.

Later, he’d clean you up, make you another cup of tea, seeing as the first was abandoned in your haste, get your favorite takeout, and set you up for a lazy night in, but for now, he holds you close. Warmth and exhaustion are seeping into your bones, and you peer up at John through your lashes and utter a quiet “thank you.” 

“No need to thank me, love. I’ll always be here for you,” he reminds, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead before continuing, “Get some sleep”

And as you drift off, you can’t help the upturn of your lips. Your mind was quiet, and you finally got the sleep you craved.

[fastidious-and-a-mess]

guys can we PLEASE stop shipping riz w people. honestly at this point i kind of don’t even care if you yourself are also acespec/arospec/aspec.

yes, aspec people can be in relationships, etc etc, but riz specifically has expressed over and over and over again that that is something he personally has absolutely zero interest in.

he’s not just canonically aroace, he also canonically does not want a relationship.

“aroace people can be happy in romantic/sexual/queerplatonic relationships” is a true statement. “people who do not want to be in any kind of monogamous committed relationship can be happy in a monogamous committed relationship” is quite a bit harder to argue.

i’m just so sick of it. i’m glad we all understand that there’s nuance to aspec identities, and everyone’s expressions of and experiences with their own aspec identities are going to be different and personal.

like, it’s not even just about the asexual/aromantic aspect anymore. it’s also just refusing to let him not want to be in a relationship. why are so many people so resistant to the idea that he does not want to be in a relationship. like genuinely, why can you not accept that there are people who just don’t want that. who would just be unhappy in a relationship. why can’t you wrap your head around the idea that wanting a relationship is not a thing that everyone secretly wants. like, No, he hasn’t just not “met the right person” yet. because there is no right person. because he’s simply not interested.

this post is kind of rambly and not as effectively phrased as it could be i think but idc.

TL;DR: riz being aroace is not the only reason to not ship him. he also, explicitly and repeatedly, has stated he does not want to be in a relationship. “aspec people can be in relationships” is completely irrelevant because regardless riz simply does not want a relationship. please just respect thag.

edit: plz don’t like this is u wont rb. i won’t guilt you into rbing, it’s ur blog i’m not ur dad do what u want etc etc. it’s just irritating for me personally to see ppl interacting w this but not willing to actually put it on their blogs.

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

Chapter three ❣︎ that boy is mine

i’m sorry that you, seem to be confused

he belongs to me, that boy is mine

❧ warnings: reader gets a drink thrown on her, but that’s really all! some mentions of sex (but nothing happens)

❧ wc: 3.6k

❧ Note: sorry for the long wait guys !!! school was kicking my butt, but i’m on spring break now!!

❧ masterlist

♥︎

You feel stunned for a moment. Which, honestly, you’re not sure if it’s because you so boldly asked Steve to fake-date you with barely any forethought, or if it’s because Steve agreed to it almost immediately.

“So you’re, um, you’re sure?” You stammer, cheeks beginning to flush.

Steve just shrugs, “Yeah, I guess. I mean it’s like you said- I wanna show Nance I can be the guy she wants.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes avoidant.

You hum, nodding your head. So you were doing this. Okay. Great.

Suddenly there’s a crash followed by a harsh yell, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’re quite literally at a raging highschool party. You clear your throat, “We should probably..”

Steve nods more aggressively, “Yeah, okay, let’s go.” He doesn’t even hesitate before he’s grabbing your wrist and forcing you inside the house, and you wish you’d never gone in.

It’s so loud, people scream way too explicit songs, girls dressed in the tiniest short-shorts and baby-tees (practically the opposite of your purple dress), and the boys are shirtless and downing bottles of alcohol like it’s apple juice.

“Jeez..” You mutter, unconsciously standing closer to Steve.

He chuckles, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips, “You okay, princess?”

You resist an eye roll, the nickname was anything but new to you. “How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?”

He furrows his brows and points to his ear, not so-subtly leaning closer to you, he says, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You scoff and shove past him, taking the lead confidently. Where you’re going, you’re not sure, but you figure your best bet to fit in is to head towards the kitchen where all the drinks are being served.

You cautiously make your way through countless sweaty bodies, praying Steve is still following you and didn’t leave you stranded.

You turn around to make sure he’s still there and - he’s not. “Oh my god.” You grumble, eyes darting across the room, but there’s so many bodies you can’t even spot Steve in the crowd. “Shit.” You whisper. Suddenly you feel self-conscious. You weren’t used to being at a party like this with Steve let alone by yourself.

You take a breath and continue on your path. You assume if Steve wants to find you he’ll meet you there, and if not then… well, you’re not very sure.

There’s multiple boxes of canned beers along with a giant punch bowl. You aren’t sure what your chances are that the punch isn’t spiked, but the atmosphere is making you feel dehydrated, so you take your chances and grab a cup.

You swirl it in your hands for a few moments, before you finally decide to just down the whole thing. You immediately wish you hadn’t. It tastes bitter and you shiver as it slides down your throat. “God,” You cough, “What's in this?”

“I heard some guy earlier say ‘pure fuel’. Not sure how helpful that is though.” You whip your head around and are met with the sight of the very man you’d been hoping for. Jonathon.

You feel your lips subconsciously twitch into a smile, “More like pure vodka.” You joke. Jonathon chuckles and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, and you honestly have no idea how he’s even wearing that thing with all the body heat in the house.

“I didn’t think you’d show.” He says, and you shrug and lean against the counter, “Were you waiting for me?” You nearly surprise yourself with your boldness. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

“Of course I was,” Jonathon says casually, “We’ve barely seen each other since I moved back.”

You hum, cheeks flushing a little at Jonathon’s casual answer. It’s like he doesn’t even know the effect he has on you.

“Yeah.” You hum. The conversation goes silent after that, Jonathon sips on his beer casually while you stare at the ground. It’s weird, you’ve imagined yourself in this exact scenario so many times. You’d always know what to say to charm him, but now that it’s actually reality you find the words getting stuck on your tongue.

“Oh,” Jonathon nods his head to something behind you, “there’s Steve.” You turn around and promptly find the said man to be in what looks to be a very uncomfortable conversation with Tina Tarsden, a girl who was very well known for her obsession with Steve.

Jonathon walks past you silently, most likely on his way to attempt to save Steve from the conversation, and you awkwardly follow behind.

Steve clearly looks relieved once he catches sight of Jonathon. You’re hidden behind him, which means neither Steve or Tina are aware of your presence.

“Hey, man!” Steve says, “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Tina scrunches her nose at the interruption and takes a bitter sip of her beer. “Jonathon,” She drawls, placing a hand on his bicep. It makes your blood boil. “How’re you and Nancy?”

Jonathon shifts uncomfortably on his feet, “Uh, fine. I guess.” He mutters. Tina just hums, clearly uninterested in the conversation. “Have you heard about Steve’s latest whore?”

Suddenly you feel like this is a conversation you’re not meant to be present for, but you need to know if news about yours and Steve’s “relationship” has really already spread that quickly. Jonathon laughs awkwardly, “Uh, no. I haven’t heard about Steve’s latest… fling.” His voice jumps an octave at the end.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed, he says, “Tina, i’ve told you this a thousand times! Who I date isn’t any of your business.” He sighs, “I'm sorry I'm not into you like you’re into me, but you just need to get over it.”

Tina grips the plastic cup in her hand tighter, cheeks flushing with rage. “I’d agree if you weren’t dating that prude Y/N L/N!”

Now, after her very rude and untrue comment, you think it’s a good moment to make yourself known. You move from behind Jonathon, arms crossed over your chest as you shoot Tina an icy glare. “This whole jealousy thing really isn’t a good look for you, Tina.”

Her jaw drops tightly but she’s quick to pick it up. Her eyes are burning with a rage you'd rarely ever seen pointed at you. “You bitch.” She mutters, taking a step closer to you. Steve watches her cautiously, clearly ready to step in at any moment. Jonathon on the other hand is shocked. “You guys are dating? Since when?” He asks.

You exchange a look with Steve over his question. Neither of you had really discussed your timeline or even how this fake relationship had started yet. Steve makes up a quick excuse, “Uh, I'll tell you another time, man.” Jonathon accepts this answer, but Tina does not.

“I mean, you can do so much better than this… child!” Tina growls, pointing a manicured finger at you. “Look at that dress she’s wearing!”

By this point a small crowd has begun to form around the four of you, and you shift uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s stares. You look down at your dress, “What’s wrong with what I'm wearing?” You mutter to yourself. Sure, you’ve always known your style to be a little different to most kids your age, but you’d never been criticized about it before.

Tina scoffs, “You dress like an eighty year old grandma!”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Well, last I checked Steve chose this grandma and not you..” You spit back.

Steve laughs at this, but covers it with a cough as soon as Tina turns around and shoots him a hard glare. “I doubt Steve chose you,” She says, voice dripping with venom, “He probably just needed a quick and easy fuck. You guys are neighbors aren’t you?”

Her implication makes you angrier than you were before. To have Tina Tarsden, the biggest slut in Hawkins, imply that you were putting out so easily is laughable.

You step closer to her, “If Steve wanted a quick and easy fuck, all he’d have to do is whistle and you’d come running.”

Tina does not like this reply at all. Actually, she dislikes it so much that she throws her drink at you. The cold liquid soaks through your dress and ruins your hair and makeup. You stand there dripping onto the hardwood for a couple seconds in pure shock, and by the time you come to and go to retaliate you find that Tina has already walked away. Instead, both Steve and Jonathon are in front of you.

“Shit, are you okay?” Jonathon asks, hand reaching for your bicep to hold you steady. Your eyes shine at him, but if it’s because of the oncoming tears or the lighting you’re not sure.

You know you pushed Tina. You stooped to her level and caused her to become so enraged she threw her drink at you. But, still, you loved this dress. You loved it more than you loved yourself. And now it reeked of alcohol and had a large light brown stain right on the front of it.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You mumble, hands shaking slightly as you ball them at your side. “Here i’ll take you home-” Jonathon begins, but Steve stops him. “I got it. Besides, you’ve been drinking. I haven’t touched any alcohol tonight.”

Jonathon nods, “Yeah. Right. I forgot you guys were dating now.” He says it questioningly, like the idea had never crossed his mind as even being a possibility, and honestly, it’d never crossed your own before tonight either.

Steve shoots him a tight smile, before he’s gently reaching around your middle to cup your waist and lead you out of the house. You blindly follow him, mind too preoccupied on the night's events to even notice how large Steve’s hands feel on you. How warm they are against your now freezing skin.

As you walk through the weaves and weaves of people, you aren’t sure if the girl you see walking in Jonathon’s direction is Nancy or just your mind playing a trick on you. You’re hoping and praying it’s the latter.

You barely even register Steve softly ushering you into his car, not until it’s already in motion and the heaters blast onto your cold skin. You wince at the coldness, and reach forward to turn them away from you. Steve mumbles a sorry from beside you, and you turn to look at him and the smile he’s very clearly holding back. You sit in silence for a few more moments, before he glances at you from the corner of his eye and suddenly you’re both bursting out in laughter from the situation.

“She- she dumped her drink on me!” You say between breaths, holding your stomach as you cackle. Steve does his best to keep his eyes on the road as he does the same, “I seriously didn’t know you had it in you, princess! I mean, ‘he’d whistle and you’d come running’ that was comedy gold!”

Your giggling dies out slowly, and silence replaces it. You know there’s so many things you need to talk about, but you’re not sure if now is the right time. But before you can speak up Steve’s already pulling into your driveway.

You swallow, “So, when should we, um, talk about… this.” You gesture between both of you awkwardly.

Steve clears his throat, “I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

You smile, “Okay.” And then you bid him goodnight.

🝮

Your dress was ruined. You’d spent a good portion of last night attempting to get it out with Monica’s help to no avail.

You stare at it sadly now, wondering if there was anything you could do to save it. After a couple more moments of contemplating you decide there isn’t, and promptly throw it in the garbage. You’ll have a funeral for it soon.

“I’m sorry, babes.” Monica murmurs from beside you, rubbing your arm comfortingly. You shrug her off, “It’s just a dress. There’ll be others.”

Monica nods, and you pretend you don’t see the disappointment in her face at your subtle rejection. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m glad you’re being so level headed about this, I definitely wouldn’t be.” She jokes.

You give a strained chuckle, hoping to break the awkward tension that fills the space between the both of you. Newsflash, it doesn’t.

Monica looks as uncomfortable as you feel. “Look, Y/N, I know I’m not-”

Suddenly the doorbell rings and you practically jump up to answer it. Monica sighs but doesn’t say anything as you walk away from her. You subconsciously thank god for saving you from an awkward conversation you lost definitely did not want to have.

Unsurprisingly, Steve waits on the other side of the door. His hair is slightly messy and he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans, and compared to his usual school clothes this is much more casual. You on the other hand had stuck with a pretty white dress and a pair of black converse.

“You should’ve called before you just showed up.” You mumble, but still step to the side and let him in.

Steve just shrugs, “I’ll remember that next time.”

No, he won’t. You just roll your eyes in response.

Steve stumbles into your living room and plops himself onto the couch, where you had laid out a single notebook and two pens.

“What’s this for?” Steve asks.

You take a breath and sit next to him, “This,” You say, smoothing your dress over your knees, “Is our contract.”

Steve raises a brow, “Contract?”

“Yes, contract. Because I’ll be damned if we say one wrong thing and expose ourselves to the whole school.”

“I think you’re being a little over dramatic about this whole thing.”

“You say that, and then at our twenty year reunion people are going to be asking you about that one time you faked a relationship and it totally backfired.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Okay, whatever.”

You smile approvingly. If only Steve was this complacent all the time. “I think we should start out with some ground rules.” You say.

Steve nods and leans forward to grab a pen, “Okay. I’ll write down the first one.”

You’re a little surprised by his initiative, but allow him to do so.

You soon regret it though, because the first rule he writes says “must change wardrobe”.

You immediately go to take the notebook and scribble the rule off, but Steve snatches it away from you. “Hey, hey! A rule is a rule!”

“We’ll, that’s a stupid rule!”

He scoffs, “It is not!” He winces, “Look, as much as I hate to admit it, Tina was a little bit right about your outfits. Then make you look like a grandma.”

You scoff out a laugh, your jaw dropping. “Was this seriously a thing that no one had thought to tell you before? Were they just gonna let you love the rest of your life dressed as a ninety year old woman? You’d never let Steve know that his words got under your skin, so instead you retorted with, “Well, it’s not like you have the best style known to man either.”

Steve shrugs, “I never said I did.”

You stare at him, hoping that at some point he’ll break, but he doesn’t, instead he just stares back.

After wait feels like forever you finally just throw your arms up and say, “Fine! I’ll go shopping.”

Steve tuts, “I don’t trust you to do that by yourself, so I’ll be going with you.”

You scoff, “No way! I’ll just take Robin.”

Steve grimaces and thinks about Robins denim jackets and platform shoes, “Yeah, that’s a no.”

You groan and flop back into the couch, “You suck, you know that?”

Steve just grins, “And yet, you asked me to date you.”

“Fake date, get it right, Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, and instead puts the notebook in your lap, “I think it’s your turn.”

You didn’t know this turned into a turn-taking thing, but you don’t argue.

For the second rule you write down what you think is the most obvious one, no one can know. Not even your families.

Steve doesn’t argue with this one, he just hums and practically snatches the notebook from you to write down the third rule. Must drive to school together. You find this one to be a little odd, but seeing as you’ve never been the biggest fan of driving, you don’t object.

Now it’s your turn, and you have a weird feeling this one might be a little controversial with Steve. No kissing.

Steve immediately disagrees, “How's anyone gonna believe we’re dating if I can’t kiss you?”

“We’ll just say we’re taking things slow!”

Steve gives you a pointed look, and you sigh. “What if.. you only miss me on the cheek?” Another look.

“You’re not going to make me change my mind.” You say.

Steve groans, “Fine! We’ll stick to.. cheek-kissing or whatever.”

You smile gratefully and hand the paper back to Steve, but he just shrugs and hands it back to you. Since neither of you have anything else to add, you scribble to lines at the bottom and sign your name.

Steve snorts, “This is so dorky.” But he does the same.

“Alright, now we need to get our stories straight.” You sigh, arms crossing over your chest.

Steve just shrugs, “Well just say we decided to start dating on a random tuesday afternoon. There, easy.”

“What’re you gonna say when people ask what led to the conversation, or when we realized we didn’t hate each other anymore, huh?”

Steve groans, “Fine. What do you think we should say?”

You smile, “I’m so glad you asked. I thought about it last night, and I think we should say you realized you had feelings for me a couple weeks ago and then ran to my house in the pouring rain and confessed your love for me.”

“We’re not saying that.”

You frown, “Why not? It’s cute!”

Steve shakes his head, “Because this ain’t one your cheesy rom-coms. Why don’t we just say you were helping me out with a project and we realized we didn’t hate each other and decided to give a relationship a try.”

You hated to admit it, but Steve was right. That sounded way more believable. “Okay. Fine. Whenever. We’ll stick with your boring story.”

Steve just grins, “Atta girl.”

You both sit in silence for a few moments, the paper sitting idiot in front of you. Suddenly, you smack your hands on your knees, “This has been so much fun but I think it’s time you went home!”

Steve furrows his brows, “What do you mean? We’re going shopping together.”

That's how you find yourself in your current position, following Steve as he pushes a cart through Kohls.

Every piece of clothing he’s pointed out to you has been completely out of your comfort zone, but you allowed him to stuff them into the cart anyway.

You draw the straw at a tank top covered in yellow sunflowers. Not like, just one in the middle, no. There was not a single space without a sunflower on it.

“I will never wear that.”

Steve wiggles it in front of you, “Come on, it’s cute!”

“It’d be even cuter in hell.”

Steve just chuckles and tosses it back onto the rack, “We probably have enough stuff already anyway.” You sigh, hoping Steve takes it as a signal that you’re ready to be done with this and just go home. While yes, he does understand that the overflowing cart is most definitely enough stuff, he doesn’t understand that you’re ready to go home. Instead, he leads you to a dressing room.

“I’m not trying on all of that! It’ll take me hours!”

Steve just shrugs, “You better get started then.”

You go to argue, but he just shakes his pointer finger at you, “Rule number one, sweetheart.”

You hate that he’s right, and you hate yourself even more for even agreeing to that stupid rule.

You dramatically grab a handful of clothes, two pairs of jeans and three crop tops, and walk into the dressing room with them.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way the jeans made your ass look, and two of the crop tops actually aren’t that bad.

You yell at Steve to hand you another set of outfits, but he tells you to just get them yourself. God, why are men so lazy?

You exit the dressing room still wearing the jeans and a black, off the shoulder crop top.

Steve looks up from the floor once he hears the door open, and he nods. “Yeah,” He lets out a wolf-whistle, “You look great.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, something you’d never expected to hear from Steve Harrington. “Funny you think I care what you think.” You retort.

Steve just shrugs “I never said you did, I was just saying,” He eyes you up and down, brown eyes lingering on your curves, “You look good.”

You just roll your eyes and slam the dressing room door in his face, hoping and praying he doesn’t see the way your cheeks and ears had tinged a soft shade of red.

Besides, Steve Harrington is still that annoying kid you’d met all those years ago. There’s no reason for you to be blushing at some compliment he didn’t even mean.

And yet, you are.

♥︎

taglist! (dm to be added!): @carinacassiopeiae

[olderthannetfic]

The weird thing about this website is so many people who get really high and mighty about how they’d never stan fictional villains who commit fictional atrocities are the same ones who end up stanning real atrocity committing dictators like Putin a few years later. Like it’s really funny to see blogs that would performatively get angry at someone for being a Snape fan 2 years ago are often now Stalin fandom tankies.

And honestly I was thinking about this and I’m not sure these things are unconnected. Making yourself resistant to radicalization means recognizing how it works and also that it could work on you. And it crucially means recognizing the difference between someone having a fun and engaging personality vs. them having good political goals and policies.

I think people who can recognize that a fictional character is fun as a character to watch because they’re charismatic, silly, hot, etc. but also recognize that they did horrible things is thus going to be similarly better equipped to do that same calculus with real people.

Whereas a lot of “antis” have this idea that they’re inherently morally superior and even just learning *about* bad things will somehow taint that. And also they don’t have to worry because they’re too moral to ever be tempted anyway.

The easiest way to be a target for this stuff is to decide it’ll just never happen to you, so you refuse to even consider the possibility as it is happening. And there are clearly a lot of people being radicalized now by playing into their perception of themselves as more progressive and virtuous than anyone else.

(But seriously this isn’t just a hypothetical, a whole bunch of the current big Tumblr tankies like h3ritageosts have long histories of being sanctimonious moralists toward fandoms that stan the wrong characters or media or whatever. And now they’re stanning the Kim family and Putin and creating “Zionist blocklists” that are largely *anti*-Zionist/pro-Palestine bloggers who just happen to also be Jewish, and calling them “genocide apologists” while engaging in actual apologia themselves for other genocides.

Like, whatever stanning fictional villains is doing to me, at least it’s not that.)

--

[tainbocuailnge]

folinic is genuinely such a good unit please raise your folinic there's so many fun little niches folinic can fill please listen to my folinic manifesto

folinic was the game's first Medic That Can Hurt You!!! respect your ancestors!!! they later refined this concept into incantation medics but the big weakness of incantation medics is that they need to have enemies in range in order to heal allies which isn't the case for folinic, if there's no enemies to hit she just blasts allies instead. she won't be killing strong enemies on her own the way reed can cast explode your dick but she's great at helping thin out large numbers that threaten to overwhelm your blockers. as you can see the uptime on her skill is pretty decent and since it's splash attacks that prioritise enemies she can reach allies that are blocking enemies just outside her range with it or just pull double duty as aoe healer for a bit

s2 is the one people usually think of when they remember folinic exists but her s1 is actually strong as fuck and it scales really hard with masteries too i just haven't gotten around to that yet, it upgrades to two extra tiles of range at m1 and goes all the way to +80% atk for 30sp at m3. it has good uptime it very straightforwardly jacks up her healing and it gives you a lot more leeway with positioning because of the huge range it gives her, criminally underrated skill she's just straight up a strong medic even without her funny meme skill

folinic by default has status resistance and reduced damage from environmental effects for herself and with her module she gets the unique niche of being able to extend that reduced environmental damage to other team members, meaning you have much less healing pressure from things like poison mist and sandstorms just by having her on the field and you can cover even more allies with it through her s1 range extension. i actually have no idea if this also works on tile effects like active originum or nethersea brand i should experiment with that sometime but the status resistance alone already makes her more reliable than her colleagues when there's another fucking ice altar stage or something

folinic is a fucking god in the workshop she can make you 24 tier 2 mats in one sitting she's worth the e2 for this alone honestly

she's FREE she comes free with your fucking xbox go get your FREE fucking folinic RIGHT NOW

[woodlaflababab]

Thinking about Aang and Iroh and their parallels when it comes to Zuko.

I mean, they are such similar characters and one of my biggest regrets with the show is that we only get one scene with the two of them interacting. That's a damn shame. Even just beyond the fact that they're both wise, humorous, and centered on peace (though they have different ways to go about it), they both have two distinct and very different parts of their lives.

Iroh has the beginning of his life, which was centered around training to be Firelord and fighting a war, and then after Lu Ten died, where he gave up all of that and pursued something very different.

Aang has the beginning of his life which was about peace and childhood (and mastering his element) and then after he woke from the iceberg in which he was thrown into the world and his role as the avatar.

And it is these events that bring them to Zuko. Without them, neither of them would have had the relationship with Zuko that they do, Aang wouldn't even know him.

For both of them, Zuko reminds them of a loved one they lost (one in which they feel even a little bit responsible for that loss) Lu Ten and Kuzon, and to both of them, Zuko is one of the things that lessen the tragedy they went through. Iroh learns to love Zuko as one of his own and Zuko becomes one of Aang's best friends (each having Zuko fill the place of the person they lost.) (Aang even explicitly says one of the bright sides of the iceberg was the new people he gets to meet. "I did get to meet you." - Aang @ Katara)

They also both relate to and understand Zuko even if Zuko doesn't recognize that. Iroh understands being caught up in the fire nation propaganda and chasing an idea. (Honor for Zuko, Glory for Iroh.) Aang understands the pain of being ripped from your home and understands the way pain can drive you to do things you would never dream of doing otherwise.

They both are endlessly forgiving of Zuko. No matter how many insults Zuko throws at Iroh, no matter how much fire Zuko throws at Aang, they refuse to stop caring for him. Iroh in the form of standing by his side and Aang in the form of saving his ass again and again and offering him friendship.

Honestly, I think part of Zuko's frusteration with Katara's very reasonable unwillingness to forgive him as soon as he does something right is because he's a little bit spoiled on the forgiveness he has always gotten from Iroh and Aang. (And I also think Katara's resistance makes Zuko appreciate her forgiveness and thus their forgiveness so much more, especially when Iroh immediately forgives him once again at the end.)

It is Iroh's and Aang's patience and virtue that allow Zuko to grow and become the person he becomes. They are the two biggest influences on his change and both their influences are so similar in many ways. Iroh stands on the inside never leaving Zuko's side and Aang stands on the outside constantly offering a place by his own side.

I don't think it is a coincidence that Zuko had to lose Iroh's help and forgiveness to realize he needs to seek Aang's help and forgiveness.

Both of them have made mistakes with Zuko. Both had a phase where they realized they needed to turn their back on Zuko because of the pattern of behavior he's shown (dispite him trying to show different levels of repentance) and both welcome Zuko in once he has made it clear that behavior has ended and his change is true. Both love him, not because of what he's done, but because he has inherent value as a person and because they know deep down there is something good inside him.

Both of their relationships with Zuko are beautiful.

[mischievousmary]

Headcanons!

Solangelo:Will Is More Clingy towards Nico during the summer because Nico has a naturally cold temperature. And Will has a high body temperature, so Will Enjoys Holding Nico and Touching his bare skin because it cools him down. Nico is not a fan of Will when he initiates cuddles while being all sweaty from the heat.(i think i got this idea from @yonemurishiroku. I'd feel guilty if I didn't give credit honestly)

Valdangelo: Many people assume Leo is the Overly Affectionate boyfriend, and Nico hated when anyone touched him. But Leo knew that Nico Initiated Cuddles just as much as Leo did. The difference was that Leo didn't mind doing it in public, while Nico preferred to keep it private.

Valdangelo again: Leo had spent Weeks Trying to Convince Nico to Come up with a super cool handshake they could do whenever they greeted each other. Nico eventually did learn the handshake, but unfortunately For Leo, Nico had never promised that he would use it.

Jasico: Jason can't help but stare at Nico when he's deep in thought or reading a book. He finds Nico's intense focus and furrowed brow incredibly endearing. Sometimes, Jason can't resist the urge to Take a Picture of Him and Make an album full of Pictures of him.

Jasico: Jason loves to watch Nico sleep. He finds peace in seeing Nico so peaceful and vulnerable, and it reminds him of just how lucky he is to have Nico in his life. Sometimes, Jason will gently brush a strand of hair away from Nico's face, savoring the intimate moment.

Nicobaster: Nico playing the piano and Alabaster playing the violin. Their music is hauntingly beautiful and has a way of touching people's souls.♥️

Nicobaster: Alabaster loves to tease Nico about his serious and brooding demeanor. Whenever Nico gets caught up in his thoughts or has his normal Grumpy expression, Alabaster will jokingly ask if Nico hasn't yet had his morning fuel (coffee). Nico will usually roll his eyes or give Alabaster a playful shove, but there's always a hint of a smile or blush on his face. But there's sometimes he just Simply Whacks Him upside the head.

I need people to request any ship or character content so I can let my people pleasing come out and force me to post something actually enjoyable.😕

[kiwixlime]

Say It Louder

V is for Virgin

It’s a post-apocalyptic world. Relationships are hard to maintain. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re crushing on your dad’s best friend. But what your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Warnings: Age difference, loss of virginity (reader), daddy kink, unprotected p-in-v (it’s the end of the world), oral (f receiving), fluff, teasing, dirty talk bc i can’t resist, joel is gentle but also fucking feral, angst of course, touch of violence at the end lmao. Potential for this to turn into a series. Please do not engage if this topic is uncomfortable for you. In this, reader is 21, but I understand it’s still not everyone’s cup of tea. Do not feel obligated to read! 

Nighttime in Jackson is surprisingly lively. You indeed have nothing to compare it to. But from what you’ve experienced in your 21 years on Earth, growing up in this doomsday scenario, nightlife in your town just feels right. It feels normal. At least, what you think normal would be. 

There’s a bar where the residents like to hang out after long grueling days. Many of the patrol groups gather after their shifts are over to relax and mingle, comparing gruesome stories or funny instances. Your dad tells you it’s like the old days when he’d get off work and meet his buddies at a place in the city. You have no idea what that’s like, but the fondness in his eyes is enough for you to know it’s a good thing. 

So you’ve come to enjoy spending time at the bar with everyone. You like to be social, and put yourself out there to get to know others. Especially the guys. Of course, you’ve built yourself up a reputation by doing this. 

You’re a young girl, you’re flirtatious, and for a while, you were a little boy crazy. So people started to talk. Whispers of you being a slut made their way around town. But you knew the truth. You haven’t done anything with any of these boys.

They’re all immature assholes in your eyes. They don’t deserve you. And on top of that, your heart yearns for someone else. A man. 

Granted, he’s your father’s best friend. So he’s totally off-limits. But that doesn’t stop you from admiring him. Or thinking about him in ways your father would not approve of. It doesn’t even stop you from flirting with him from time to time. 

But honestly, how could anyone ignore a guy like Joel Miller? He is literally the most attractive man you’ve ever met. And it’s not just his looks, even though his eyes are dreamy and his physique is downright sinful. His maturity is part of what makes him sexy. He’s above and beyond any of the guys you’ve dated in the past. 

And yeah, you fell hard. You feel lucky that you get to spend so much time with Joel, even if it’s because of your father. You’ve gotten to know the older man somewhat well, and you have a pretty decent relationship with him. He’s not blind to your flirting, indulging you sometimes, and writing it off as a silly little crush. But deep down you think he knows he’s fueling this fire. You think he likes the attention you provide. 

You’ve never seen Joel with another woman. You were always curious to know why, but a quick discussion with Ellie once told you that he’d never been interested in anyone. You find that hard to believe, but you don’t question it. If no one’s caught his eye before, maybe you can be the first. It’d be an honor. 

You think you have a bit of a head start already. Sure, you’re young and naive. But you know when a guy is into you. Most of them don’t hide it very well. And you’ve noticed Joel’s eyes lingering on you on more than one occasion. You just have to crack him. It can’t be that hard. 

Currently, you’re strolling down the streets of Jackson, heading to the bar where you know your dad is probably hanging out with Joel for the night. You’re wearing one of your cutest outfits, a light lavender sundress that ties at your shoulders, hugs your waist, and flows out at the bottom reaching mid-thigh. You feel beautiful in this dress. Just something about it lifts your spirits. 

So of course you’d wear it to encounter the man of your dreams. 

When you enter the building, you spot your father immediately. He’s sitting at one of the tables with Joel and Tommy, speaking animatedly while they listen and laugh along. Your focus stays on Joel, smiling a little as he smiles. Wow. You could stare at him forever. 

To your delight, Joel’s the first one to notice you, jaw dropping a little as his eyes rake over your body. He bites his tongue when you catch him staring, a sly grin spreading over your perfect lips. You’re too cute for your own good and you know it, which makes it even worse. Joel shakes his head and looks back at your father, nodding in your direction. 

Your father turns in his chair and smiles brightly at you. He waves you over with his hand. “Pumpkin!” He exclaims, calling you out by his favorite nickname for you. 

You cross to their table with a little bounce in your step and notice as Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat. You smirk, knowing his discomfort is a direct result of the way your body fills out the dress, maybe jiggling a little in all the right places. Good, you have his attention. 

Stopping when you reach them, you lean over to wrap your arms around your father’s neck. You give him a quick hug, pecking him on the cheek. “Hi, daddy,” you say happily as you stare Joel down. 

Your poor father, unaware of what his sweet daughter is thinking, grins at your greeting. “Hey, sweetie, what are you doing here?”

You shrug, pulling away from and drawing your gaze away from Joel to look at your dad. “I was wondering when you planned on heading home? I’m going to Violet's for a little while and I didn’t want you to worry.” 

He looks at you, feeling proud, grabbing your hand before turning to the guys. “Such a good kid, isn’t she?” He asks, his words genuine. You smile shyly at the two men, tongue slipping between your lips as you look at Joel. 

It’s like he knows exactly what you want with the way he stares at your lips. Your filthy thoughts are practically leaking from your pretty little head as you hover around them. You want Joel to agree with your father. Yes, you want him to say. You are such a good girl. The fantasy makes your body run warm and you have to look away before they see you blush. 

“I’ll be home in a little bit,” your father says. “Don’t worry about me. Have fun with Violet. And behave!” He adds, knowing you have a tendency to get the poor girl in trouble. What can you say? You’re a bad influence. 

You nod your head politely, giving him a sweet smile. He accepts the gesture and turns, but you let your gaze linger, eyes lighting up when you and Joel catch a glance at one another. His jaw is tense as you wink, swiveling on your heels so your little dress twirls, riding up the tiniest bit so he can see a flash of your white cotton panties. You don’t look back as you prance out of the bar, knowing in your heart that Joel Miller has to sit the rest of the time he’s with your father hiding a boner. 

Your mood only brightens when you get to Violet’s. She knows about your obsession with Joel, and honestly, it scares her. She’s more sheltered than you, and she definitely worries more. Every time you talk lustfully about the older man her anxious brain spins into a tizzy. 

You’re surprised she’s even friends with you. God knows her life would be so much easier, and way less stressful if you weren’t in it. On the other hand, it’d probably be, like, super boring as well. 

On her bed, you talk about what life would be like outside of Jackson while she reads the same book she’s read twelve times already. It’s funny how she’s come to be your best friend. The two of you are complete opposites, but that’s why you work together so well. 

She flips through the pages but listens to you as you talk about getting away from here, heading for the beach or someplace tropical. Every once in a while she’ll chime in on how dangerous it could be starting somewhere new, but you think you could take on that challenge. 

“What about you?” You ask her, rolling to the other side of the bed, meeting her where she sits on the floor. “If you could leave Jackson, would you?” 

She places her bookmark to save her page and sets her book down. She looks off in thought before turning her attention to you. “I’m not sure,” she says quietly. “We’re safe here. I know it gets boring, but I like it. I like my home and I like the weather.” 

You nod, understanding her reasonings. But you crave excitement. You crave adventure. If you could get with Joel…

“I think I’m gonna do it,” you say, shifting so you’re on your back. You stare up at her ceiling, sighing dreamily. 

“Oh, no,” she groans. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m gonna tell Joel how I feel,” you state with finality. “Yeah, I’m just gonna tell him that I like him. That I want him. And see what happens.” 

“That is such a bad idea,” she cringes, hiding her face behind her hands. “Oh my god, you cannot do that! What would your father say?” 

“Who says he has to know?” You scoff. “I don’t tell him everything.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she says, internally panicking. You’re thinking of what Joel’s lips feel like and she’s thinking about how this could destroy the town. “What do you even see in him? He’s the same age as your dad!” 

“So?” You snap, glaring down at her. “He’s hot and funny and charming.” Your words come out in a breathy sigh. “I bet he has a big dick.” 

Violet squeals and grabs a pillow off her bed, hiding her embarrassed face. You can’t help but laugh, sliding down off the bed so you’re sitting next to her. She mumbles something into the pillow, and your giggles get louder. When she pulls away, her face is beet red. “I can’t believe you’re a virgin,” she whispers. 

You shrug your shoulders as your thoughts drift off to Joel. “Maybe not for long.” 

A few days later, you find yourself upstairs in your room, dying from the summer heat. You were outside listening to an old iPod you found until the sun became too much, then you had to head indoors. Now, you’re on your bed, writing down your thoughts of the day in your journal. 

The previous pages are all filled with thoughts on Joel. Unfortunately, you haven’t had any alone time with him recently. So much to Violet’s relief, you haven’t told him your feelings. Yet. 

But there’s hope. You know your father is supposed to meet with him today. And you know Joel has a habit of showing up earlier than expected when your dad isn't around. You have a theory that he does it so he can see you. But you’ve never tested it. Until now. 

As if on cue, there’s a loud knock on your front door, followed by Joel’s deep voice. “Hello? Joseph, are you here?” 

Excitement flows through you and you slam your journal shut, shoving it beneath your pillow. You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead before calling out to him. “He’s not home yet!” You yell. “I’m upstairs!” 

For whatever reason, Joel takes that as an invitation and decides to follow the sound of your voice. He cautiously climbs the stairs as he heads for your room. Oh, he knows he shouldn’t be up here. Curiosity killed the cat. 

But satisfaction brought it back. 

He enters your room, stunned when he sees you on your bed, hair up high in a messy bun to keep off your neck. A white tank top hugs your top half, leaving little to the imagination. Beads of sweat drip down your chest, beneath the flimsy fabric, gliding down between the valley of your breasts hidden where he can barely see. The shorts you wear certainly have an effect on him and he has to force his eyes elsewhere. 

Dangerous, he has put himself in a dangerous situation here. “Uh, hey,” he says, avoiding eye contact and glancing around your room. 

“You here for my dad?” You ask innocently, staring at him in the hopes he’ll look at you again. 

Joel nods. “I’m a bit early,” he trails off. 

You smile to yourself. You already knew that. He’s here to see you. 

“You’ve been coming over a lot,” you point out, and that grabs his attention. He raises an eyebrow in confusion, wondering where you’re going with this statement. “And it seems like you come earlier and earlier each time,” you say. You watch his chest rise as he takes in a deep breath. “You’re here to see me, aren’t you?” 

“What?” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “N-no.” You don’t miss the slight stutter in his voice. Oh, this is too good. 

“Relax, old man,” you tease with a shake of your head. “I’m just fucking with you.” 

He seems to calm down a little, rolling his eyes. “Should have known,” he snorts under his breath, but you still hear it. 

“Excuse me?” You challenge him. 

“Well, you know,” he mumbles in his smooth southern accent. 

You feign annoyance, glaring at him. “Oh, so you believe everything you hear?” You ask harshly. 

Joel huffs in disbelief. “You tellin’ me you ain’t the promiscuous little princess this whole town thinks you are?” His eyes bore into yours and damn it if your stomach doesn’t flutter with butterflies with how he stares you down. 

“I know my reputation, Joel,” you say with a grin, squirming under his smoldering eyes. “People start rumors, rumors spiral out of control, sometimes it’s easier to roll with it than fight it. But I’m a virgin,” you confess and giggle at the way his eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s right,” you confirm as realization crosses his face. 

The confession takes him off guard. And, admittedly, it makes him hot. He’s heard rumors about you, everyone has. And like the rest, he just assumed those rumors were true. You had notoriety about you, and even though it wasn’t the most flattering, it was intriguing. But this? Knowing you’re really just some innocent girl everyone wants, but no one’s had… That’s… That’s hot. 

“Uh, really?” He coughs, trying to keep his interest in your sexuality concealed. Christ, you are his best friend’s daughter. You are totally and completely off limits. He shouldn’t even be having this discussion with you. 

But then you smirk at him, blink those dazzling eyes and say things that drive his mind wild. “Yeah,” you whisper, voice dripping with suggestion. “Why? You want to change that?” 

“W-what?” He stammers, feeling his heart nearly leap from his chest. 

You sigh, sitting up so your knees press into the mattress. “Isn’t it obvious?” You ask as you lean forward a bit, using your arms to frame your chest and showing off your cleavage, glistening with sweat. “I want you, Joel, I have for a while,” you finally admit. 

He shifts awkwardly, feeling his jeans get tighter the longer you look at him. He’s known you have a thing for him. You’re not exactly subtle. But this? This little admission is almost too much. Your father could arrive at any time. “Are you crazy?” He whispers. 

“Oh, come on,” you roll your eyes. “I see the way you look at me. I’m not the only one feeling…something.” 

Joel shakes his head, face turning crimson. Fuck, he’s got to get out of here. He’s got to get away from you before he says, or does, something he’ll definitely fucking regret. 

You pout, slinking back onto your mattress. “You don’t like the idea of being my first?” 

You say that and he bites back a groan, taking in a deep shaky breath. Of course, he likes the idea. He loves the idea. To know that he’d be the only man who has touched you, who has made you cum, who has heard your pretty moans of want. It’s such a hot fantasy. But he can’t. He won’t. It’s worth repeating, that you are the daughter of his best friend. And you’re so young. 

But he can’t help but wonder. 

“Why me?” He asks, hesitantly. “Why now? You’re an attractive, young girl. I know you’ve had boyfriends.” 

“No one’s been worthy,” you say with total honesty. 

This makes Joel laugh. Hard. “Wait, you’re telling me you think no one’s been worthy of sleeping with you?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you answer him. “Why?” 

“Nothing,” he chuckles, still trying to wrap his brain around this entire conversation. 

“Guys my age have proven time and time again why they don’t deserve me,” you tell him with sincerity. 

“And I do?” He asks, clearly flattered by the thought. 

“Don’t you?” You say quietly. 

Just then, you hear the back door of your house open, meaning your dad is finally home. Bummer, just when things were getting interesting. You frown, knowing this is the end of your conversation. 

Joel looks panicked like he’s trying to figure out an escape from your bedroom. It’s cute how nervous he is. But you hold your hand up, telling him to calm down. 

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” Your dad yells, voice booming through the house. 

You bring a finger to your lips, suggesting Joel be quiet and let you take the lead. He looks annoyed but does as you say, standing completely still. “I’m upstairs!” You call out, getting off your bed. You motion for Joel to follow. 

You know your dad will ask if the older man is around. So the best you can do is distract him long enough so Joel can sneak out of your room and out of your house. Should be easy. 

“Can you come here, pumpkin?” Your dad asks. 

You look at Joel and hold his gaze, smiling wickedly. “Coming, daddy!” You yell in response and see Joel’s eyes darken. You give him a wink before heading downstairs to meet your father, ready to play dumb. 

He greets you with a smile and a small hug. “Has Joel come by yet?” He questions. 

You shake your head. “Nope, haven’t seen him,” you lie. “But oh! Have you seen my flowers? They’re already blooming!” You say excitedly and drag your father out towards the backyard. 

Joel listens and waits for you two to leave before he tiptoes downstairs and heads outside. Once on the porch, he takes a few moments to collect himself before knocking on the front door. Get it together, man, he thinks. 

Your father hears the knocks from the other side of the house and heads back in to greet his friend. You follow along innocently, leaving behind your garden. Inside, you stand behind your father as he speaks to Joel. 

The other man tries to pay attention to his friend, but it’s nearly impossible when you’re idling there, licking your lips, and fanning yourself due to the heat. He can see your tank top sticking to your sweaty skin and for a second thinks you’d feel so much better if he took it off for you. 

Fuck, no. He can’t think like that. 

But, shit, it would be so fucking hot. And as you bite down on your bottom lip, he swears he’s going to explode. What he wouldn’t give to be the one biting that lip. 

“I’m going back upstairs,” you say in a bored tone, bringing him back to life. “Let me know if you need anything!” You sing out. 

Your father bids you goodbye as he ushers Joel into the kitchen. He follows your dad, but can’t stop himself from checking out your ass as you leave. You are trouble. 

Luck’s been your friend lately. After a couple more run-ins with Joel, you’re standing here in his weapons class with Violet, watching him intently. You’re not the only girl with eyes for him, and you have to admit that it annoys you. Violet finds it humorous, though. 

There are girls your age blatantly flirting with him and he doesn’t push them away. He doesn’t exactly pay attention to it, either. But it’s enough to piss you off. If there were any cute guys in this class, you’d throw yourself at them just to show Joel how it feels. But alas, it’s mostly women. 

And those women, the ones his age, you worry about them. You don’t know if, after all this, Joel sees you as some stupid kid. Maybe he doesn’t take you seriously. Maybe you’re just embarrassing yourself by flirting with him. The thought breaks your heart. Some of these women are gorgeous. You wouldn’t blame him for wanting one of them instead of you. 

But you’re not going to back down. Yes, you joined this class because your father made you. He said you could learn a lot from Joel and you needed to know the basics of weapons to keep yourself safe. However, you’ve been sticking around just so you can be closer to the man who plagues all of your thoughts. 

“Um, Joel?” You speak up, catching his attention immediately. The group of girls surrounding also turn around, disgusted by your interruption. “I need some help,” you say. 

He could ignore you and go back to teaching the class. But where’s the fun in that? Instead, he passes instructions over to Jesse and leaves the jealous girls in favor of you. Violet groans and excuses herself, not willing to participate in whatever you have planned. She’s far too shy for this. 

“What is it you need?” Joel asks, his voice deep and rough as he stands behind you. 

You decide to get a little brave and place your handgun on the workbench in front of you. Sighing, you lean back, feeling Joel tense as you press yourself against him. His hand finds your hip, instinctively holding onto you. “I’m just not sure I’m doing this right,” you frown, cocking your head to the side. 

Joel’s warm breath fans across your now exposed neck and it takes everything in his power to not just lean down and kiss your glowing skin. Instead, he squeezes your hip harder and angles his body around you to see what you’re doing. “Don’t know how to handle a gun?” He grunts, and you don’t miss the suggestive undertone in his words. 

“I told you,” you laugh innocently. “I’m a virgin, Mr. Miller.” 

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, dropping his hand from your body. He moves to stand next to you, but you already felt his hardness pressing into you. He glares down at you, shooting you a warning. “Behave,” he whispers. 

“I’m always on my best behavior,” you tell him, flipping your hair over your shoulder. It’s blatant flirtation, and anyone who looks at you can see it, but you find it hard to care. He’s so close and he smells so good and he’s so warm. God, he’s perfect. “Like remember the other day?” You ask. “In my room?” 

“Nothin’ happened in your room,” he snaps, glancing around to make sure no one heard you. 

“I know,” you tell him. “Because I was on my best behavior.” 

“Listen,” Joel interjects, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to a more suitable location without prying eyes. “You’ve gotta stop,” he says, but you can hear the hesitancy in his voice. “You’re young. You don’t know what you want.” 

Annoyed, you step into him, pressing your chest to his. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. No, he lets you invade his personal space. “I know I want you,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips along his chest. “And I think you want me, too.” 

“I can’t,” he says darkly, grabbing you by the wrist. “Do you have any idea what your dad would do to me?” He hisses, searching your eyes for any sign of understanding. Fuck, it would be so easy to just grab you and kiss you right here, pin you to the side of the barn and take you the way you want; the way he wants. But he has to be a better man. He has to. 

“But,” you pout, looking up at him. “Do you know what I could do to you?” 

Joel groans, dropping his head against yours. You close your eyes and tilt your chin up. His lips are so close to yours. If you just step on your tiptoes, you could kiss him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, brushing his knuckles across your cheek. “You wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

Stunned, you stand frozen as Joel kisses your forehead and walks away from you. You’d be offended if that situation didn’t send warmth buzzing through your stomach. He’s teasing you and, as frustrating as it is, you take it as a good sign. 

The next night, your father is on watchtower duty with one of the other town leaders. It’s not his favorite job in Jackson, but he only has to do it every so often. So it’s rare you have nights alone. He bid you goodnight before leaving, making sure you had food for the night. He still treats you like his little girl and you’re thankful for that. But it does make it harder for you sometimes. You never want to disappoint him. 

You think about Joel and wonder what he’s doing tonight. Ellie’s been spending a lot of time with her friends. Joel’s told you before that she’s rarely home. He misses her, but he’s happy she’s putting herself out there. You would bet tonight she’s probably off with her little group, meaning Joel’s most likely home alone. 

The smart thing to do would be to let it go. Just stay home, be the good girl your dad thinks you are. But your brain won’t shut up. Knowing Joel is just within reach and that you could actually be alone with him is the only thing you can focus on. You’ve got it bad. 

“Just do it,” you murmur to yourself. “If he turns you away, he turns you away. At least you tried.” Your little pep talk gives you the energy you’re looking for and you decide to leave your house, opening your door to the darkness of the night.

Before you even have the chance to step out onto your porch, you bump into something, or rather, someone. You look up at the figure towering over you, heart skipping a beat at those familiar hazel eyes. “Joel,” you breathe. “What are you doing here?”

He looks ashamed, head down low like he’s afraid to make eye contact as he speaks. “I know your dad is workin’ the tower tonight,” he mumbles. “Thought I’d come check on you.”

The fluttering in your chest increases at his words. And the longer you stare at him, the more flustered you get. You know why he’s here. He’s finally done pushing you away. “That’s very kind of you,” you say softly, biting down on your lip. 

He watches your every movement, slowly taking in every part of you from the knee-high socks to the sleep shorts to the baggy shirt that covers your beautiful body. When his gaze reaches your lips, you let out an involuntary sigh. He swallows the lump in his drying throat and steps closer to you, one foot at a time. 

Your pink lips are parted in uncertainty, glittering eyes shining up at him intrusively. Under the cloudy porch light, you look like a doll, handcrafted to perfection. And you want him. Why? More importantly, why can’t he accept that? You’re stunning and he’s being his own personal cockblock. 

A breath leaves your lips, and you open your mouth to speak, but before any words can come out, Joel’s wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. His warm lips crash against yours, aggressively kissing you, walking you back into your house. All coherent thoughts fly out the window as you kiss him back, savoring the feeling, sliding your arms across his neck, and pushing yourself up on your tippy toes. 

He pulls away for only a second to catch a breath before claiming your lips again, trailing his tongue lightly over your bottom lip. It’s such an intense feeling that shoots pleasure down to your core. And with your lips parted, you accept his tongue, finally tasting him. 

In all the kisses you’ve had with the many boys of Jackson, you’ve never felt like this. Joel’s mouth molds against yours with passion and his rough beard tickles your sensitive skin. He kisses you deeply, fiercely, like his life depends on it; like you’re a drug and he’s an addict. You’ve never felt so desired. 

Even when you see black spots form behind your eyelids at the lack of air you’re getting, you can’t pull away from him. You don’t want to. You want to die just like this, smothered by his kisses. 

But he can feel you struggling against him, and he laughs lightly, breaking the kiss so you can gasp for air. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed over, and Joel wishes he had a camera so he could capture this image forever. He waits quietly for you to regain your balance, and when you give him a confident smile, he kisses you again. 

No words are said as you jump up in his arms, feeling his hands grab your thighs to steady you. He holds you up, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Lips still attached, he carries you up the stairs to your bedroom, a place he’s been dreaming of. 

He walks over to your bed, dropping you down before quickly closing your door. He wastes no time sauntering back over to you, crawling over your panting body. His hand reaches up, cupping your face so delicately. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks and there’s a determination in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

“More than anything,” you answer without flinching. You’re confident in knowing what you want. And he finally accepts that. 

Joel nods and kisses your lips and up to your ear before whispering the hottest thing you've ever heard. “Darlin’, I’m gonna fuck you so good, it’ll ruin you for other men.” 

“Please,” you whine, eyes lidded, body writhing and hot, desperate for his touch. 

He props himself up with one hand, the other trailing down the curve of your body, stopping at the hem of your shirt. He looks at you and you nod, giving him the permission he needs. As slow as possible, he pushes the dark green fabric up, gradually revealing your gleaming skin. He shuffles down your body, settling between your legs, kissing the exposed area of your stomach. 

You let out such a pretty noise as his wet lips follow where he continues to push up your shirt. You grab the cotton in your hand, holding it just below your breasts as Joel continues his soft grazes over the expanse of your tummy. Exhaling deeply, your body twitches when you feel the brush of his beard against your hand. 

“Let it go, baby girl,” he says in a low voice. Your shaking hand drops the hem of your shirt as your mind ignites at the pet name. Bliss takes over as Joel sits up, pulling you with him so he can remove your top completely. 

A grunt leaves his lips as he looks you over, lips pressing against yours again as he pushes you back down onto the mattress. You melt into him as he takes over once more, kissing down your neck, gently biting you just enough to give you pleasure, but not too hard to leave a mark. Your hands don’t know what else to do but rest on his shoulder and the back of his neck as he claims you. 

“Joel,” you whisper, and the way you say his name, full of lust and need, makes his gut clench. How could he have resisted you for so long? It doesn’t matter now. He has you beneath him and he intends on making you feel amazing. 

His rough hands snake up your body as he kisses his way down your chest, tasting your salty skin, licking up the sweat line that’s formed between your pretty tits. Soft gasps pour out of you and it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. He can only imagine how gorgeous you’ll sound when he’s actually fucking you. 

“So pretty,” Joel murmurs, pressing wet, opened mouth kisses to your breast while his hand cups the other. “Fuckin’ stunning,” he corrects himself. 

Your body arches from the bed, leaning into his every touch. Emotions you have never experienced before present themselves in colors behind your eyelids, reds, and purples of passion, warm oranges, and golds the way Joel makes you feel safe. And sounds you’ve never made come out loudly when his hot mouth encloses around your nipple, sucking tenderly while his calloused fingers pinch the other. 

That fervor builds inside of you and excitement takes over. Joel feels you squirm beneath him and smiles at how receptive you are. And he’s only just started. 

He pulls his mouth away and looks up at you. “Feel good?” He teases to which you nod. “Good.” He licks his lips and drops his gaze down to your shorts. He wants to take his time with you, make you feel good, and give you the experience you deserve. But the desire pulsing through his veins is eager. “Can I take these off?” He asks, snapping the band of your shorts. 

“If you take your shirt off,” you smile, greedily grabbing for his chest. 

“I guess that’s only fair,” he chuckles, sitting up slightly to pull the shirt over his head. He tosses it to the floor and leans back over you, your chest flush against his. He kisses your lips sweetly as he traces circles through the fabric of your shorts. “Now can I?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, lifting your hips so he can pull your bottoms off. He sits back on his heels, lifting your legs, and kissing your skin as he rolls down your socks, too. His hands soothe over the goosebumps that form on your thighs before settling his body between them. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, sliding those hands up to your panties. “We can stop--” 

“Please, don’t,” you groan, frustrated and flustered. 

Joel laughs and kisses your inner thigh. You tense for a second and then relax, looking down at him. He does it again, this time using his teeth to nip at the sensitive spot he’s discovered. He feels comfortable enough sucking a bruise into your flesh here. No one else will see. 

Your hands grip the bed sheets next to you, mind racing, swirling with a million different thoughts, unable to focus on just one. No one’s ever been this close to you. And no one has ever made you feel so weak yet so strong. 

“I want to taste you, darlin’,” Joel mumbles into your skin. For a second, you forget how to speak. You never thought you’d hear those words come from Joel. But they sound so good and he sounds desperate, even. “Will you let me, baby girl? Will you let me taste your pretty pussy?” 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, nodding your head furiously. “Yes, Joel,” you groan. “Please.” 

“I’ve been dreaming of this moment, princess,” he tells you with a slight blush. His fingers dip into the band of your panties, slowly pulling them down. “Been dreaming of my head between your thighs, my tongue inside you. I used to be jealous of those guys you were with. How silly of me.” 

His little confession sends your brain into another dimension. You can’t believe he just said that. Oh, but you were right. He does have feelings for you.

And he’s proving it to you by kissing up your thighs, taking his time to taste and explore every part of you. You whimper at every touch, eager for him to take you, make you his. But he’s moving so slow, you can barely stand it. 

“Baby,” he coos, holding your thighs in place to stop you from thrashing around. “Relax,” he grins. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.” 

“I need it,” you whine, trying to buck your hips up. “Please, Joel. I’ve waited s-so long.” 

“And you can wait a little longer,” he teases, pushing himself up slightly. He brings two fingers to your lips, pressing into the soft flesh. “Open,” he orders. “Suck on my fingers.” 

You groan and part your lips as Joel demands, sucking the two digits into your mouth. His eyes darken as your tongue rolls over them, getting them nice and wet with your saliva. You’re an enthusiastic one, trying to take them deeper. That cute little mouth of yours begins to drool around his hand. 

“Good girl,” he praises as you moan around him. The sounds you make are so adorable and the light suction of your lips feels so sweet. He can admit now that he’s imagined what those lips would feel like wrapped around his cock. Given the way you’re trying to deepthroat his fingers, he knows you’ll be a greedy little cockslut. But that’s for another time. Right now, it’s all about you. “You’re doing so well,” he hums. 

He pulls his fingers from your lips and you watch him as he slides them between your legs. You tense up, nerves taking over until Joel kisses you. He’s gentle, pressing a finger to your entrance once your rigid body unwinds. 

“Oh!” You gasp as your body curves against the mattress, absorbing the feeling of Joel’s finger. You’ve touched yourself before, but nothing can compare to the caress of another person. And for it to be Joel is on a whole new level. Yes, you’ve pursued him, but you never imagined he’d be here, in your room, slipping his finger in and out of your cunt. 

“Sound so sexy, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his finger through your slit, gathering your slick before pushing it back into you. He’s mesmerized by you, by the way your legs spread for him, overwhelmed with the notion that he’s your first. He’s the only man who’s touched you like this. 

It’s sick, a little bit, the fact that he enjoys corrupting you. He likes the way your pretty little cunt squeezes around his finger. He likes that when he adds a second one, a heavy moan rips from your throat, a sound he’s sure no one else has heard before. He likes watching as his two fingers pump in and out of your virgin pussy demanding your juices leak out of you. 

He loves the way you writhe beneath him, your hands pushing up against your pillows for something to hold on to while he finger fucks you quickly. He loves the way your perfect tits bounce from the force of his motions, knowing that your messy behavior is because he’s making you feel things no man has. 

“J-Joel,” you stutter, grinding your hips down against his hand. “I-I need it,” you mewl. “Fuck, I need…” 

“Tell me,” he growls, rotating his wrist until his fingers find that tender spot inside of you. The little moan you let out at his discovery is so fucking hot that he doesn’t hesitate to brush over that bundle of nerves over and over. “Tell me what you need, baby girl. And I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you fuckin’ want.” 

“Oh, my god,” you choke, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to enhance every sensation rippling through your body. “I want y-you to…” You trail off as your words fail you. Your eyes roll back as Joel curls his fingers inside your wet cunt. “F-fuck,” you whimper. 

He almost feels bad for teasing you, but watching your body fall apart beneath him is so satisfying. “Aw, poor girl,” he shakes his head. “You want me to lick your pussy, is that it? Huh? You want my tongue buried inside you?” 

You nod, biting your lip so hard you taste metallic on your tongue. “Yes, yes,” you groan. 

He doesn’t say anything, situating himself between your legs until you can feel his hot breath clash against your core. He doesn’t spare another second, bringing your legs over his shoulders and flicking his tongue through your sopping folds. You can’t contain the sounds you make at the feeling of his intrusion. 

You can barely look down at him, too aroused that Joel Miller, a known leader in Jackson, a friend of your father, a respected citizen, is eating you out with fervor. His wet tongue feels so heavenly as it laps up your juices you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs around his head. 

But you’ve never been in this position before. You don’t know how to act as he plunges his tongue inside of you, licking at your dripping core with desperation. The sounds he makes as he buries his face into your cunt are feral and you can’t stop yourself from grinding into him. 

He accepts it, moaning as your taste coats his tongue. He wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, and you yelp, shooting your hands to his hair. You grab onto his graying strands, tugging hard as you lose yourself in the feeling. You can tell just how wet you are from the slurping sounds Joel makes mouthing your pussy. 

You sigh in ecstasy as his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks lightly, moaning into you and sending vibrations up your spine. It’s such an unfamiliar pleasure, but you feel so lucky that Joel’s treating you right. You knew waiting for him would be worth it. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “Feels so good. Don’t stop,” you breathe, and as soon as you say it, he stops. 

You whine, propping yourself up on your elbows as Joel tears his face away from you. His beard is damp with your slick and his smile is lazy, he looks drugged up, almost. It’s kind of hot he got so turned on just by eating you out. 

“Why’d you stop?” You frown and it’s so adorable, Joel can’t resist crawling back up to your lips. Your breath hitches as he leans in to kiss you, eyes closing when your lips meet. You taste yourself on his lips, and it’s so fucking seductive that you bring your hand to his neck to deepen the kiss. 

“You taste good, don’t you?” He smirks, licking his lips. “Mm, I wish we had more time,” he admits. “I’d love to have you ride my face. Suffocate me with these gorgeous thighs. Cum all over my tongue.” 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, running your hands over his chest. “Don’t tease me,” you huff. 

“Next time,” he grins and slides off the bed gracefully. You watch as he undoes his jeans, sliding them down his legs with his briefs following them. 

Your eyes widen at his naked body, impressed at how well he’s kept in shape. Even more, impressed by his size. You lick your lips absentmindedly as a thought pops into your head. But it’s like Joel can read your mind because before you say anything, he’s back on top of you. 

“We can save that for next time, too,” he winks. 

“You want there to be a next time?” You ask him, suddenly feeling shy. 

“Of course,” he says before spitting into his hand and wrapping it around his dick. “You said it already. You know how I feel about you.” 

“You like me,” you tease, spreading your legs and welcoming him between them. “So naughty of you, Mr. Miller.” 

“Says the girl about to get fucked by her father’s friend,” he points out and your face heats up. “Are you ready for me, darlin’?” He asks for the last time. 

You nod desperately. “Fuck me, please.” 

“God, that’s hot,” he groans and eases himself into you. You let out a little whimper, and Joel softly kisses your cheek. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good. Don’t worry.” 

“Uh huh,” you whisper, biting your lip to hold back any sounds. He rubs comforting circles into your hips as he slowly pushes half of his cock in and out of you. You feel the pressure, appreciative that he’s going at a pace comfortable for you. You want more, but you’re almost afraid to ask. You don’t want to seem overly excited. 

But Joel can hardly focus on anything else but the way your walls flutter around him. You’re so wet, so tight, so hot. Your pussy grips him so deliciously he nearly cums. He knew you’d feel fantastic, but he still wasn’t prepared for just how perfectly you fit him. 

“Can I move?” He whispers, hoisting your leg up slightly so he can angle himself better. You nod, muttering out a quiet yeah. And he takes it slow, pushing the rest of the way into you. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he mumbles as you surround him. 

“Joel,” you gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Fuck, I--” Words blur together in your head, leaving you speechless and unable to think one single coherent thought. All you can feel is Joel inside of you, stretching you with his thick cock, filling you up in all the ways you desire. “Please, oh god,” you cry out with no idea what you’re pleading for. 

“So tight, baby girl,” he moans, picking up the speed of his hips. “God damn, you feel so good. Can’t believe I tried to let you go.” He shakes his head, mentally calling himself an idiot. He could have missed out on this. Missed out the cute faces you make as he pumps into you, the pretty sounds that tumble past your lips. He could have missed out on the feeling of your slutty little cunt squeezing him so tight that he wants to fuck you forever. 

“Ungh,” you let out the most pathetic whine, pushing your ass into him, taking him deeper. He feels incredible, so long and hard and hitting that spot that makes your insides burn with need. “Faster,” you pant, digging your nails into his shoulder. “Go faster, ugh, fuck me.” 

“Fuck,” Joel grunts, thrusting into you nice and fast, hips hitting yours so hard you can hear the erotic sounds of his skin slapping against yours fill your room. “So fuckin’ hot,” he groans, pulling you against him. “And so needy. This is what you wanted, isn’t it baby? To have a man fuck you senseless, take your virgin pussy all for himself.” He grins a wicked grin and moves his hand to your chest. “Mm, all behind daddy’s back.” 

You roll your eyes at the comment and from the pleasure of Joel’s dick splitting you in half. That’s such a touchy subject, but you can’t lie, the fact that it’s practically forbidden makes it so damn alluring. You get off on secrets, obviously. 

“Don’t,” you pout, wiggling your hips as a way of asking for more. Joel’s happy to oblige, feeling his release quickly approach. He holds you down by your hips, driving himself into you, claiming you all for himself. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” He teases as you scrunch up your nose. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. And you’re takin’ me so well. Doin’ so good for daddy,” he chuckles. 

“Fuck, shut up,” you groan, slapping his chest. “Don’t say that!” 

“Say what?” He whispers, rolling his hips into yours. “Daddy?” 

“Joel, I swear,” you breathe out in frustration. 

“I think it’s kinda hot,” he says. “You’re mine now, you know that, right? My baby, my little fuck doll. It’s only fitting that I be your daddy.” 

“I, fuck,” you whimper, hating how hot it sounds when he says that. Oh, this is so wrong. 

“Come on, princess,” he moans low and dirty. “I know you wanna say it.” 

You shake your head, feeling weak as your orgasm nears. You’re gonna cum. You’re gonna cum so hard all over Joel’s cock you can’t fucking believe it. 

“Please?” He purrs, moving his hand down your body until his fingers find your swollen clit. “I’ll make you cum nice and hard if you say it. I know you want to, baby. It’s okay.” 

His fingers slowly roll over your clit and that coupled with Joel’s cock stretching you and his heavy breathing in your ear makes you want to give in to his every desire. Your tummy tightens as that familiar feeling intensifies. Fuck, fuck. “Oh, god, daddy,” you moan in encouragement. 

“Oof,” Joel smirks, rubbing your clit faster. “That’s my good girl. So fuckin’ sexy,” he tells you. “Now, say it louder.” 

“Daddy, please!” You cry and that’s all it takes for you to cum, fucked happy for the first time by the man you really like. Joel works you through your climax, licking his lips as he feels you squirt all over his cock. Your warm juices cover him, and shit, it’s so sexy to watch you fall apart beneath him. And a sense of pride washes over him knowing he’s the first man to make you cum. 

That thought is what tips him over the edge. He looks into your hazy eyes and lets go, releasing his load, filling your pussy with his hot cum. He shivers as he shoots into you, clenching his jaw to hold down his sounds. He swears he’s never cum that hard in his life. 

For a moment, he just stares at you in your post-orgasm glow. Sweat makes your hair stick to your face, you wear such a weak smile, and your eyes are so droopy. You’re beautiful. You’re satiated. He made that happen. 

“Wow,” he breathes and holds himself steady as he pulls out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. “That was…wow.” 

“No regrets?” You ask with worry. 

“None,” he answers quickly. “You?” 

“Nope,” You giggle. 

You happily roll over on top of Joel, dancing your fingers over his beard. He smiles and it’s so beautiful it makes you all warm inside. You lean in to kiss him, soft and slow this time. For now, you’re content. You never want him to leave. 

Unfortunately, your luck can’t last forever. In your state of happiness, you don’t think that your father might be home soon. So when you suddenly hear his voice calling for you, your stomach sinks and you look at Joel in panic. 

“Pumpkin, I’m home!” Your father shouts, announcing his return. 

Joel hops out of your bed, tripping over the messed-up sheets to hurry and put his clothes on. You look around your room for something to slip into, grabbing your panties from the floor and then tearing through your blankets to find your nightshirt. 

Just as you pull it over your head, your bedroom door opens and the smile falls from your father’s face. He stares in horror as Joel buttons his jeans, standing shirtless next to your bed that’s obviously been used. Red flashes before him as he looks at you, your messy hair and lack of pants. It all sinks in. And he loses control. 

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles and lunges at Joel, grabbing the other man by the throat and knocking him to his knees. “I'll fucking kill you!” Your father screams, choking Joel with such force you can hear him gagging. 

“Daddy, stop it!” You yell as tears well in your eyes. “Please!” 

“You shut up!” Your father hisses, glaring daggers at you. God, what have you done? How could you do this to him? How could you do this to yourself? He’s so disappointed in you. 

“Don’t hurt him,” you whimper, running over to try and pry your father’s hands off of Joel’s neck. He’s far too strong, you fear he might actually kill Joel right here in your room. “Stop, please!” You cry, pulling at his arm. 

“Fucking pervert,” your dad spits and you watch with horror as Joel’s eyes flutter closed all while your father shouts. “You’re going to fucking pay for this.” 

Masterlist

Joel Miller Taglist: @swtaura - @chxpsi - @extraneous-trip - @cerebellam - @tiredbeebo - @kirsteng42 - @trickstersp8 - @detectivebarba

[peridot-tears]

Mind sharing some Ezio, Ziio, Shay and Edward Hcs?

Sofia and Claudia got along like sisters (idk I think this might actually be canon).

Ezio encouraged Flavia to be spirited and curious, and sees himself in her and the way she takes care of Marcello. If Ezio had lived to see her to adulthood, he would have been protective but let her choose her own husband.

Ezio wanted to keep his Assassin activities a secret from his children. After he died, Claudia took them in and trained them herself the way their Uncle Mario did for them.

Ziio and Oiá:ner's interactions became stilted after the birth of Ratohnhaké:ton. There was no doubt that the love was there, but Oiá:ner could not quite look at her the same again, and she had to busy herself with finding someone else to groom as successor. They were finally warming up to each other again just a year or so before Ziio died.

Oiá:ner put full trust into Ratohnhaké:ton and his decision-making going forward because she didn't want to drive a wedge between herself and her grandson the way she did with Ziio. And it was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

Modern-day Ziio would have been a leader in the stand-offs against the Canadian government and localities like the Kanehsatà:ke Resistance, which her voice actor Tiio Horn was actually in. My headcanon Ziio has a lot of Tiio Horn's traits, mostly because Tiio Horn's sass that I see in her social media comes through a lot in her voice acting for Ziio.

Ratohnhaké:ton's a BEAST at lacrosse. Man moves like WATER.

Shay died peacefully in a manner similar to Ezio's -- in a garden, watching his family.

Shay most definitely was the black sheep amongst the Templars -- not just because a traitor gets no trust from any side, but because he's Irish and many other Templars were Englishmen who were racist against him. Adéwalé called him Haytham's hunting dog, but the Templars thought the same of him.

Because of this, Shay was that high-achieving Templar the others resented, because they hated the idea of being outdone by someone they felt was lesser. They kept their distance from each other, and his friends in the Order were kept in a tight circle -- Jack Weeks, Gist, and Haytham.

That's also why Cudgel was so fiercely proud of his grandfather later on too -- despite the racism, he was more Templar than any of them.

Also, Lil Cudge seems to me like that kind of guy who in modern day would insist that the Irish were slaves. He seems to me like someone who's very loyal, but but blindly so, and someone who doesn't question tradition.

Edward wanted to raise Haytham as English as possible, but he'd occasionally slip up and curse in Welsh at times. Haytham would grow up with only vague memories of the Welsh part of his heritage.

Edward was a rambunctious lil youngster who didn't need any dogs to herd the sheep. The wolves were scared of HIM lol.

Edward's relationship with Jenny haunts my dreams. What happened in the years between her and Haytham's birth. The people need to know.

I wrote a whole other word vomit post expressing my guess that he didn't want her to get involved in the Assassin world because he wanted to protect his last memory of Caroline. He believed in being honest with your child, so she knew everything about his activities. But given that Caroline had already been disowned because of him and even now that he was a new money gentleman, he was a social pariah because of his pirate past, he wanted Jenny to live a noblewoman's life -- marry a man of good social standing and be a good wife. And although she protested, he always thought he knew what was best for her.

If Jenny knew about her brother's child and ever met him, she honestly would've adored him. Such a polite, well-loved young man. She would've been relieved that he was raised right by his mother's side, away from the Kenway drama. Thank God all he had in common with her side of the family was blood, but if she could have chosen to be blood with any remaining relative of hers, it would have been him.

[katelynnwrites]

pairing: Ona Batlle x f!Reader

warnings: christmas themed fluff?

word count: 1534

summary: the first of your hopefully many christmases with ona, based off the song, Lover by taylor swift

a/n: happy christmas eve :)

Lover

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

‘Ona? Are you home love?’

Your girlfriend normally appeared as soon as you entered, walking over to greet you when she hears the key turning in the lock.

Frowning slightly at the change, you put your bag down, checking your phone as you do so. You were sure Ona had texted you that she was home…

As you entered the living room, you were met with a rather comical sight that explained the lack of response you got.

Ona had somehow managed to get herself tangled in the Christmas lights.

Your girlfriend’s eyes widen rather comically as she spots you and you laugh, unable to resist taking a photo of the Catalan.

‘Mi amor…’ She whines and you grin, snapping a few more photos.

‘Smile Oni.’ You tease and your girlfriend rolls her eyes before sticking her tongue out and smiling.

Once you put your phone down, she gives you a pleading look and you giggle, going over to help her untangle herself.

With the both of you working on the lights, she was free soon enough. Free enough to slip her hands around your waist and pull you in for a breathtaking kiss.

And this is our place, we make the rules

Ona stuck a sprig of mistletoe up above the door to your shared bedroom and she eagerly kissed you each and every time you found yourself under it, saying something about how she wanted to bring good luck into the new year despite the fact that you had explained that just once ought to do it.

Honestly, you didn’t mind that she hadn’t listened to you because who could fault you for wanting extra kisses from the love of your life.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear

It was your idea to go ice skating. You thought that it would be a cute date idea to go to the local rink set up for Christmas and stumble around together.

Had you known Ona had figure skated competitively as a child, you might have reconsidered.

Your girlfriend had effortlessly glided out onto the ice, laughing as you cautiously stepped onto the slippery surface, holding on tightly to the railing.

She did a warm up round around the rink and then a series of spins before she skated back up to you with a grin.

‘What do you think mi amor? Are you impressed?’

Shaking your head at your girl’s antics, you’d simply asked her to hold your hand tight.

Ona smiles in response, kissing the back of your gloved hand with mock chivalry before saying, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.’

And she kept her word.

If you snuck in a few kisses every now and then as thanks, well Ona would blame her blush on the cold.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

You lean against the railing surrounding the ice skating rink with a cup of hot chocolate in your hand.

Now that you were tired of skating, you were more than happy to let your girlfriend spend a little more time on the ice while you let your drink warm you up.

Ona had let you hold onto her as she gave you bits of advice on how to skate as you struggled to keep up with her earlier. The defender had admitted that before football, much of her time had been spent figure skating.

It seemed that the lack of practice had barely impacted her abilities because she had easily skated backwards, keeping her balance perfectly even as she caught you to stop you from falling, the few times that you had slipped.

As your girlfriend continued skating, you happened to catch her eye as she looked up, making her send you a little smile.

A smile that grows wider as she picks up her speed to execute a perfect jump. She sticks the landing and skates her way up to you with a giggle.

It is the way she ignores the awed stares and claps of the other people on the rink that causes your heart to fill with love for her. Her brother was right when he said that Ona only had eyes for you.

The Catalan is in front of you a second later, her bright voice making you grin, ‘Did you like that? Because I did it just to show off for you.’

‘I did like that. In fact I loved it. Almost as much as I love you.’

Your girlfriend laughs, reaching out to gently take your face into her hands so that she can kiss you.

When she pulls back, you teasingly bump your nose off hers and say, ‘Not as much as I love kissing you though.’

‘Flirt.’ Ona snorts before she kisses your cheek to let you know she’s joking.

The smile that your girlfriend puts on your face never leaves, especially once she takes a sip from your drink and ends up with some hot chocolate foam around her lips.

Ona’s brown eyes are practically sparkling and it hits you, just how beautiful she is.

Especially once it starts to snow and snowflakes get caught in her hair.

You don’t know you’ve been caught staring until your girlfriend looks up from your drink and nudges you.

‘What are you doing?’

It’s with complete honesty that you softly answer, ‘Admiring you.’

‘Me?’ A crease appears between her brows as she looks at you in confusion.

‘Yeah, you’re beautiful.’

‘Oh.’

A bright red blush spreads across Ona’s cheeks as she looks back down at your almost empty cup of hot chocolate in an attempt to hide it.

It’s in this moment that another realisation dawns on you, she’s the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Can I go where you go?

Ona’s looking forward to leaving Manchester. She’s looking forward to leaving the snow behind even more.

Barcelona was cold in the winter but Manchester was far colder.

Besides, she was never going to say no to spending Christmas at home with her family, especially when you were going with her.

This is the first time you were meeting Ona’s parents in person and while you were anxious, Ona’s excitement is contagious.

Your girlfriend is practically bouncing as she waits for you to pack the last of your clothes.

It’s adorable how she attempts to contain her excitement by sitting down cross legged on the bed, trying her best to remain as still as she can beside you.

There are so many places, so many things she wants to show you and she simply can’t wait.

She fidgets a bit more, making you laugh.

‘Ona babe, relax a little.’ You tease and she pouts.

‘But I’m just so happy that you want to come home for Christmas with me.’

‘Love, I’ll always want to go where you go. It doesn’t matter whether it’s your home for Christmas or to another club. I am at my happiest when I’m with you.’

Ona visibly tries and fails to fight back her tears at your honest words.

She can’t find the words to convey just how much they mean to her so she settles for showing you instead, pulling you down onto the bed and straddling your waist.

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

Ona found being back home, in her childhood bedroom with you, a surreal experience. She had grown up in this room, the posters she’d stuck up of Dani Alves and the plastic trophies she’d won with her school displayed within its four walls.

To have you looking at them, to have you sitting on her twin bed and holding her childhood stuffed toys with a cheeky grin, she feels her heart swell with love for you.

‘What’s her name?’ You ask, holding up a small well worn and clearly much loved cheetah plushie.

‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

You nod but Ona shakes her head and insists, ‘You have to pinky swear.’

Giggling, you oblige her and your girlfriend blushes slightly as she mumbles, ‘Hermosa.’

‘Beautiful?’ You grin at her and the Spaniard’s blush intensifies.

‘I was young okay!’

Your girlfriend sits herself in your lap, hiding her face in your neck.

Pressing a kiss onto her hair, you play with it and whisper, ‘Her name suits her mi amor.’

You can feel Ona smile against your neck and after shifting into a more comfortable position, that’s how you both fall asleep. Wrapped in each other’s arms and squeezed into Ona’s childhood bed.

And ah, take me out, and take me home

Your girlfriend holds your hand, unlocking the door of your shared apartment with her free hand.

‘Welcome back home amor.’ Ona tugs you through the doorway, kissing you once you cross the threshold.

‘Welcome back home Ona.’ You breathe and the Spaniard helps you with the suitcases before rushing over to turn on the Christmas lights.

‘Ona?’

Your girlfriend simply cups your face in her hands, kissing you passionately in the apartment you were building a life together in. In the apartment lit up by Christmas lights.

You're my, my, my, my

Lover

Spanish Translation:

mi amor - my love

hermosa - beautiful

[thrawns-backrest]

I've never heard anyone talk about this theory on tumblr, but I was curious to ask you. What do you think about Ronan becoming a Grysks spy? I saw such an idea in one fanfic, but there they made Ronan just an ambitious and stupid villain. But I thought about and decided that given its canonical nature, such a development of events also seems to be probable to some extent. It seemed to me so, because look: Ronan in Ascendancy is even more vulnerable than Eli, who managed to build good relations with at least Vah'nya and Ar'alani, he obviously needs a lot of time to somehow get along with at least a brother-in-misfortune, and already especially with someone else. In essence, he is alone, and his character also repels the Chiss from him, which leads to their distrust and unwillingness to explain anything to him. A person who communicates little with anyone and understands little is easy to take advantage of, besides, attachment to some things or people is something that the Grysk are only too good at pressuring, with intimidation or cunning. And Ronan is attachmented to Krennic, to the Empire, to the Death Star, so in theory they have something to hit. In addition, if he is faithful to someone, then he is faithful, as we see, almost to the end. And if someone else could become for him a figure like Krennic to whom he "swears" - this person could push him into many things.

If anything, I'm not saying that this is a full-fledged theory and it will be so in the canon. These are just my thoughts on one of hundreds of possible scenarios. I was wondering how likely you think this is?

Oooh... honestly, as much as I love Ronan, I think that's very likely. I think it's even likelier when you consider Thrawn's suggestion to Ar'alani about feeding Ronan the right kind of information because they know he's a potential traitor.

Looking at the book, it's hard to tell if they mean that in the sense of feeding the Empire information through him or using him to misled the Grysks but both scenarios are kind of sad because neither assumes an eventual assimilation into the Ascendancy (which I'm trying to fix in my fic lol).

But yes, as you said Ronan is a very likely target for the Grysks. Ar'alani herself points it out and if something isn't done to prevent it, Ronan could easily be converted into a Grysk agent. The moment he realizes Thrawn didn't send him on some secret mission to find Chiss jedi, he'll grow even more distrustful of him. And if his experience in the Ascendancy is as negative as we assume it'll be, there's plenty of dislike there for the Grysks to feed and exploit.

In a way, characters with a lot of zeal and extreme views always have that problem. They're just... unstable. Kind of like Anakin in the prequels, because they feel so strongly about something they're open to manipulation and their loyalties can be exploited with the right kind of nudging.

That said, making Ronan's motivation ambition and depriving him of his intellect is just... dumb. Ronan genuinely believes he's on the side of the greater good, that the Empire is doing good, etc. I can see the Grysks convincing him that the Chiss are the bad guys in the grand scheme of things, maybe that they're planning to betray or attack the Empire and use his loyalty and inflated self-righteousness to pit him against them.

The thing about Ronan, I think, is that he has an eye for detail and is good at noticing things and reading people (e.g. realizing that Vah'nya is force sensitive) but he's not as good at using that information to come to the right conclusions. Sometimes he does and that's when his skills shine but sometimes his takes are just so far off it's funny.

Whether it's because he tends to overthink or because his biases skew his thinking, it's still a flaw and one that could be exploited.

My only hope for Ronan resisting the Grysks' manipulation is that he's already seen what they're capable of. There's this moment in the book where he gets a very strong reaction to seeing the bodies they've left behind ("Ronan nodded silently from his seat at the conference room table, trying very hard not to be sick. [...] He tried to remind himself that these men had been thieves who’d stolen from Stardust and the Empire, and that they deserved punishment. The rationalization didn’t help.")

At the end of the day, Ronan isn't cruel and doesn't have the stomach for cruelty. And that could be the only thing stopping him from trusting the Grysks who don't have a problem openly showing their ruthlessness. But, of course, if he's already in a bad place and vulnerable to manipulation, that might not be enough to save him.

[fishsticksloser]

a little for me! Future leo x Teen!reader(14-16)

gen: Platonic ofc, Found family and fluff

Idea: you know those peepaw multiverse where future leo got throw back to the past? yeah lets change that where instead of the turtles finding him, a teen reader found him in their yard, pass out and the reader just standing there wide eyes cuz theres a big turtle in their yard, now i know what your wondering wheres the reader's family? one word ✨Vacation~✨ anddd thats where the reader begin dragging him to the house to tend his wounds.

(you can add more plot, I really just want father figure peepaw ~^~)

Welcome Home

Future!Leo + gn!reader

Warnings: angst, mention of blood and injuries, mentions of death, platonic fluff, swearing, found family if you squint

A/N: I honestly haven't read many F!Leo fics, if you could please recommend me some. :) I don't know if this feels rushed or not...

Previous  |  Next

Going back in time probably wasn't Leo's best idea, at first anyways. He wanted to see his family again. He knew it would hurt, but he wanted to know that Casey succeeded, to know that his family was still alive, still thriving, that Raph had beaten the pizza box record.

What he didn't expect was to end up in someone's backyard. A teenager came out of the house. Worrying and fussing, not caring that he was 6ft turtle man, that he had a prosthetic arm, or that it looks like he'd been through hell and back. No. All this kid cared about was if he was hurt.

"Who are you?" Leo hisses as you help him stand. You introduce yourself, in a way you reminded him of his family. You helped him inside and set him on your couch. "Where's your family?"

"Family?" You ask, going to the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit.

"Parents, siblings?" He asks, holding his side, sitting up a little better.

"Vacation." You said it so nonchalantly, like it was something you answered every day.

"And they left you here? Alone?" Leo presses. You begin to clean his wounds.

"Is there something wrong with that?" You dab some of the excess away.

"Did they make sure you had food? Water? Heating?" He grunts as you apply pressure to one of the wounds that had reopened.

"How did you end up in my backyard?"

"Don't change the subject."

"The answer isn't important."

"Yes it is. You're... What 15?" Leo groans, leaning forward so you can wrap up his plastron. "I have 2 younger brothers. I'd never leave them like this."

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"Your brothers. Where are they?"

"Somewhere in the city. I was going to find them."

"Really?" He plopped back down against the soft cushion. You gave him a disapproving look. "Like this?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Uh huh..." You got up, taking the dirty things and threw them away. "I could call them... If you have their numbers. But then again... you are a turtle man."

"You think I don't have a cell phone because I'm a turtle?"

"No offense, but normal people would be terrified if a giant turtle man came in and asked about phone plans."

"I'll give you that..." Leo sighs, feeling comfortable around this odd teenager. "You said normal people... Are you not normal?"

"Normal is... in the eye of the beholder." You shrug.

"Are you a yo'kai?"

"A what?"

"A yo'kai. They're... Nevermind."

Leo dreamt of his time in the resistance. Of Mikey, specifically when he died, an orange bandana now gracing his katana.

You got him something to eat and drink, making sure he was comfortable and his wounds stayed closed. Soon you left the room and Leo drifted off to sleep.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

"It'll take everything I have."

He thought about Raph, dying in his arms.

"This isn't your fault."

Raph's last words. He had tried so hard to push them down. Leo felt guilty for the Kraang invasion.

He dreamt about Donnie passing in the medbay.

"The world wasn't meant to be on some 16 year old's shoulders."

How could Donatello, of all people, forgive him? Tell him it's not his fault, tell him that it was okay.

Now he was here, in a time period where they're still alive, 6 years after the Kraang. He wanted to see them one last time. Just once Leo wanted to look upon the face of his brothers, his father, his sister. He wanted to hold them one last time.

Greif. Suffering. Wanting to go back and replace them. They deserved better, yet, he was the one to survive. Why?

Only to wake to a 15 year old, watching him.

"You talk a lot in your sleep." You say. "Who are they? The people you were talking about?"

"My brothers." Leo pants, the dream still fresh.

"They... died, didn't they..." You spoke softer, like you were afraid of upsetting him.

"Yes..." He breathed.

"May I ask... Why are you looking for them?"

"I'm from a different time, the me in this time is 22."

"Yeah right."

"Remember that freak accident 6 years ago? Aliens?"

"Yeah..."

"In my time period we didn't stop them, they took over the world. My... My brothers died fighting them."

"And you came back in time, to a different time period, because you miss them?"

"I am nothing without them."

"Why didn't you say so sooner? Let's go find them!"

You got him a big cloak to cover his 'turtleness' as you called it. You followed him through allies until you got to a sewer hole. He pulled it up, with a little help from you and dropped down.

"No offense, but this doesn't seem very homey to me." You jest.

"Let's hope that even in my advanced age, Donnie's system will still recognize me." Leo nudges you. "You on the other hand will probably be arrested."

"Tell them I'm a friend!"

You 2 continue down the tunnel, Leo pushed the hood off as you approached a door. He pushed it open and alarm bells started ringing.

"Fuck." Leo huffed. "Stay behind me. Donnie has a tendency to attack and ask question later."

Luckily Donnie wasn't the one who came to the door. It was Raph.

"Leo?" Raph lowered his Sai and reached out to him.

"Alright, who tripped the alarm!?" Leo could hear Donnie storming to the entrance. "Leo if you tripped the fucking alarm again-"

"Donnie... Raph..." Leo finally said, tears coming to his eyes. They looked so much better, healthier than the ones he grew up with. He wanted to hug them.

"Tello? Raph? What's..." Mikey walked up behind them. Donnie dropped his bo, shaking his head.

Finally tears fell. Leo fell to his knees, revealing you. It didn't seem to matter though as the other 3 turtles' eyes were still on the old man before you. Mikey rushed forward, pulling Leo into a hug.

"I'm so sorry." Leo hiccupped. "For everything."

Raph knelt down and pulled the 2 into a hug, his head on top of Leo's. Leo continued to apologize, for everything.

"It wasn't your fault." Raphael said. Donnie finally joined to mutants on the floor.

"The world was never supposed to be on one person's shoulders, especially not some kid's."

The words spoken on their death beds now had a new meaning. A weight lifted of Leo's shoulders, he squeezed his brothers, trying to engrain this moment into his brain.

"Who the hell is this kid?" All of you froze, looking up to see a young version of the old man you patch up. "Oh. I ruined a moment, didn't I?"

[zeldasgard]

What kind of food habits does Vaati have?

First and foremost I have always headcanoned him as a vegetarian because of his Minish origins. Honestly I was so happy to see later that many others seemed to share that headcanon with me.

I think his favourite food would be fruits like berries, but obviously in his human form berries only diet and other things the Minish eat (like grains, nuts) is not very sustainable anymore so as a human he eats other fruits and more oats (can't decide if those were available to Minishs since agriculture of these plants would be more of a human thing, but one can imagine Minishs living close to humans would take some small quantities and leave rupees and kinstones in exchange).

He very much has a sweet tooth. But mainly for fruits so overall healthy stuff.

Also I imagine he would sip on grape juice and make it pass as wine. I don't picture him enjoying alcohol or any other consciousness altering substances because of his need for control. Although I did play a few times with the idea that he would either be oddly resistant to alcohol, similar to Tolkien's elves or have no resistance at all and be drunk after one glass of actual wine, no in between.

The result is still that he doesn't drink out of fear of loss of control over himself and looks tough with his grape juice while other people think that he can drink THAT much.