#there’s more too it but I’m not going to go into the details

[chelseeebe]

bump n’ grind

a lil continuation to gimme a hand wherein our lovely reader helps eddie out after an embarrassing mistake.

18+ mdni. again, mostly just smut. maybe some angst towards the end i guessss. eddie munson x female reader.

eddie’s on cloud nine.

his head floating well above the pretty pink room he was currently in.

not entirely sure how he ended up here but also not at all angry about it. a night of rum and beer had lead him to this.

sarah.. savanna.. something, sits atop of his lap, bouncing off of his thighs like a jacked up rabbit.

he’s clawing at her back, trying and failing, to keep a steady grip on her wild body. appreciating the soft squeaks that left her mouth with every bounce.

and before he can really think about it enough to stop his mouth, he says it. wanting to dig his own grave the second his lips spread.

a long, drawn out iteration of your name.

she stops, immediately. breathless as she grips his shoulders, “what’d you say?”

his cock aches and his cheeks burn, any hope that she’d just ignore it and continue had flown out of the window, “what?” acting clueless, “i didn’t.. didn’t say anything.”

eddie knows full well what had slipped out of his loose lips, muscle memory from the embarrassing amount of times he had whined your name while imagining that it was your hand wrapped around his cock instead.

“you said somebody else’s name,” she frowns, sounding far too close to a possessive girlfriend rather than the one night stand that she actually was.

“did i? i don’t really remember.. does it matter?” with full sincerity, wondering if she was going to stay on his dick or climb off and throw him out.

“if i’m having sex with someone, i at least expect them to know my name,” she scowls, clambering from his lap to the empty space next to him.

“shit,” he mumbles, head in his hands, “fuck. i’m sorry,” sobering up instantly, embarrassed by his blunder.

she sighs, taking pity on his pathetic self, “is she your ex or something?” re-dressing herself with an old t-shirt, rightfully putting an end to their encounter.

“no..” eddie frowns, shaking his head, “she’s my.. my friend.”

best friend actually. making it all the more confusing and complicated. he’d spare her of all the gory details, for her sake.

“oh,” the girl gawps, stifling her laugh. “you should tell her,” leaning over to grab her phone, no doubt to tell all of her friends about eddie’s embarrassing freudian slip.

he’d deserve it.

-

eddie perches on the end of your bed, not daring to move any closer for fear of losing it and touching you like he dreamed of doing.

it had been four months, two weeks and five days since you’d jerked him off in that tiny bathroom.

not that he was counting.

and still nothing more had happened between you. a few instances where eddie had thought you were close but nothing of any real consequence.

nevertheless, a day hadn’t passed since where he hadn’t thought about it at least once.

he’s memorised every single frame of that video, all the times you pant and twist your hand. the exact second his phone falls onto the counter and the video changes to an image of the back of his head.

every. last. detail.

you jab your foot into his back, peering over your phone screen to frown at him, “what’s wrong with you?”

eddie sighs, letting his shoulders slump, still staring at the torn ac/dc poster he had ripped off the wall for you. it reminds him too much of times where things weren’t so complicated.

“i hooked up with someone the other day,” he states monotonously, uncaring anymore about telling you what had really happened.

“okay?” you jab him again, “why are you sad about that?” confusion echoing.

“i’m not sad.”

you sit up, the mattress shifting behind him, “then what the fuck’s your problem?” leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder, in that similar position you were in all those months ago.

sometimes he wishes you’d never touched him. that he had just settled with chrissy and you had never been an option. not that you really were now, still unobtainable, taunting and teasing him.

“i said your name,” he exhales in one big breath, “i said your name while i was having sex with her.”

his shoulders felt lighter now, despite you still resting on them. something about the relief of finally letting you know how he felt. embracing his stupidity.

“really?” your mouth falls open, “holy shit, that’s funny,” he can feel your hands creep up his back, sending shivers over his skin.

eddie shakes his head, at a loss for words. he could see how you’d find it funny, but he couldn’t see the humour in it himself. in fact, it was a marker for the absolute desperation he felt towards your new complex relationship. not only had you taken over all of his waking thoughts, but you’d somehow subliminally crept into his intoxicated mind thoo.

“what were you thinking about? when you said it,” you pry, head twisting around to look at him.

“you.”

“me?” you rasp, right into his ear. “what about me?” feeling your breath against his cheek, transporting him straight back to wayne’s cramped bathroom.

his eyes fall shut, like he’s in some humiliation ritual, getting off to the way you teased him so.

“that video.. that stupid video,” he whispers, tuned in to every twitch of your fingers on his back, your soft breaths in his ear.

“oh,” he can hear the smirk in your voice, unwilling to open his eyes to see it again, “is that it? just the video?”

he doesn’t understand why you’re asking so many questions. obviously enjoying the way he squirmed under your touch, antsy and reluctant to say anything.

“i was.. picturing you were her,” he squeezes out, blood rushing to not only his cheeks, but his cock too.

“aw,” you coo, hand sliding higher, “tell me how it felt,” voice thick with desire, fingers circling around his shaking shoulders.

“good..” his eyes squeeze together, feeling his jeans shift uncomfortably, “not as good as you did,” almost begging, pleading for it.

you hum, your other hand finding the top of his thigh, dangerously close to the tent in his jeans.

if you kept this up, he’d cum all over his fucking pants.

you squeeze the skin, a low grumble from yours lips, “what position were you in?”

oh god.

“w-why?” eddie chokes, seeing stars behind his eyelids.

“i just wanna know, eds.. so i can picture the scene.”

his head tilts back, allowing you the opportunity to creep into the crook of his neck, traces of your lips just barely touching the sensitive skin.

“please tell me,” you mumble, vibrating against his trachea, making his toes curl, grounding himself with the rough carpet.

“she was on top,” he spits, balling his fist around your blanket.

it didn’t feel real between his fingers, poorly substituting your body for the cotton.

“oh,” you shift, the bed frame creaking as you clamber into his lap, resting atop of his thighs. “like this?”

he doesn’t open his eyes. can’t, not without cumming his pants right there. but he can feel you, perched just below his crotch,

“what’d she do now? hmm?” dragging your nails down his chest, your fingers prod at his skin, forcing him to flop back against the mattress.

the space allows you to shuffle upwards, your cunt brushing against his aching cock, leaving him no choice but to turn into pure mush beneath you.

“fuck,” he breathes, daring a glance in hopes to keep the image ingrained in his mind forever.

your hips begin to grind against his crotch, groaning softly with your palms flat to his chest.

“you like that?” you purr, rocking back and forth on top for he rough denim of his jeans.

“i need you.. fuck, please,” he keens, fingertips so firmly pressed into your waist that they’d leave indentations for days.

you don’t respond, sighing softly as the friction between you grows stronger, cruel and twisted in the way you tease him.

he doesn’t understand what all of these almost-encounters mean. it’s like you want him but not fully. holding yourself back for the right moment or perhaps just trying to keep him going until somebody else came along.

his hands slide around to your ass, moving with every jerk and cant of your hips. gruff, frustrated sighs leave his mouth, mixing somewhere in the air with your whiny moans. need and urgency ricocheting around the walls of your room, yet neither one of you prepared to take it all the way.

“jesus eds, are you gonna cum?” you breathe, as much as this was for his benefit, you were getting off as well.

that alone makes this other worldly. even if he was doing absolutely none of the work, you were writhing and gasping just as he was.

it’s almost incomprehensible how much you using him to get off was frying his brain.

eddie was about to combust, the closeness of it all, so near and yet still so far apart. two layers of clothes felt like a million miles. finally brave enough to open his eyes, hoping to keep this image seared into his brain forever.

“yeah.. yeah i’m gonna cum,” he whines, jerking his hips up to meet yours, rocking against each other in perfect rhythm, “please.. oh fuck- fuckfuckfuck,” his cock positioned perfectly between your folds, covering your pajama shorts with your slick.

“good boy,” you breathe, fingers twisted into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, not letting up on your torturous grinding.

your tone is somewhere between mocking and sincere, but he doesn’t care. doesn’t have the brain capacity to if he’s honest.

his cock twitches against his boxers, hips shuddering into the air as an uncomfortable warmth overtakes his crotch.

“oh god.. shit,” the sudden realisation of the mess in his pants, how grotesquely down bad he was for you, hits all at once.

your lips curve, shuffling down to the top of his thighs. you don’t exchange words, just a sly glance that erupts into giggles. leaning down to peck his lips as your hands let go of their hold on his chest.

eddie’s hands don’t move, gripping onto your hips, hoping you’ll stay there for the rest of eternity. not only had he cum in his pants, he had done so at a disturbingly fast rate. a few minutes of what was essentially dry humping had left him sticky and full of shame.

“are you ever gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, practically begging for your mercy, needing to know for his own sake.

he likes to think that if you said no, he’d be able to walk away with his dignity, to never let this embarrassing display for pathetic yearning happen again.

yet deep down, he also knows that that’ll never happen. you could string him along forever and ever and he’d never do a thing about it other than cherish the moments you let him touch you.

your laugh topples over, slinging your leg over his waist to kneel beside his lifeless body, “one day,” kneeing him softly in the side, “go get changed, i’m hungry,” climbing off of the mattress, disappearing from his eyesight.

his head flops back onto the bed, sweaty and exhausted, ignoring the feel of his boxers clinging to his skin and the inevitable wet patch seeping through to his jeans.

an insatiable churning in his stomach for more, for you.

but eddie is eddie, so instead of doing any of the things that he really wanted to do, he rolls off of your bed with a sigh, shimmying out of his jeans just as you’d asked him to.

[shepscapades]

Shep. Shep... SHEP....

Oh my god, wonderful thing to wake up to tbh, THIS, THIS PART THIS AAAA AAAAA IT'S SO GREAT

I want to speak about some things here!!!

I can't even see his face but your Xisuma is SO PRETTY, I knew you were going to give him long hair I JUST KNEW IT

love how Doc needs to lean on X to get on his knees because you know HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS OTHER ARM NEEDED FOR BALANCE??

Looks a lot like Etho getting a flashback (left corner) because he's not covered in thirium and also the colouring is different, not sure to what this flashback could refer to, but I'm gussing last life (maybe his final death in last life? Since this situation is also very death-like)

Absolutely LOVE this panel, I really like how in the entirety of this comic the lines that divide panels are always messy/electric/chaotic because that's what's happening in the comic: chaos. But in this panel when Etho connects with Doc, It's peaceful, It's not an agressive action - It's actually the opposite, It's a peaceful, desperate, last cry for help before Doc shuts Etho down

Now that's an interesting panel, I love Etho's talking being wavy, fading in and out, and all over the place - it's probably meant to represent his thoughts and it does a really good job with it! Every one of these sentences sound heartbreaking in context "I'm so scared" especially gets to me, for no reason actually, maybe because I'm surrounded by death lately irl and it just makes me think about those topics more- how terrifying it actually can be when you think about it

There's a lot of scenes in this panel, I noticed they are actually drawn in chronological order, they go from top left corner (Etho opening his eyes for the first time and seeing Doc and X) and go clockwise (to the panel of Bdubs' death in last life and Etho's hands shaking) get it? CLOCKwise because Bdubs really likes clo- *gets shot*

Also just wanted to point how CRAZY it is when you realise that the first thing Etho saw when he was created was Xisuma on his right and Doc standing on his left a little further away, and the last thing he sees before shutting down is almost the same scene but slightly different and more chaotic! That's some crazy detail-

also not that important detail but Doc started saying "Xisuma" in this panel but was cut off on the "Xis" part when he snapped back into his senses and decided to do something instead of just. standing there 🧍‍♂️

SO YEAH I'M SO SORRY RIP TO YOUR INBOX GHGHGHHGHGHJFSJDFS JMGJ THIS IS SO LONG

but uhhh I just needed to get it out it's been like 4 months since the last part so now I'm going feral 👍

There's probably a lot of things I wanted to say that I forgot here sooooooo Idk prepare for more i guess--

Anyways have a nice day Shep you're amazing <3!

RAHHHH thank you so much!!! THIS WAS A DELIGHT TO WAKE UP TO!!! I had too many thoughts so I just kinda doodled and rambled a bit :3 hope this is helpful!! And I absolutely LOVE these breakdowns, y’all are so very welcome to tear stuff apart whenever it’s kinda everything to me >:3 BUT YES IM SO GLAD YOU ARE GOING CRAZY!!! I’m so happy I finally get to share my insanity sfjbdfgkndbn

(Featuring a version of the interfacing page without all of the overlays so you can see everything clearly!)

[pepperonidk]

11:31 p.m. || k.mg

Pairing: mingyu x gn!reader (i do mention that the reader is walking down the aisle)

Summary: just some wedding hypotheticals. mingyu can't wait to marry you

Warnings: tom holland mention? lol

Word Count: 633

a/n: everyone around me seems to be in love and on the brink of marriage. i just keep wondering when is it my turn?

main masterlist || taglist

one day, not now but not too far away, mingyu swears he can picture it. the chapel is bright, light pouring in from the windowed walls of the cathedral and outside the woods are full of chirping birds. it’s later in the morning, but it’s only the beginning of spring and the dew drops of dawn still hang from each blade of grass.

inside, the aisle is lined with a white carpet littered with flower petals. the piano plays a classic wedding anthem and everyone stands. the pews are lined with smiling faces, but no one smiles wider than him as he catches your eye as you enter the room.

he can picture it so clearly that he wonders if it’s a vision of the future and not just a fantasy. but more so, he wonders if you see it too.

so with your head on his chest and his fingers drawing slow circles on your skin, he asks a question.

“have you ever pictured what our wedding will be like?” the question is quiet, but loud enough to hear over the tv sitcom playing in the background.

mingyu shifts his eyes to you as you turn your head up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“my my,” you tease with a small smile. “you haven’t even proposed and you’re already asking about our wedding?”

mingyu rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “you know that’s coming, baby,” he coos. “just a matter of when, not if.”

“fine,” you relent. “i have thought about it, but why do you ask?”

“just wondering,” he hums to himself. his hands move down to yours and you feel him fiddling around with your ring finger. “what have you thought about it?”

“well mostly just small details,” you explain. “like what song i want to walk down the aisle to, our first dance, whether or not we should have an open bar. i could share my pinterest board that i made when i was 16 if you want.”

“we weren’t even dating then,” mingyu states in confusion.

“yeah, it’s for when i was convinced i was going to marry Tom Holland,” you tease, and reach a finger to poke mingyu’s cheek as he pouts in return.

“so i’m just filling in for spiderman?” he pouts.

“hmmm, no you’re more of a captain america to me,” you smile.

“then why don’t i get a pinterest board?” he scoffs in frustration. he wasn’t expecting this when he asked the question, but the way you’re looking at him with such fondness in your eyes soothes any jealousy he feels for the web-shooting hero.

“because,” you shift so you can turn your whole body to face him and reach up to cup his face in your hands. “when i think about our wedding, i want to picture it with you, not laying in bed alone while scrolling through pinterest at 2 am.”

mingyu hangs his head sheepishly and his pout almost instantly fades into a smile. you can’t help but reach up to kiss him softly.

“have you thought about it?” you return the question as you pull away.

“a little,” he begins until you look at him with a prodding look. “okay, a lot.”

“well don’t keep it to yourself,” you tease.

mingyu shakes his head and presses a kiss at the crown of your head instead. “maybe after i finally propose.”

“the suspense is killing me, babe,” you laugh and reach up a hand to cup his face.

“guess i just have to hurry up and propose then,” he smiles as he leans down to kiss you sweetly.

maybe it is a vision, mingyu decides. it’s his vision. but, he thinks, whatever the two of you decide together will be better because it’s real and he’ll share it with you.

taglist: @yksthings @alonelystarfish @celestialchans @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae @maverey

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello~ I don't know if someone has already ask this but I'll just ask anyway. What made you so interested in Jade? I'm not saying it's a bad thing or anything of the sort. I'm just very intrigued.

Also to feed into your J-word brain rot I present to you this, but picture Jade. Lol I saved this photo as hot damn Sebastain.

Hello, hello!! ^^ I’ve made a post before that explains my interest in Jade, but if I’m being entirely honest 💦 it’s all over the place and difficult to read because of how often I go all caps and keyboard smashing. I’ll try to summarize my thoughts here in a way that’s more digestible and calm.

I love many of the little details about his face: the shape of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, how his brows are arched, etc. I also have a visceral, near animalistic urge to tug on that black bit of hair he has sprouting out...

His manner of dress also resonates with me! Jade is usually well covered and in formal attire, and I think that makes it more exciting on the instances when he dresses down (whether that be going without his gloves or choosing something more casual to wear).

His intelligence. I've always preferred characters who rely on their smarts over their strength to achieve their goals, and Jade fits the bill. One particular example is how his UM is limited in scope and usage, so he has to carefully plan and strategize about how and when he casts it. It's nice that Jade can also loosen up and use his cunning not necessarily for nefarious deeds, but just to tease others.

He plays support and he plays it well. I also have a tendency to like "helper" characters (butlers, bodyguards, knights, etc.), which is another archetype that Jade slots into. He is highly competent as a vice dorm leader, personal assistant, and right-hand man (eel?) to Azul. Plus, Jade knows when and how to play to his strengths (especially when it comes to deception and disarming others) and adapt to any situation he is placed in. Jade has even earned the approval of the notoriously hard to please Vil!

He keeps you guessing, and you'll still never even see it coming. I think it's interesting that he appears more docile than Floyd, yet Azul warns his peers that Jade is the more dangerous twin since Jade won't telegraph his schemes or bad moods (unlike Floyd). I 100% agree with Azul; not knowing what Jade has in store or when it will hit you is much scarier--but also much more thrilling in a way, haha...

Similar to the last point but much more specific; I love Love LOVE those moments when he's smiling while saying the most horrendous things (the infamous "what I'd do to anyone that betrays me" line lives rent free in my head). I also adore it when Jade is lying to your face and overacting (like when he pretends he got dust in his eye in book 4). He's so dramatic while lying his heart out, it makes me giggle.

Jade works with many of the tropes I like to go for when I want comfort. Househusband/domestic life stuff, butler looking after you, etc. I have a habit of overworking and forgetting to take care of my needs, so it's easier for me to remember if I pretend like Jade's the one doing the self-care for me.

I appreciate that he appreciates nature. I don't get to touch much grass (not that I don't go outside, it's that there isn't much grass in the area I live in)... so I get very excited whenever I get to just enjoy nature in its purest form, taking in that fresh air. It makes me feel like we're kindred spirits.

The duality of eel. Overall, I'd say that the reason I like Jade so much is because he can be many things which typically run contradictory to one another. I think that makes for a fun character that keeps me on my toes ^^

NOT YOU USING “J WORD” TOO… 💀 It’s spreading… just like a bunch of spores…

Aaaah, it’s Sebastian!! It’s been years and years since I read Black Butler (I think I stopped around the Blue Cult arc?). He’s still just as effortlessly elegant as I remember him being… I guess that’s par for the course for one hell of a butler, huh?

Here, lemme just… *crudely draws on him* THERE WE GO, THE J WORD SSR FOR AN EVENT WHERE WE VISIT THE LAND OF CRIMSON LONG :>

Thank you for your question and the rot fuel 🥰

[fluentmoviequoter]

Confident in Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x confident!fem!reader (single mom)

Summary: You're confident, you keep Tim on his toes, but he realizes that it's not enough. He learns that you have a son from a previous relationship while Angela is pressuring him to ask you out, but you beat him to it.

Warnings: misogynistic comments (not from Tim), fluff, flirting, Tim gets a little nervous around r, r's son likes Optimus Prime (bc I like Transformers)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“C’mon, babe, wake up!” you call again, holding your phone away from your face. “Okay, sorry, Angela, how can I help you?” you ask into the microphone.

“Babe? Did someone spend the night?” Angela teases.

“You know he did. Early morning calls from you are new, though.”

“We’re infiltrating a money laundering scheme. The Metro captain said you’d be a good fit to lead the operation,” she explains.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Perfect! And I’d tell you to take your time getting ready, but you always look good.”

“Back atcha.”

You end the call and yell another wake-up call with more urgency. There’s a case to be worked on, and you know you can get it done. If you can get to work, that is.

“Sergeant Bradford,” you greet as you approach Angela’s desk. “Detective Lopez.”

“Morning,” Tim replies.

You smile at him before asking Angela where your temporary team is. She tells you they’re arriving shortly and meeting in the roll call room. There’s a case file spread open on her desk, and you lean beside her to look at it.

“When do you think your captain will just realize that I’d be a great permanent fixture on your team?” you ask Tim, looking up through your lashes. “I’d only distract you boys sometimes.”

“I think that’s the major concern,” Tim deadpans.

“Granted, we wouldn’t be able to work together,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“We’d draw too much attention, Tim. Look at us.”

You smile again and Tim shakes his head. Your confidence reads as flirtation occasionally, but Tim has always been drawn to you. He’s constantly impressed by how good you are at your job, and how aware you are of what you are worth. Your strengths and weaknesses are well-known to you, and you use them to your advantage. Most importantly, you don’t let anyone walk over you. Being a woman in the police force is hard, but you make it look effortless and do it with grace.

“Why am I in charge of this?” you ask.

“You’ve worked a laundering op before, right?” Angela asks.

“I assisted in one when I was on patrol, yeah.”

“A very successful one, from what I hear. Since you’ve been on the ground for one, you were the best choice.”

You nod before you notice the Metro team enter. As you stand and move toward Tim, he wonders if you’re this confident outside of work, or if it’s something you’ve built up to maintain your sanity in a job surrounded by men.

“Think we’ll be done by eight?” you murmur.

“Why? Have a date?” he counters.

“Something like that,” you reply with a wink. “Let’s go catch some money launderers, Bradford.”

“We’ve got three Metro teams here for this op,” the Metro captain explains as you enter. “Work together or get out of my station, is that clear?”

Overlapping replies of “Yes, ma’am” mix as you lead Tim toward the front of the roll call room. A television screen shows the layout of the warehouse you will be infiltrating, but you have to explain all the minor details. Your previous success in a place like this was due to the precision of little movements, and this will be no different.

“So, what’s the plan?” a man in the front row asks.

You nod toward him and say, “Our goal is-“

“I was asking Sergeant Bradford,” he interjects.

You smile at him as you explain, “I’m in charge of this operation, so I can answer any questions you have. Our goal is to infiltrate the operation without breaching. Once inside, we can better understand the operation. Then, three different teams will breach from the locations marked on the map.”

“‘Scuse me,” someone calls from the back.

“Yes?”

“Why leave the front side open during the breach?”

“Excellent question. This unit backs up to a storefront on the opposite side. Patrol units will evacuate that store before the raid, so there will be no exfil points nor civilian interaction.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No problem. You have your team assignments, and we will ensure each team is in location before the infiltration. In the case of anyone exiting the building before the breach begins, immobilize and detain as quickly and quietly as possible. Are there any other questions?”

Everyone shakes their head, and you hear the first man who cut you off mutter something under his breath.

“One more thing,” their captain adds. “If any one of you have decided to feel misogynistic today, get out now. I will not tolerate you rejecting orders for any reason. One more disrespectful comment toward another officer will get you benched. Indefinitely. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men call together.

As they leave, she apologizes to you, but you brush off her concerns with a smile. You’re used to it, and she is too.

“Thank you for letting me join this operation,” you tell her.

“Of course. I hear you and Bradford are the best,” she replies. “Prove ‘em right.”

You nod before following Tim out. There’s a bit of time until you have to change and prepare to infiltrate, and you have paperwork to do until then.

“Good work in there,” Tim says.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Bradford,” you joke. “See you in a bit.”

He watches you walk toward your desk. When Angela slaps his arm, though, he turns away quickly with wide eyes.

“What was that for?” he demands.

“Are you going to ask her out or not?” she sighs.

“Not.”

“Why not?”

“Um, I don’t have a death wish,” Tim says dramatically. “She does not like being hit on, you know that.”

“No, she doesn’t like being objectified. You asking her out – genuinely being interested in her – would get an entirely different response.”

Tim rolls his eyes and notices a man walking toward you. He lays a hand on Angela’s shoulder and turns her toward you.

“Hey, baby, you need someone to escort you home tonight?” the man asks, though his eyes are nowhere near your face. “No need to go home without a man one more time, right?”

“The only boy I’ll be taking home tonight is my son, so no thank you,” you reply easily.

“Son?” Tim whispers.

“You didn’t know?” Angela asks.

“No, I… Look, Lopez, the point is I don’t need her to stop talking to me because I asked her out.”

“Then don’t ask her out like that.”

“She doesn’t want anything!” Tim exclaims. “Drop it.”

You look up when his voice raises, and your brows furrow when you see him talking to Angela. They wave, and you shake your head in amusement before returning your attention to your paperwork.

“I didn’t even know she had a son,” Tim adds quietly. “She keeps me on my toes at work, and that’s enough.”

“Sure,” Angela agrees. “But what about when it’s not enough anymore?”

“So…” Tim begins as you walk down a street to reach the target location.

“Put your arm around me,” you say suddenly.

Tim doesn’t question your request as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. His eyes are on your face, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s busier than I thought it’d be,” you murmur. “Don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Not a problem. We’re going to a place that doesn’t exist anyway,” Tim replies.

“You seem… off. Are you okay to do this?” you check.

“Yeah, I’m good. Angela just pried into my personal life again. Made me question things, for some reason.”

You chuckle and shake your head against Tim’s forearm. “Trust me, I know that situation all too well. She’s been trying to get me to start dating since my son got old enough to be left with a babysitter.”

Tim hums and you realize he may not have known as much about your personal life as Angela. You don’t talk about your home life much at work for a couple of reasons, but the biggest is your concern about the comments you’d get. Being a cop is hard enough, but a cop who is a single mother is much different. The things that the men you work with would say require a level of patience that you don’t have, and your confidence can’t conceal that.

“We’re here,” Tim alerts as you reach the entrance.

He removes his arm from your shoulders and opts to take your hand as he opens the door and leads you inside. The false front, Coo-Coo Cash Checking, is tiny, though you suppose they need as much room as possible for their backdoor counterfeiting business.

“Welcome, folks,” a man says as he steps to the desk. “What can I help you with?”

“My girlfriend and I are looking to buy a house but can’t get approved for the loan we need. A friend of mine told me you, or your boss, Malcolm Dmitri, could help,” Tim explains.

The man nods at the mention of the code word and steps back. “Sure, we can. Mr. Dmitri is in a meeting right now but should be done in about five minutes. Mind waiting?”

“That’s perfect,” Tim replies. “Thank you, sir.”

The door closes behind him and you turn toward Tim.

“Something feels off,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

He looks around, but there isn’t much to see in the five-foot-deep entryway where you stand. You rise to your tiptoes and look over the desk, but there’s nothing back there, either.

“They’re going to do something unexpected,” you say. “Let’s just roll with it.”

“Within reason,” Tim argues.

“What if my reason is different than yours?” you ask, leaning against him and smiling.

“Then I’ll pull rank,” he answers, sounding breathless.

“And here I thought we were friends.”

You pout, and Tim looks away quickly. Just as you stand and prepare to apologize for going too far, the door opens again.

“Mr. Dmitri can see you now. The problem is his office is small, so it’ll have to be one at a time. He’ll see you first, Miss…” he trails off, waiting for your name.

“Walton,” you answer, making up a name quickly.

Tim squeezes your hand, but you run your finger over his palm as you step forward. He registers your signal but doesn’t like what you’re about to do.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” you promise as you walk through the door.

Tim leans back against the wall as he waits for your signal to breach. He will rush inside the moment he hears it. Not a moment before, though, because he knows you and you know what you’re doing.

As you and Tim walk out of the front door after a successful raid, you pull his hand into yours again.

“Ask me what you wanted to ask before,” you say softly. “I don’t keep my personal life a secret from you on purpose, it’s just that some of the guys at work… I know how they’d treat me if they knew I had a kid.”

“I get it,” Tim replies. “You said you’re a single mom. I guess I’m just surprised anyone would leave you.”

“I left him,” you admit. “I know what I’m worth and that didn’t always sit well with him. I wouldn’t change a thing, though, because I got an amazing son out of the deal.”

“What were you thinking?” one of the Metro officers demands as you near the rendezvous point. “Going in there alone was stupid!”

“I had the situation under control,” you reply calmly.

Tim drops your hand and levels his gaze on the man before you. He’s too close to you, but Tim won’t step in unless he has to. You can handle yourself, he knows that, but it doesn’t keep him from getting angry with people who talk down to you.

“Clearly! They could’ve taken you in a second!” he replies. “How do you deal with her, Bradford? You just let her waltz into a death trap.”

“She is good at what she does,” Tim answers. “And you would do well to treat her like the cop she is and not my assistant. This is her operation, so stop questioning her decisions.”

“Oh, she’s got you on a tight leash, Bradford.”

“That’s enough,” you interrupt, your friendly smile long gone. “I know what I am doing, and since you clearly have no trust in me as a member of your team, you can go.”

“That’s not your call, girlie.”

Tim steps forward, but his Metro captain approaches before he can say anything.

“She dismissed you, officer. That means go. Now.”

The officer rolls his eyes and stomps as he pushes against your shoulder to get past. You shake your head before you ask if all of the suspects are in custody.

“Every one of them,” the captain answers. “Excellent work in there.” “I appreciate that,” you reply. “Sergeant Bradford was a great asset in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Reviews are coming up soon.”

She winks at Tim before she pats your shoulder and returns to the mobile command unit. You exhale and roll your shoulders back to stand straighter.

“I’m sorry,” Tim offers.

“I don’t let it affect me anymore. My confidence threatens their insecurity, so they try to knock me down. I’ve gotten very good at standing my ground. But I meant what I said, you were great in there; couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I wasn’t even with you,” Tim argues.

“Yes, you were. I knew that you’d be there the moment I signaled. That’s why I was okay going a few steps further alone because you had my six.”

“Always.”

“There is one thing I’d like to ask you to do, though,” you begin. Tim nods, and you request, “Whatever Angela wanted you to do, go do it. She looks out for our best, even when it just feels like pointless meddling.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can.”

“No, I really-“

“Tim,” you groan, leaning back.

“She wants me to ask you out,” Tim blurts out.

You stand up to look at him, and he simply shrugs. Though you suspect why he doesn’t want to do it, based on how you usually respond to being hit on at work, you know that you would say yes before he even finished.

“I have a kid,” you remind him quietly.

“So?” Tim asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s a non-starter for most guys.”

“Most guys are idiots, then.”

You smile as you agree. “But you’re not. So, what are you going to do?”

Tim shakes his head, so you sigh and do something for both of you.

“Tim Bradford, will you go out with me?” you ask.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m asking you out. Now, my son may have to crash the date because my sitter is supposed to leave early tomorrow, but he’s a good kid. Most of the time.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “Yeah, let’s go out.”

“See, that wasn’t so scary,” you tease. You lean toward him to whisper, “And I promise that I’m not just using you to be a good influence in my son’s life. He has all the father figure he needs in Optimus Prime.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim asks quietly.

“Which part?”

“The-“

You cut Tim off with a kiss on the cheek, and when your hands hit his shoulders to steady yourself, he knows that Angela was right. She can never know that, though, and it was a one-time thing. Tim pulls you into a hug before you can pull back.

“Thank you for defending me,” you tell him.

“You didn’t need it,” he counters.

“Yet you did it anyway. That makes it even better, Tim.”

“Thanks for asking me out.”

“Now that we did need. I can get another sitter so we can go on a real date.”

“No, bring your son. He’s important to you, so he needs to be a part of this. If he doesn’t like me, we go back to being work friends.”

“And if he does?”

“Then I guess I have to fight Optimus Prime.”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think. “I think you could take him with a little help from me.”

“A sentient robot who turns into a semi versus two human cops? You’re more confident than I thought.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, I don’t.”

You step away from Tim and smile. “Then it’s a date. Am I in charge of this operation or are you?”

“Well, you did this one so well… I’ll handle the date; you just look perfect as always.”

You gasp and point at Tim as you walk backward toward your car. “You can flirt!”

“I learned from the best,” he replies playfully. “See you tomorrow.”

“Twice!” you remind him. “And, Tim, don’t bother to brush up on your fighting skills. You’re better than Optimus, every day of the week. He’s going to adore you.”

I hope so because I adore his mom, Tim thinks. Maybe more than adore.

[rainbowcaleb]

FICLET FRIDAY: My Flowerhaired Prince

Prompt: long hair Essek | Pairing: Shadowgast | Rating: T | Wordcount: 811 | CW: none

A trio of wind chimes ring in Caleb’s head. He puts his hand on the page of his book, and looks towards the front hall. The afternoon sun is low enough in the sky that the floor is confettied with colored splashes from the stained glass inset on the door. He watches and waits. There’s a shuffling against the door, but no secondary alarm goes off. Caleb lets out his breath and returns to his book. He’s borrowed it from Veth and it’s long past due to return to her. Apparently she’s trying to start a bookclub with Jester and this is their first pick. He smiles to himself; The Gale and the Raven is a rather raunchy pick, but he can see the appeal. The descriptions are lovingly, explicitly, detailed.

The door opens and Caleb turns his page. Only a rare few know where he lives, and even rarer who have a key. It has been seven years and his anxieties, while not gone, slumber like a cat in a sunbeam more often than they roar.

“Caleb, I’m back.” It’s Essek, because of course it is. He lives here, comfortably settled into life with Caleb, three cats, and friends who come and go whenever they are in town.

“How was the market?” Caleb calls out. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no, it’s all in one basket. Ah, darling, you won’t believe how ripe the plums are right now. Mister Aplinn was kind enough to set aside a carton for me, which proved fortuitous as Jester’s pastry errand took a while first.”

Caleb finishes up his page and picks an envelope off the endtable to use as a bookmark. It’s the outside of the wedding invitation from Jester and Fjord, the contents of which he’s memorized.

“How is Jester? Did you send along my regrets? The problem with teaching isn’t the students, it is always the endless meetings—” Caleb stops talking. Essek has just entered the room. “Oh.”

Essek raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” He starts towards the kitchen to unload his basket. Caleb practically throws the book onto his seat and goes to follow him.

“Essek, you look…” Caleb feels completely tongue tied. Yes, he saw Essek just this morning, early sunlight through peachy curtains making his bare skin glow against the covers of their shared bed. But Essek has returned looking different.

“Yes, ah, well you see Jester is practicing.” There’s a hint of color starting to dust across his cheeks.

Caleb raises his hands and cups those warm cheeks and turns Essek to face him. “For the wedding?”

“Yes.” Essek holds his gaze. “Do you like it?”

“Dear, you look lovely.” Caleb can’t help but twist a finger around one of the curls that has fallen across Essek’s forehead. Jester has taken full advantage of the new shoulder length growth, braiding a crown of hair around his head and leaving the rest to gently fall in waves. Intermingled with the braids are fresh flowers; dainty pink, spring green, and blue petals frame Essek’s face like gilding surrounding a fine painting.

“Jester didn’t have a mirror, but I did try and glance in a shop window. It’s not really me, I would say, but—” Essek pauses, and Caleb can sense the words tumbling until smooth. “It is something new.”

It warms Caleb’s heart, and he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to Essek’s smiling mouth. “If you wear this to the wedding, it is only fair that you braid my hair too. We should match.”

Standing this close together Caleb can practically see a sparkle in Essek’s eyes at the suggestion. “Yes, yes, a very good idea. But you can’t wiggle this time. It’ll ruin your hair.”

Caleb pouts. “When do I wiggle?”

Essek reaches up and threads his hand through Caleb’s hair, tugging a little as he goes. Caleb leans into his touch immediately, barely stifling a humming moan.

“See?” Essek kisses his neck, now handily bared as Caleb leans to his side. “You like it too much.”

“That simply means we need to practice, get it out of my system so to speak.” Caleb slides his arms down and around Essek, pulling him flush against him. “Good news, my evening plans are wide open. Shall we begin?”

“Caleb!” Essek does not pull away, but his tone is all playful admonishment. “But the food needs to be put away, the plums…”

Essek should have seen it coming. Caleb tugs him tighter, palming his backside in the process.

“Yes, the plum, which I have right now.”

That earns him a yank of his hair, but Caleb’s reaction is all reward, not punishment. Essek kisses the tip of his nose.

“Fine, you win. But you are making dinner afterwards.”

“Whatever you say, my flower haired love, now let me take you to bed.”

[sexyandcringe]

Part 1 ◇

Warnings: none except mentions of readers past traumas, mention of sexual objectification.

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt no comfort.

A/n: it's my first long-fic, please be nice :)

You're not used to being loved.

Your parents were always strict, hardly ever showing their affection, you didn't even have any close friends until you started working, where you found your best friend who showed you the blessings of a platonic love; but time passes and things happen, you had to move out of the town, leave your one true friend behind.

You are not used to love but especially romantic love, because all men did was see you as the object of their sexual desires, or maybe a good time-pass until a better one came along. Never as a person with feelings, never as a woman who loved them more than they loved her.

Sometimes you were too much, sometimes you weren't enough.

Too affectionate, too clingy, too dramatic, too loud. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not horny enough. You tried and tried to be more, to be less, to be loved, but despite your efforts, love remained elusive, even with women.

So, after years of hoping and yearning, you resigned yourself to a loveless existence.

It is not to say that you never felt happy; even if you didn’t have love, you had fun and drama, you had friends to drink with (accompanied by the ting of pain the day after), you had a lot of books to read (leaving a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you finished one), you had dates and clothes and all the good and beautiful things in life and you've learned to appreciate these fragments of happiness.

But sometimes you get lonely.

You are used to it at this point, the crushing weight in your chest at 11 PM is your daily ritual before you finally give in to sleep.

So when you see Osamu Miya’s warm smile as he greets you in his restaurant, you battle to stop your stupid crazed heart, which is currently trying to jump out of your mouth.

You are just a client, his smile doesn’t mean anything, he is only doing his job, and you have seen him give the same smile to the old ladies who only order a coffee and linger to chatter for more than two hours, too. He’s a professional, after all. You are a regular and all he wants is your money, the bastard.

(you completely ignore the fact that he remembers details about you that no one bothers to remember; like the colour of your jewellery, the names of the dogs in your shelter or how your eyeliner is a little glittered today.)

Still, you are glad you got to know him. If anything, at least he is a good friend to you, always listening to what you have to say and filling your stomach with delicious food.

“ ‘Evening, Y/N. The usual?” He asks. You nod as you sit on the corner of the counter, the same seat you sat on the first day you came in.

(Osamu puts a “Reserved” sign on it every day until your arrival, not letting anyone else sit on it because it’s yours. But you don’t need to know that.)

You chatter with Tsumoto, the part-timer student who works in his shop, about his new crush, giving him advice you wouldn’t listen to nor follow from somebody else, and just as you are about to tell him that he should just write love letters to his crush, the doorbell rings; a pretty girl with dark long hair and the body of a goddess walks in, looking around for something, or better, for someone.

“‘Samuuu!” she calls him just as he comes out of the kitchen, and his face lights up, his arms envelop her figure and her lips meet his cheeks in an affectionate gesture.

… what?

“Emi! How are you, doll?” his voice holds tenderness as he guides the girl to one of the seats available, “Have a seat, I'll fix something up for you.”

She is a beautiful girl indeed, her hair flutters in the air like sea waves and her deep green eyes would make any man weak in his knees. She graces him with a smile, her flawless teeth gleaming.“A coffee is enough ‘Samu, I’m going to meet a friend soon.”

“Roger that!” he nods, signaling to Tsumoto for the order, before returning his attention to her.

He looks happy, you don’t think he has ever looked at you with this much fondness, and you’ve never witnessed any girl embrace him, let alone kiss his cheek. Hell, you didn’t even know if he had any female friends who were not his friends’s girlfriends.

(You feel your vision blur and something clenches in your chest. You swallow it down.)

You have no idea what they are talking about, you are not listening, all you can think about is how much you feel so so stupid. You didn’t hope for anything, you tried not to hope for anything at all, but feelings are hard to get rid of, especially if you see the one causing these feelings every week.

You look at them talking like best friends who haven’t seen each other for a long time and the feeling of inadequacy gnaws at you. You wonder if you ever even stood a chance to begin with. You yearned to be someone close to Osamu, someone who could give him hugs and kisses easily, someone who knew everything about him; you yearned to be part of his inner circle, but now you feel utterly stupid and delusional. Of course, he would never see you in that light, his affection is reserved only for a pretty girl like her. Of course he wouldn’t even think about getting physical with you. What were you even thinking?

Of course, you can’t be part of his world.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

[gothcsz]

Dusk | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become a park ranger at a national park in California after breaking up with your ex. You meet Joel Miller, the chief ranger there, and find yourself absolutely smitten over him.

Tags: smut, attempted assault (not by joel), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), no use of Y/N, reader is a professor, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i wrote this during a long car ride in my notes app so i’m NAWT liable for any mistakes xoxo this is also my first attempt at writing joel so i hope i did our man justice 😋

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbles nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that.”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

And he does, god does he take good care of her and you for the remainder of the night.

[imagineshere-forall]

- staying with mom pt. 2 ✰ e. diaz

Summary/Request: For a part 2 to Staying With Mom, maybe they’re at the hospital getting Mom checked out and both Chris and Eddie keep calling her mom. The reader is just having all the feels and she just loves it and Eddie loves it too. If you need more detail just let me know.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: poor medical knowledge and tooth rotting fluff

Pairing:  Eddie Diaz x fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: Not super happy with how this turned out, but oh well, I missed writing and wanted to write some more. Please send requests im up to s7 of the walking dead, so am also taking requests for that! Also in this Shannon never came back, she left and Chris has no memory of her.

part one

The journey in the ambulance had been uneventful, despite there being a paramedic in the back of the van with you and your boys, Eddie had taken over your care. The paramedic that had been accompanying in the van had mostly just sat back and let him take over, occasionally pointing out where some bits of equipment were.

The pain in your leg was still excruciating, and it didn’t help that Eddie was shining a light in your pupils every few minutes to check the reactions. Once he realised your leg injury was not your only injury, and you had been knocked unconscious by debris, he had become frenzied urging the driver to go faster while he kept checking your vitals. You hadn't even told him you hit his head, but when he helped you to get a bit more comfortable on the stretcher he noticed the blood that stained his hand after he held your head.

“Eddie, I’m fine, my leg is just hurting” You said, pushing the torch away from your face after Eddie started checking your eyes again.

“Fine? Babe your head is bleeding and your leg is looking a bit squashed,” Eddie sighed. He was clearly worried about you. 

Chris had remained curled up to your side on the stretcher, clutching your middle, scared to let go. Despite the stressful situation, his heart had warmed at the sight in front of him. 

Once you had arrived at the hospital you were placed in the urgent waiting room. As you were still conscious and talking, people who had been more injured in the earthquake had taken priority over you. Due to the state of your leg the ambulance staff had placed you in a wheelchair and disinfected the stretcher before they headed back out to help more people. 

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked, once again. 

“Chris, your dad is crazy,” You said, ignoring Eddie looking at the boy slouched over the arm of your wheelchair. Eddie rolled his eyes and smirked at this. 

It wasn’t much longer until you were called to be seen by a doctor, and your boys quickly stood up and wheeled you into the room with the doctor. Chris held onto your hand and walked alongside you as Eddie pushed you.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked as soon as she shut the door to the private room.

“Mom got hurt in the earthquake,” Chris spoke first. He was so quick that you hadn’t had the chance to speak yet. 

“Well, we better check mom out then,” The doctor said, smiling at Chris.

For the rest of the appointment, you were referred to as mom as the doctor tried to reassure Chris, and it just warmed something in your heart. Unknown to you but it also made Eddie’s heart swell. 

Despite you feeling fine, the doctor wanted to keep you for observation overnight and you had managed to convince her to let Eddie and Chris stay with you. Chris went back to being snuggled into your side once you were given a bed, and promptly fell asleep. 

“How are you feeling, mom?” Eddie whispered, putting emphasis on the last word. 

“Apart from the broken leg, I feel amazing,” you whispered looking down at the sleeping boy tightly curled into you. “I can’t believe he called me mom.”

“He loves you so much, as do I.” Eddie smiled as he leant forward to give you a small kiss “Which I guess means I've got to do something.”

You looked puzzled as Eddie leant over and shook Chris awake. 

“Eddie, he was asleep, what are you doing?” you ask, very confused, but your question was ignored.

“Chris, do you remember that thing I said I was going to ask mom one day, it’s time.” Upon hearing this Chris shot up, filled with so much energy and sat up at the end of your bed.

“Your jacket is over there dad” Chris pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. Eddie quickly stood up, and hurried over to the chair, almost slipping over on the clean hospital floors.

“Be careful Eddie, we don’t want both of us injured,” you sighed.

“It’s all good mom, don’t you worry,” he smiled.

Eddie sat down in the chair next to your head, jacket folded over on his lap, and took your hands in his.

“What are you doing?” You sit up a bit more in your bed, confused as to what was happening.

“It’s okay mom,” Chris said. It was hard to feel worried when he called you mom, it made you so happy. You turn back to Eddie who has your hands in his. 

“y/n, you have made both mine and Chris’s life so much better. There isn’t anyone I’d rather be Chris’s mom, and my wife.” Eddie paused, reaching into the inside zip pocket of his jacket. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you were in such shock you were speechless. In Eddie’s hand was a small velvet box. While holding the box, he went back to cradling your hand. 

“y/n will you do me the absolute pleasure of being my wife” Eddie’s voice started to crack. 

“And my mom!” Chris shouted.

“Yes, and Chris’ mom. Will you please marry me?” At this point, Eddie’s voice was wobbling while he awaited your answer. 

You struggled to speak, eyes streaming, your spare hand over your mouth in shock. Unable to get the words out you just nodded. 

“Yes?” Eddie questioned.

“Yes.” you nodded. 

Eddie quickly grabbed your hand and placed the sparkling ring that was once in the box on your ring finger, and then kissed your face all over before placing on last kiss on your lips while cradling your face in his hands. 

“Eddie, have you just been carrying around this gorgeous ring?” you asked as you began to admire the jewellery adorning your finger. 

“For about a year and a half,” he shrugged looking down at your hand. 

“We’ve only been together a little over 2 years,” you laughed. 

“I would’ve had it sooner, but it was really hard to get your ring size without being obvious.” he smiled.

“You are crazy Edmundo,” you laughed.

“Crazy for you, and now you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else, now get your butt on this bed, I want to have a cuddle with my boys,” you said as you shuffled making space for the three of you. Once Eddie was on the bed, you helped Chris get in the middle of you, it was tight and uncomfortable, but you didnt want to be anywhere else. 

“I love you guys, and now you’re my boys, forever.” you smiled as you placed a kissed on each of their heads.

“I love you mom” 

[papercorgiworld]

Outsmarted

Tom Riddle x prefect!reader

You catch Tom wandering the hallways at night and give him detention, but your actions have him obsessing over you. When he spots you at a party with someone else Tom does a very Tom Riddle thing to solve the matter.

Warning: none

It was this request that encouraged me to write another Tom fic and I started it, but struggled to finish. Anyways, I did after a freaking long time. The song night shift is more of a breakup song, but I just went with the vibe of the song and focussed on the bit about kissing someone and it feeling wrong.

You always stuck to your regular patrol, but life as prefect was getting really boring and this night especially you were feeling courageous so you actively walked around Hogwarts. You sigh and are about to turn on your heels when you spot something. It was so swift and dark that you almost mistook it for a shadow, but it was your gut that told you it was someone. “Stop there and reveal yourself.” You demand with your voice firm, but also trembling in fear of who or what you had just caught past midnight.

Your demand is answered by an annoyed sigh and then slow steps moving your way until his figure is fully revealed in the light of your lumos. “Tom?” You blur out surprised to find slytherin’s most flawless, but also dubious student in front of you… caught breaking the rules. Tom raises his eyebrows at your blunt use of his first name and also the questioning tone of your voice. As far as scary prefects go you had failed.

As Tom curiously takes in your every detail, you search somewhat clumsily for your notebook. “I’m writing you up for breaking Hogwarts’ nighttime schedule.” At your words a pompous smile makes its way to Tom’s lips. “There’s no need for that.” The ink has almost touched the paper, but his words make you look up at him. Your confused eyes make Tom give you a soft smile. “I’m sure you’ll find that I can be very persuasive… especially to an innocent mind as yours.” Not impressed by who he was and what his last name meant, those last words have no effect on you and to the slytherin’s surprise your eyes drop back to your notebook. You start to scribble in your little notebook, not paying mind to him at all. Confusing him by your lack of interest in him or what he has to say.

“You shouldn’t report me, I had grounded reasons to be outside. I was out studying late.” He utters urgently, hoping to stop your writing. However, as serious as Tom’s excuse was, you were used to other students sneaking around like his younger brother and his friends so you immediately assumed something different. “Studying somebody’s anatomy right?” You mock with your eyebrows suggestively wiggling  and Tom frowns, confused, not understanding the reference immediately.

“I wasn’t having sex if that’s what you’re implying.” He shamelessly blurts and you’re taken aback by his bluntness, but your mind is quick. “So what were you studying then that you had to do so past midnight and in secret?” You ask and lift your quill from the page, studying him. He’s definitely surprised by your question. You were getting more interesting as he now had to admit that he said too much. “On second thought, I was with someone. Definitely having sex.” A soft chuckle rolls over your lips and he can’t help but notice your gentle beauty. You meet his eyes intrigued by what he really had been doing, but you snap out of it almost immediately.

“That will cost you 30 house points and two weeks detention.” It had been a while since Tom had felt so insulted, he almost felt belittled that some ordinary prefect was giving him detention and taking points. “What? That’s outrageous!” He takes a step towards you but you aren’t impressed and just flipped a page in your notebook where all the rules are listed. “No, it's a standard procedure for walking around the castle at this hour. I’ll also have to notify Mcgonagall. Standard procedure.”

“Whatever. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been caught before.” You close your book and cross your arms. How often does he walk around at night? When Tom notices your eyebrows knit together he rolls his eyes. This is the second time today that I’m saying more than I should. This has to be the most annoying prefect there is. You huff and smile at him with confidence. “And prepare to get caught more often, since I’ll be walking these halls for the coming year.” Tom forces a smile and raises his eyebrows. “Delightfull.”

You smile and shake your head at his tone. “Now straight to your common room. If you are spotted again, you violate the direct authority of a prefect and you have to see the headmaster.” You explain and Tom has to refrain himself from saying anything snappy. He raises his eyebrows and turns around. “Let’s avoid that at all costs shall we.” The sass and venom in his voice has you narrow your eyes at him as he starts walking in the direction of his common room.

Tom can feel your eyes burning into his back and a smirk creeps up on his lips. “I always intended to go there, before you showed up of course, so don’t worry I’ll not stray from my path.”

“Good.” You call after him, wanting the last word in the matter. There was something so smug about how he said everything. 

***

“Detention? You got detention?” Tom rolled his eyes at his brother’s annoying amusement. Salazar, Mattheo can you at least pretend like you aren’t enjoying it this much. Tom’s dark eyes shoot up to Mattheo who tries but fails to hide his smile. “Never thought I would see the day.” Mattheo says, taking the chair opposite of Tom. Really, he’s sitting down for this. Unbelievable. “Neither did I.” Tom dryly states, returning his gaze to his book. “So who outsmarted you?” The younger Riddle bluntly asks, loving how his brother’s entire aura changes at the word ‘outsmarted’. “I wasn’t outsmarted.” Tom snaps with a dark and agitated voice. “Yes, you were.” Mattheo sings. “Was not.” Tom sneers, before noticing how Mattheo had dragged him into a silly argument. Tom sighs and regains his normally calm composure. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll have my revenge.” His brother chuckles. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

***

The week had passed without any incidents and you hadn’t seen Tom at all. Which wasn’t that special. It wasn’t like the two of you saw each other often before the events of that one particular night, but you couldn't help but search for his face so once in a while. There was something intriguing about him and as much as you hated it, a curiosity for him had taken root in your mind. However, there was a Gryffindor party tonight and your plan was to have fun and not even think about Tom Riddle once. 

Tom on the other hand had a different plan. He had observed you carefully without being noticed and his desire for revenge had turned into a desire to have you. He hadn’t seen it coming at all, but suddenly you had a grip on him and now he found himself scanning drinks at some lame Gryffindor party. After several seconds of staring at bottles of booze he finally picks one and pours himself a cup. “You are terribly lost, brother.” Tom rolls his eyes as Mattheo’s voice rings in his ears. “I thought I would try your lifestyle for once. Shitty parties and even shittier drinks.” Tom turns to face his brother and fakes a smile. “Seriously, what brings you here?” Mattheo asks, lifting his chin in curiosity with his brother. Tom is about to remind his brother that nothing he does is any of his business but just then you come into view. Mattheo looks to check what had made his usually so snappy brother fall silent. “You’re never one to gawk, but hey I get why.” Mattheo states as he sees that his brother has his eyes set on you and Tom instantly meets his brother’s eyes with an agitated look. “I don’t gawk.” 

Mattheo snickers and Tom gives him a dark scowl that would have anyone running except for his brother. “Must be embarrassing.” Mattheo states with a taunting tone and Tom ignores him, but this doesn’t take away his brother’s amusement. “You’re just an ordinary mortal after all, capable of falling in love.” Tom stares at you laughing with your friends. Salazar, he hated it when his brother was right. He was falling in love with you and he had only spoken to you once. “Do you think I should go talk to her?” Mattheo is as surprised by the question itself as by the fact that his brother is actually asking him for advice. Mattheo looks at his drink. “You sure aren’t going to win her over by staring at her. Might get a stalking complaint.” Tom lets his head and eyes fall to the side to give his younger brother an annoyed glance, before actually walking over to you leaving a surprised Mattheo behind.

“Ah for once not roaming the halls as prefect.” Tom states with a direct voice and piercing eyes, but also a gentle and captivating smile. Though he still had that demeaning and chill vibe, the obvious attempt at starting a conversation was charming. “No prefect duties tonight. So if you plan to do anything twisted and mysterious tonight is your night, because I’ll be drinking.” You raise your nearly empty glass a little and meet his eyes with your playful ones. “As it happens I have taken a night off from doing twisted and mysterious things and I too will be drinking.” He raises his glass as well and quickly picks up on your nearly empty one. “I think we should get you a refill.” You’re surprised by his friendly and flirty behaviour, but go along with it, intrigued by the man. You spent some time talking at the table refilling your drinks, but your friends call you away and Tom himself becomes occupied with some Slytherins from families loyal to his father and eager to kiss ass. 

Being separated from you for a while has Tom’s eyes eagerly searching for you among the dancing students. When he spots you his stomach turns. Some guy is whispering in your ear and Tom has already made up his mind to interrupt whatever is going on when you are led outside by this guy. “Dean, where are you taking me?” You laugh, slightly tipsy as Dean gives you a playful smile and continues to lead you away from the party. Tom is in quick pursuit of the two of you and overhears your giggling. Finally outside Dean pulls you against him with one hard tug. “I thought we could use a moment to ourselves.” Dean whispers eyes seductively moving to your lips. “You think?” You giggle, teasing the guy as his nose brushes yours.

Tom was raging on the inside, boiling with disgust for what was happening. As his brother had said Tom's fascination with you had proven that he was capable of love but this didn’t mean that you or anyone for that matter was capable of loving him, Voldemort’s firstborn. A crippling sadness squeezes his heart and grips at his lungs. Meanwhile you feel unhappy with the situation as well. Curiosity had led you here, but in all fairness after your little chat with Tom you had hoped to find him again and see if he would take you for a moment alone. Yet Dean was here and Tom was not, and you weren’t going to let a good looking guy like Dean pass just because you were intrigued by the mysterious Tom Riddle who might or might not make a move. 

Dean kisses you and as soon as your lips meet you know that this isn’t what you want, but before you even have a chance to push him away he stiffens and falls to the floor with a hard tut. You immediately get to your knees to check on him. Your heart’s racing and only calms when you know he’s still breathing. It’s then that you notice someone standing next to the both of you, leaning slightly to observe the paralysed guy on the ground. Your eyes move to see that it’s Tom and you look back at Dean, back to Tom and back to Dean. It only takes you a few seconds to accuse Tom. “Did you hex him?” You get up and look sternly at a very calm looking Tom. “You’re awfully quick to draw conclusions and accuse me of hexing someone… but yes I did.” Your mouth drops and you don’t know if you should yell, run or get your wand, but Tom’s gentle tone convinces you to stay calm. 

“You shouldn’t be kissing him.” Tom states like he knows something you don’t. Your eyebrows knit together. “Why not?” You demand with a serious tone, like you were expecting a reasonable explanation from Tom. “Because I don’t like it.” Your lips part but no sound comes, since you are absolutely speechless. Tom stares at the guy on the floor with uninterested eyes while casually shoving his hands in his pockets. “Were you jealous?” You suddenly ask, not really believing it possible but also finding no other explanation for the situation. There’s a silence as Tom meets your eyes. You drown in his eyes and feel drawn to him. “Yes, you could call it that.” At those words you stop drowning and stare at him instead. Tom snorts softly, unable to hide his amusement with your baffled expression. He calmly steps over Dean's paralyzed body to stand before you, barely an inch between you two. Your heart is racing, but for some reason your mind and body go numb. A smirk tugs on Tom’s lips, but his eyes show a sadness that you cannot place.

“Good night, miss (l/n).” Tom says with a low voice, before placing a soft and endearing kiss on your cheek. As the sound of his steps fade into the distant hallways your fingers gently brush the cheek that had just received a kiss. 

In his room Tom sighs deeply as he loosens his tie. He found it so annoying but he had to admit that in a way you had outsmarted him again, because instead of revenge all he wanted was you. 

Word count: 2443

Thanks for reading and know that feedback is always welcome!

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part Two

Welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books. 

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Disclaimer for all readers of this series: 

I’m going to sound very confident in my posts where I work under the assumption I’m a better writer than JKR; because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You’re simply witnessing the culmination of over two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn’t just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

I’m not a perfect writer. No one is. I’m not a talented writer either. I’m experienced and skilled through years of study and practice.

I don’t care about J.K. Rowling. At all.

If you’re triggered by the concept and fact that JKR is a terrible crafter of writing, then you might want to take a step back and self reflect on that personal issue.

I still very much love and adore Harry Potter; you’re still allowed to love Harry Potter.

This is not a series to bitch or bash. This isn’t a shitpost. This isn’t an attack on JKR, no matter the disgusting bullshit she spews forth on Twitter. However, my hope is people awaken to the fact that JKR isn’t the goddess of writing we’ve all been led to believe.

This is a place of study and learning, where the purpose is to help students gain critical thinking skills and writing analysis tools to become better in their craft.

And, sorry, one more disclaimer for this specific post: 

Fanfiction is written for fun and is posted for free. I put most of my effort into my main fanfic, Terrible, But Great. (Yes, I intend to update Moon Rite soon, too) However, I also have two fanfics that are cowritten with another author; thus, the style of Shall I Stay and Badger Prey are understandably different. I spend three to four times the hours to edit a chapter versus drafting it. My process for fanfiction: I draft. I do one expansion edit. I do one proofread edit. I post.

However, if I were to publish a novel where people are expected to drop money on said book, my work flow would be vastly more extensive. To be clear, I’d do all of the following myself. I would not outsource. My process for published novels: I would draft. I would do three to four expansion edits. I would do two to three cutting edits. I would do three proofread edits. 

See the difference?

Because I don’t go through a cutting edit for my fanfiction, I’ll often come back later and see things I think are weak. I’m constantly seeing where I can tighten my work. There’s always room for improvement.

Remember: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a paperback book that costs $10. My fanfics are free. If I, someone who writes for free and puts what she considers the bare minimum of effort into them, have a higher standard in the quality of my writing than a paid traditionally published novelist, there’s a problem here. 

All right, with that nonsense out of the way, buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Let’s begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we’re going to discuss these five pages from HP5 and dissect one paragraph and a line from page 731. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

(My favorite book in the series, btw. I fucking love fifth year the most. JKR did a damn good job with Umbridge.)

Since a certain anon lacked the skill to comprehend the difference between too much dialogue and stories driven by a high saturation of dialogue, let's go into further depth about dialogue.

What did I mean last week when I said: "Too much fucking dialogue!"

Today’s lesson will focus on the overall issue in JKR’s dialogue and in the prose surrounding those dialogue lines.

And since, apparently, I “lack the self awareness” to know most of my fics are “oversaturated with dialogue,” I’m going to use weaker examples of my own writing. Chapter 24 of TBG is heavily driven by dialogue with twenty-one named characters to juggle, something that's very difficult for me to manage. Though the chapter is lovely, I do feel it's some of my weaker work. In the end, I just didn’t have the energy to edit it a second time nor go through cutting edit.

Here are three different pages (some connected, some not) from Chapter 24 of Terrible, But Great. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

You can already see the difference, I'm sure.

So, what’s the difference between a scene that has 'too much fucking dialogue' versus a scene that is highly saturated with dialogue?

Because there is one.

Let's set the scene for HP5. In the middle of an OWL exam, Harry received a vision from Voldemort, showing him that Sirius has been captured. He's being tortured to get something from a shelf, but Sirius refuses. Harry believes the vision is real. He tells Ron and Hermione, then asks for their advice on how to rescue Sirius. Ron and Hermione are both like, pardon, wtf, sir? (As they should be.)

We have five pages of this fight between them. These five pages are mostly dialogue with very little else surrounding it.

Also, note the final page where it has the worst sins of adverb usage. That page is what triggered me to begin writing this series in the first place, btw.

There's too much dialogue here. There's no description. I'm being told stuff, but I'm not being shown anything. There are no emotional anchors to Harry either. The more I reread this scene, the more I realized what was wrong.

There’s an emotional disconnect from Harry in the prose.

Do not misunderstand me: it is NOT to say that Harry isn’t emotional here. It's that the prose doesn’t grip me, the reader, by the chest and twist my heart with his overwhelming emotions. The prose doesn't prove anything, doesn't show me anything. This is an intense, terrifying moment for Harry. It should feel visceral. It should feel tangible. I should be able to taste his fear.

We also don’t get too much information about the emotional states of Ron and Hermione. We have hints, of course. But we can’t feel them. The emotions of the scene are dampened, muffled, dull even.

With an untrained eye, you might disagree. It's okay. You'll see what I mean soon.

Page 731 exact quote:

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven...He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there....He's torturing him....Says he'll end by killing him..." Harry found his voice shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.

(Btw, punctuation issue: you do not use an ellipsis and a period together and there should be a space after the ellipsis.)

This is the only instance in the five pages where we get any information about Harry's physical state.

And it's written in such a weak 'telling' instead of 'showing' way, too.

How and where was his voice shaking? How are his knees shaking? Are they knocking together in a weird way that's kind of physically improbable? Or was it actually his legs were shaking? Isn't he leaning against the door? If his weight was resting against the door, then there'd be less shaking in his knees or legs because his knees would be locked to brace his body against the door. His arms and hands would be shaking, though.

How does Harry master himself? What does that look like? Slow breaths? Running a hand through his hair? Rubbing his face and eyes? How is Harry mastering himself? Is it mentally? Then, where are those mastering thoughts? What are they and why do those thoughts in particular help Harry 'master' himself?

What's Harry's tone as he talking about Voldemort threatening to kill Sirius? How is Harry feeling about this? Give me MORE!

The dialogue is presented to the reader in a bland, empty fashion. Harry is relating something to Ron and Hermione. I could switch the dialogue out with anything and it'd still make sense.

There is little surrounding the dialogue to anchor it.

So, let's rewrite this, shall we?

"I dunno how," said Harry, letting out a shaky breath. His hands clenched into fists against the door of the classroom. "But I know where—they're in a room in the Department of Mysteries that's filled with rows of shelves holding these... weird little glass balls. They're in row ninety-seven. Voldemort, he's—" Harry's voice broke. His breath caught in his throat. The memory of the vision returned full force into his mind, the image of Sirius on the floor at Voldemort's feet stark in his mind. He ducked his chin; his chest inhaled in a desperate breath and the edges of his eyes burned. He's torturing Sirius—I can't just wait around. I can't lose him. Harry looked up at Ron, whose face had grown pale, while Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The strength in Harry's legs weakened. "He needs Sirius to get whatever it is he wants and he's—" Harry sucked in a gasp, his voice trembling like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm. "—he's torturing Sirius... says he'll kill him in the end." His knees buckled. Harry stumbled to the nearest desk; Ron reached out with a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and silent gratitude filled Harry's heart. With shaky arms, Harry lifted himself onto the desk to sit and twisted around to face Ron and Hermione. He licked his dry lips, rubbed his eyes with a hand, and took slow, deep breaths to master his fraying emotions.

The original canon text has 57 words of dialogue with a total of 83 words.

My rewritten version uses 56 words of dialogue with a total of 247 words.

I'm going to drill this concept into your heads, my lovely students: this is what I mean when I keep saying JKR's writing is both bloated and underwritten.

I only rewrote a single paragraph and its following line. The five pages I've provided are filled with this kind of empty dialogue.

So, what have I done here? Can you see the difference? Can you feel the difference?

Let's analyze what I focused on in this scene to show Harry's body language and his thoughts. I upped the physical effects on Harry's body. His fear causes his voice to break in the middle of explaining what's going on. He's terrified of losing Sirius, the only father figure he's ever known. Voldemort might take another parental figure from him. 

And now the prose reflects these feelings, not just in his thoughts, but also in how he speaks and reacts to what is around him. He is not just speaking at the reader.

Harry exists in his world. 

And you can feel it.

When he stumbles to the desk, Ron is there for him. Hermione reacting could also be added here. There is a lot that can be added to this scene, if one wanted to expand this further. 

Yes, what I've done has increased the word count, yet it strengthens this short moment—and I'd do this for the entire scene.

What I did to the scene is merely one version of its potential. It could be rewritten in a multitude of ways and go in various directions. I spent 10mins to 20mins on it. I haven't edited it or refined it.

Can you finally see what I mean now?

If you compare the highlighted pages of HP5 to the highlighted pages of Chp 24 of TBG, you can visually see the difference in the density of the dialogue. JKR is the one whose writing is oversaturated with dialogue. My writing will always be highly saturated with dialogue because my stories are character driven. I prefer stories like that. But I also need the dialogue to be interesting and engaging, where the character feels alive in their world.

When I say there's too much dialogue, this scene is such a good example of this because Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all over the place in their interactions with each other. Yes, you want your characters to sound realistic, but you're also the author curating an experience for the reader.

There's a balancing tightrope act between having realistic dialogue and unnecessary dialogue.

There's a thin line between showing too much and telling too little.

Lastly, if I were to improve the overall scene, I would center the focus on Harry's desperation to rescue Sirius. As Ron and Hermione try to talk him out of it, where Hermione delivers that iconic line of 'you have a people saving thing,' I'd have Harry explode with something like this:

"You don't know what's it like! You both have your parents—I-I don't... You'd feel the same as me if it were either of your parents being tortured by Voldemort, yeah? I can't lose him—I can't lose Sirius."

I'm not bothering with description around it right now. I just wanted to give the baseline dialogue to show you the theme I'd carry through this scene. It's all about Sirius. It's all about the fear of losing him. It's about showing the emotion of the character and making the reader feel that deeply.

And that's what matters the most.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part Two in this series. We have discussed fives pages in JKR's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The pages in question are 731 - 735 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[abouttofillhisshoes]

ok so now that I’ve traumatised everyone I’m requesting 22 for mpind matty!!

I’m going to sleep let’s hope I don’t dream of ginger roots shaped like butt plugs because!! that would be horrible!! anyways mwah <3

-legend anon🩵

this is sooo old i hope u still wanna see it!! don't remind me of the figging thing im positively gagging and not in a good way. Anyways onto the actually blurb length blurb

22. "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."

wc: like 1k?? not much, that's for sure

content warnings: not really smut but also kinda, use of the word juxtaposition (soz guys), marking, exhibitionism, sub!Matty, teasing, jealous girlie, typical MPIND Matty cockiness

You're overreacting, you know you are. It's not that serious.

But it is.

Matty stands there, surrounded by people, all of them listening to him telling a story, hands moving erratically to emphasize his words, pausing to let people laugh at his crude humour every few seconds, most of them too drunk to even realise what he was talking about.

That wouldn't be an issue, not normally. The girl next to him is the source of your feeling of unease, hanging onto his every word and getting a bit closer with every giggle, touching his arm while batting her eyelashes, looking up at him sweetly. Something inside of you stirs at the scene, and your legs carry you across the room in direction of Matty, not stopping to think for just a second.

Pushing your way through the circle of people surrounding him, muttering quiet excuses as you walk up to the center where he stood, wrapping an arm around his waist. Matty looks at you, and you take the opportunity to kiss him, right in front of everyone. The girl that was coming onto him visibly rolls her eyes, taking a small step back and turning her attention to her drink, downing it.

A smug smile spreads onto your face as he finishes up his story rather quickly, leaving out key details as you impatiently tug on his shirt, urging him to come with you. Excusing himself, he follows you keenly, knowing exactly what got you like this.

The sound of his back hitting the closed bathroom door is loud, the sounds of his slightly tipsy giggles only making you more aggressive, feeling him up as his hands settle on your waist.

"What do you think you're doing, letting her touch you like that?" you voice is harsh as your nails ghost over his neck, tracing down the hollow of his throat.

"Jealous, are we? Didnt take you for the possessive type." Matty's grin is teasing, and he purposely throws his head back, exposing more skin to you.

"Don't act coy, its pissing me off."

"I only have eyes for you, you know that." he puntucates his sentence with a hand on your chest, softly touching your tits over your top. His movements are measured, fluid, and driving you insane.

"She doesn't know that." you hiss, mouthing at the skin of his neck, nipping and biting it. Matty lets out a satisfied sigh, leaning into the familiar sensation. Your hands find his hair, tugging it back in that way you know he loves, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

"Show her who I belong to then, mark me yours." the way he speaks is low, challenging, almost mocking you for your reaction. You shoot him an annoyed look, his smirk only spurring you on. Your teeth graze over his throat, leaving deep purple hickeys all over his neck, no area remaining untouched.

His strained sounds as you get more and more aggressive make you smile, barely giving him time to breathe between hot kisses full of teeth and tongue, directly followed by those same lips back on his skin sucking dark marks into the skin.

The bright light of the bathroom perfectly illuminates your work, the contrast of the hickeys against his pale skin make your breathing get a bit more shallow than usual, a change that doesn't go unnoticed by Matty.

"Enjoying the view?" he sniggers, cocking his head at you. The expression on your face is one he knows and loves all too well. One of lust. Passion. Adoration.

"Cocky." you mumble, trailing your fingers over his collarbones, pressing down lightly, making him hiss in pain, a filthy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Wanna show me off then, have them all see what you did to me?"

"Don't act like that's only what I want," you pull at his almost fully unbuttoned shirt, toying with the loose buttons. "We both know how much you love belonging to me." Matty goes quiet, his rapid blinking telling you everything you need to know.

"Hm. I need you to answer me, love." you can practically see him light up at the use of the pet name you use sparsely, his eyes soft as he stares into yours, lips parted slightly.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" You taunt, letting your hands cup his face in a sweet manner, a delicious juxtaposition to the condescending way you're speaks to him. Matty takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It's rare that Matty gets even the smallest bit shy, but fuck, do you relish in it when it happens.

"I want people to see me, see how you own me." he smiles down at you, his hands gripping tighter onto your waist, pressing your body flush against his. The soft rumble of his voice goes straight to your core, and you clear your throat, much to Matty's amusement.

"I'm yours." he adds, a delicate finger running over your bottom lip, smudging your stick lipgloss. His nails are chipped with purple nail polish, matching his belt perfectly. His fashion sense is one of the things you love about him, not matter how 'odd' or 'girly' other people find it.

"You're mine." you speak softly, the kiss following mirrors the tenderness between the two of you, your lips moving against each other with devotion, hungrily drinking in each others reactions as they came, echoing off the tacky blue tiles of the bathroom wall.

Matty is proud, grinning wildly as you exit the bathroom, his shirt completely unbuttoned, his jeans so low waisted in was bordering on obscene. The looks the two of you got were mixed.

Some people raked their eyes up and down his body, gaze flicking between you and him before it finally clicked, their head quickly turning away from your direction.

George sees you as well, groaning as he spots the obviously fresh hickeys from across the kitchen counter, clutching the liquor bottle in his left hand. Handing you a mystery drink, he says a few words into your ear.

"Do you have to do that here? I dont want to think about you and him getting it on." George visibly shudders at the thought, shaking is head as if to get the mental image out of it.

"Soz mate, but this is payback for having to listen to your relentless shagging on Halloween." A party Matty had thrown months back for Halloween had led to George hooking up with a girl from your form, the walls proven paper thin as everyone had heard everything. You cringe at the memory, the sight of a few hickeys paling in comparison the the torture you had to endure that night.

George rolls his eyes just in time for Matty to pull you away, wrapping a tattooed arm around your waist, playing with the mesh of your his top.

"Alright?" he asks, pressing an endearing kiss to the corner of your mouth, the smell of wine filling your senses. You nod, intertwining your fingers as the two of you wade through the crowd, and you spot the girl from earlier.

Your body moves faster than your head, and you grab Matty's lower back, turning him to face you. You can feel the girl's eyes on you as you kissing him messily, taking his lower lip between your teeth as he gasps into your mouth.

Her footsteps are aggressive as she walks away, muttering under her breath. You smile against Matty's lips, content with yourself. Finally, you let go of him, your hands lingering on his chest as you trace what you left behind, a hazy feeling clouding your mind.

"Got what you wanted?" his tone is provoking as brown eyes find yours, face flushing a gentle shade of pink. The music is muted as everything blurs around you, the only thing worthy of your attention being the person standing right in front of you.

"You know 'm not done yet." you lean in to him, bringing your lips up to his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"Far from it, actually. I'm going to show you just how much you need me, no matter how convincing your little display of confidence might me, hm?" his breath hitches at your words, his eyes darting around the room at the dozens of people surrounding you, blissfully unaware of the filthy things you're painting his fantasies with, scenes playing out behind his eyes like a film.

"Meet me outside in five minutes. Say goodbye to your little friend for me, yeah?" with that, you leave him standing there, breathing unsteady and knees weak, threatening to buckle under him.

It doesn't take long before you have him shoved up against the hood of some random car, the darkness of the moonless night concealing you. Matty's moans are like music to your ears, your lips against his getting harsher as seconds pass, feeling for like hours.

"Please, take me home. I need you so badly, please darling, i'll be so, so good for you-" you cut him off his a finger pressed to his pretty pink lips. He wants you, he yearns for you. The way his back arches forward at even the slightest tells you everything you need to know.

Who are you to deny him?

[illuminatedferret]

One-Word Ficlet Prompt #6: Sick

Word Count: 593

Back to hualian... and writing ficlets that don't include their prompt

-

Xie Lian’s whole body ached as he woke up.

And not in a good way. His limbs were leaden and sore, aching not like a good day of exercise or a few rounds in the sheets, but rather like an old friend- unseen for years but once a bosom companion. Yes, this was...

He groaned. The pillow beneath him shifted, and reluctantly, he peeled his eyes open.

“Are you alright, gege?” Hua Cheng murmured. It was his chest Xie Lian rested his head upon, and he shifted one arm to draw his fingers through Xie Lian’s loose hair. The cool touch was soothing, but he resisted the temptation to fall back asleep.

“...San Lang, I...” he didn’t really want to say it. After years together, he knew that he should, but this was the first time it had happened since they came together. Thankfully, the years had only honed his husband’s eye for detail, because he quickly caught on to the issue himself.

“Gege, you don’t sound so good,” he said with kind concern. Gentle fingers brushed the scrap god’s cheek, prompting him to raise his aching head high enough that a cool hand could press upon his forehead. Hua Cheng made a soft sound, and cupped his cheek. “You’re warm, too. How are you feeling?”

“...Not great,” Xie Lian admitted, knowing he couldn’t hide it. It was a strange feeling- centuries alone had accustomed him to gritting his teeth silently and riding his illnesses out in isolation, but though the instinct reared its head now, years of love and support from this very man had softened him. The foundation of his perseverance had been dug up, broken apart until the urge to whine and complain reemerged.

He’d been spoiled.

Hua Cheng hummed, petting along his back slowly. Xie Lian couldn’t help but resent the current state of his body- his husband was laid out before him deliciously, hair tousled, face relaxed, and even his eyepatch missing, letting Xie Lian see the entirety of his beauty. But all his eyes wanted to do was close.

How unfair...

What was even more unfair was how Hua Cheng began to maneuver Xie Lian off of him, laying him upon the bed instead.

“San Lang,” he honest-to-god whined. He’d been so comfortable! Hua Cheng was so nice and cool...

“Oh, gege,” Hua Cheng said. As he laid his husband down, he wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and squeezed lightly. It was a welcome attack upon Xie Lian’s sore neck, and he groaned in appreciation. “I’ll be right back. Just let me get some things for you. Perhaps later we can go to Paradise Manor for a nice bath, hm?”

Oh, a bath in Paradise Manor’s bathing pool sounded incredible... reluctantly, Xie Lian hummed his assent. “Come back soon, San Lang,” he mumbled, already losing the fight to stay awake.

A cool pair of lips pressed to his temple.

“I will. I’m just getting some things gege needs.”

Xie Lian, now half-asleep, wasn’t truly present anymore. That’s why he said, “no.”

“No?”

“I don’t need it,” he slurred. “I just... need San Lang...”

His voice dropped, as did his consciousness. So he had no way of seeing the surprised, pleased look on his husband’s face, nor the tender smile he wore next. Neither did he feel the soft brush of cool fingers against his cheek, or a second kiss to his temple.

“Not this time, Your Highness,” the ghost king whispered to his slumbering god. “Rest. I’ll be back before you know it.”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Bound to Break Boundaries

HUSK X READER

Summary: Y/N is the Hotel's desk clerk but in reality the unofficaly therapy friend. But even therapy friends need therapy so what happens when Y/N gets fed up?

Warnings: Mentions of therapy and alcohol. Rating-PG

For the amazing @gxstiess

Requests Open - See Masterlist for Details

In the heart of Hell, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a beacon of hope for the damned. Within its eccentric and chaotic walls, there was one individual everyone turned to when their sins and sorrows weighed too heavily: Y/N, the hotel's front desk clerk but in reality the unofficial therapist. Her room, cluttered with mismatched furniture and flickering candles, was a sanctuary where demons came to unload their burdens.

Every day, Y/N listened to the rants of the hotel's inhabitants. The hotel's ragtag group of residents had come to see her as a beacon of calm and understanding amidst their endless turmoil. Every day, demons and lost souls would seek her out, eager to unload their problems and frustrations. Whether it was Angel Dust's relentless complaints about his latest escapades or Alastor's cryptic musings, Y/N listened with unwavering patience, offering advice and a compassionate ear.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the weight of everyone else's problems began to take its toll on Y/N. She was always there for them, always ready to help, but no one ever seemed to notice when she was struggling. The endless cycle of listening and advising started to wear her down, chipping away at her own sense of well-being. A day will typically contain the following: 

Angel Dust comes bursting into the room, dramatically throwing himself onto a couch. "Y/N! You would not believe the day I've had! That slimeball Valentino tried to mess with one of my gigs again. Ugh, he just can't leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry to hear that, Angel. What happened this time?"

"He sent one of his goons to 'remind' me who I belong to. Can you believe that? I told him where he could stick his reminders, but it's getting exhausting."

"I know it's tough dealing with him. Have you thought about what boundaries you can set or how you can stay out of his way more?"

"Boundaries? In Hell? Ha! You're a real optimist, Y/N."

Or something like this: 

"Y/N, I'm really struggling to keep everyone's spirits up. I just want to help everyone find a better path, but sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough. Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Charlie cries into one of the soft pillows Y/N keeps on the “therpay” couch. 

"Charlie, you have such a big heart and you're doing your best. It's natural to feel overwhelmed sometimes, especially with a task as monumental as this."

"Thanks, Y/N. It's just hard to keep going when it feels like we're making so little progress."

"Small steps can lead to big changes. Don't lose hope."

Or like this: 

“Y/N, I can't stand it anymore! Alastor is driving me up the wall with his constant meddling. How am I supposed to keep things under control with him always undermining me?"

"That sounds really difficult, Vaggie. Have you tried talking to him directly about how you feel?"

"I have, but he just laughs it off or turns it into some twisted joke. It's infuriating!” 

"Mybe we can come up with a different strategy together. You shouldn’t have to handle it alone."

One evening, as the sky burned a deeper crimson and the hotel hummed with restless energy, Y/N found herself overwhelmed. Vaggie had stormed into her room, venting about Charlie's latest overly optimistic scheme. Before she could even catch her breath, Niffty appeared, anxiously rambling about a mess she couldn’t clean up. When Angel Dust burst in, dramatically recounting another altercation, Y/N felt her patience snap.

“I can’t take this anymore!” she finally exclaimed, her voice shaking. “I’m not a bottomless pit for everyone’s problems. I need a break!”

There had always been one person in the hotel who never seemed to darken Y/N’s doorstep or in this case, therapy couch. Husk tended to keep to himself, serving also as a pseudo therapist for the more alcholically inclined patrons of the Hotel. Maybe he could offer some advice, because he never seemed to tire of other’s issues at least that s how it seemed to Y/N. 

"I told you, kid, I ain't interested in your therapy sessions. But if you must know, the bar's been low on stock, and running this joint is a pain in the tail. Happy?"

"I understand, Husk. Running the bar is a lot of responsibility, and it sounds like you're dealing with a lot of stress."

"Shut up with the therapy crap. Just gotta keep pouring the drinks and hope for the best."

With a sigh and a deep sip of a glass of some strange amber liquid she didn’t bother asking the name of, Y/N softly spoke up. 

"Husk, I don't know how much more of this I can take. Everyone just keeps unloading on me, and it feels like no one even notices that I might need a break too."

"You've been everyone's rock for so long, kid. It's okay to need a break yourself."

"But who am I supposed to talk to when I’m the one feeling down?"

He poured himself a drink and took a sip, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re a good kid, Y/N. Too good for this place sometimes. But even good people need to look after themselves. Otherwise, you’ll just end up as broken as the rest of us. I ain’t too good at the advice part but I am here to listen if you need it kid.”

The unexpected comfort in Husk’s words brought a lump to Y/N’s throat. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone to tell her it was okay to take care of herself. “Thanks, Husk. I really needed to hear that.”

He gave a gruff nod. “Anytime, kid. Now, drink up and take a damn break. Let someone else handle the chaos for a while.”

Y/N smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, and raised her glass. “To boundaries and breaks.”

Husk clinked his glass against hers. “To keeping our sanity, one drink at a time.”

As she took a sip, she felt the weight on her shoulders lighten, just a little. For tonight, at least, she could breathe easier, knowing she wasn’t alone in this hellish hotel. And maybe, just maybe, she could find the strength to set her own limits and reclaim a bit of peace amid the chaos.

[kiirotoao]

Season 3 rewatch notes

Wait a minute, I just realized that Mike and Will are the only ones in The Party who’ve canonically been dungeon masters. Idk what that means for them, but, yeah. Another exclusive detail of theirs

Oh, lord. Mike’s arm being torn off in the D&D game better not be a prophecy. If those s5 notes are accurate about Mike being seriously injured… I’m scared.

GOD I’ve never noticed how hard Will breathes in the rain scene. Poor baby he was so stunned 😭😭😭😭

The thing that I love most about Jonathan and Nancy is that they’ve been through the real shit. Arguments and hardship through the supernatural and the struggles of discrimination and privilege.

I love how Max is usually the one who speaks after Will. It’s like she’s the only one brave enough to answer after he says something profound or important. I need more of Max and Will’s friendship and them having well-thought out arguments I swear

Omg I love Erica’s little green star on her cheek. It’s so cute 😭🩷

After watching The Princess Bride, I am fangirling so much over Cary Elwes - it’s so crazy to me that he got him to play such a character! I wonder if they thought of him because of all the physical stunts lmao

As much as Karen isn’t in the know of much of anything in the supernatural story, I love how she’s a picture of raw strength in the Wheeler family, the true head of the household. She takes charge. Stops at nothing to help. Not even in the face of temptation. Go Karen.

DAMN I forgot that Billy dropped an f bomb! I thought that the closest that the show got was when Max got cut off in the hospital, but nope. There it was

Shit, I’m tearing up at that scene when El collapses into Mike’s arms because I know that that was real exhaustion. Poor Millie 🩷🩷🩷. She did such a phenomenal job there.

I LOVE whenever Joyce is angry this season. Now that’s how you demand. Straight to the point, justified in her worry, and cutting past any unnecessary bs while still including the cherry on top “please” or “good day” of politeness out of basic decency. I want to be her when I’m upset.

I’m always so blown away by Maya’s performance when she comes out to Steve. Straight (haha) through the heart, so good. And I always, always smile at Steve’s reaction. So in character, so accepting. No questioning if she’s being honest, just immediately questioning her type and believing that she’s into girls. So, so important.

Oh, no. Holly saw the trees moving in the woods. Thus far, she’s noticed the demogorgon coming out of the wall, and now this. She’s definitely a target next season.

When El tells Billy the memory of his mom, I teared up a little! Something about the way that El says, “you were happy” breaks me, dude. Millie and Dacre did so well.

Also, thinking in foresight of s4, Max’s letter is so heartbreaking. The Mind Flayer made a huge show of killing Billy slowly and painfully. I don’t blame her for being too horrified to move. It really wasn’t her fault. That was traumatic. Sadie did amazing there, too. Ouch.

I’m never getting over the helicopter lights being blue, yellow, and red. Were starboard and port always blue and red? And isn’t starboard supposed to be green? It’s all intentional, I’m telling you

I love how Max and Lucas are supposed to be “butchering” Never Ending Story but those two theater kids actually sound amazing. I just wish they harmonized 😆

Oh my gosh Jonathan did the Byers hold to Nancy 😭😭😭😭 I am not okay 😭😭 I never noticed that

Okay wait. This is kinda horrible. I feel bad for saying this. But y’know how Mike has a Will voice? Well I just noticed that Mike definitely does not have a soft voice for El. I swear, he’s always so loud around her like nothing’s different about her 😂😭 Any time he’s sweet with her he’s just like YEAH. COOL. and it’s kinda hilarious.

Jancy is WRECKING me this season wtf. Charlie and Natalia are so cute 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Oh my gosh David’s voice kinda breaks at “doze off.” Fuck.

Erica has blue, yellow, and pink balloons plus a rainbow drawing on her door. I now headcanon Erica as pansexual/panromantic, thank you.

AHHHGHH I can’t wait for the original version of Heroes to play next season over Byler kissing when everyone thinks that they might be dead but they’re just surviving in the Upside Down, clinging to each other and having the highest moment of their lives!!!!!!!

This has been my s3 thoughts for the 6-8th time watching? I forget? And I missed a number of moments because I got too absorbed so, oops. Anyway, I love Jancy, I love Jopper, I love the Scoops Troop, I love Suzie, I miss Alexi, Byler is endgame, and this season was way more fun than I remembered and it always makes me laugh. My list of favorite seasons has been shaken expertly.

[wayfayrr]

Better People to Leave on Read by Emei!

Been meaning to send this song to ya, if you find inspiration for a Link, then have fun! But if not, I wanted to send this to you anyway <3

I found so much inspo for this especially with all of the self aware asks today :3 (and your gameplay lmao) I ended up twisting the lyrics for it into sky berating you about what you're doing while playing the game <3 (also all these drabbles will be put on a masterlist soon dw I just haven't been in the mood to make a new one rn)

“God you’re just so obvious.”

“Huh what- I who said that, who else is in here with me? I - I should be alone in here.”

“Come on [name], I’m sorry for spooking you but really?”

“I-”

“I can’t take it just sitting here in silence while you go back to them again.”

Link he’s - he’s speaking to me. This, I have to be dreaming this, there’s no way this can be real, stuff like this simply doesn’t happen in real life. Maybe my brains finally giving up trying to convince me not to talk to my ex again so it’s making me hallucinate this. Yeah. Yeah, that makes much more sense than this being real. 

“Did you happen to forget the little details like texting your ‘boyfriend’ in the middle of spending time with me?”

Just respond to it, get it over with then go to bed. You clearly need a break [name]. 

“I was just messaging him because - because we were in a relationship and I - thought he cared for me.”

“He didn’t, not like I do my dove.”

“Not… like you do?”

This is a weird shift from just convincing me not to message my ex. Links moved up to lean against the glass of the screen now, side eyeing me and tracing hearts next to his mouth. 

“Mhm, like I do. They didn’t even stay past a couple of baseless threats. All too eager to leave you alone with a ‘cursed game’ to save their own skin. A coward really.”

Is he seriously implying that - he threatened my ex? Suddenly this doesn’t feel as much like fiction as it did seconds ago. His movements feel too real. Now that he’s back tracking too. 

“Not that I will ever hurt you my love. You’re mine all mine, I just - had to get them away from you first.”