#this was just the first scene that came out

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

Thinking about this scene again, because do y'all understand??

This scene is one-of-a-kind.

This scene will never happen again.

And we could never, I mean never, get a scene like this in the games.

Because what do you mean Sonic and Shadow sat quietly together and genuinely talked about their trauma?

There was none of the banter that the game versions typically share. None of the pettiness or trying to outdo one another. None of the preconceived notions of each other's personalities that barred their potential friendship.

This scene, and those that followed, was what made the movie dynamic between these two my favorite, tied only with Sonic Prime.

This scene is quiet, tranquil, surprisingly so; considering only moments before this they were fighting to the death and Sonic nearly beat Shadow to death with his bare hands, and Shadow had wanted him to do it.

This scene is haunted with grief. But it's also brimming with raw, honest emotion. Seeing that kind of mood in a scene with just these two is absolutely amazing.

However talkative our little Sonic Wachowski can be, it was Shadow who broke the silence here. Sonic was understandably shaken by his own behavior, but still. He told Shadow the one simple thing, the reason he hadn't killed him when he easily could've: "There are no winners with revenge." And then he fell silent.

The way they sat silently, each lost in their own memories and grief, either staring at the ground or the stars.

Shadow broke the silence. It had provided the opportunity for open, honest communication. He was already his own mess, having seen what Sonic was going through. He'd initially used it to justify his own behavior, saying that Sonic had no right to fault him for dealing with his pain the way he was, since Sonic was making the same choices. Except in the end, when it really mattered, Sonic did make the right choice. He set the example on accident.

Completely isolated from anything that could possibly interrupt them, in literal space, Shadow finally had the freedom to share his trauma with someone who understood. Someone who'd lost his own loved one, and was in the position of possibly losing another. Shadow didn't ask for answers at first. He simply shared the memory of sitting with Maria under the stars, like they were in the present. He expressed his side in a way that no longer tried to justify it. He just said it as it was.

"I've felt this pain for so long... it's all I know."

Sonic didn't immediately try to correct him. He didn't even say that there was a better way, in that moment. Instead, he empathized with him. He understood. He validated him, without justifying all the violent things Shadow had done.

"When I lost Longclaw, I felt the same way."

And with that, Shadow had it in stone that Sonic had been through the same thing. So he asked a simple, quiet, invisibly desperate question.

"Did your pain eventually go away?"

They still weren't looking at each other. They were sharing some of the deepest, most painful parts of themselves with one another. The words were vulnerable enough, to the point eye contact would've been too much. But the words were the most important part.

Sonic barely hesitated when he replied, "No." He wasn't going to pretend or lie. There was no reason to, no point, and all the walls he'd previously had up were torn down by the day's events. But he did have something to share. It had been likely around 12-13 years since Longclaw died, and even though Sonic had been so young when it happened, he had taken something away from it all. To the present day, he had continued to honor her memory by trying to make her proud in how he lived.

He expressed that in the beginning of the second movie. He timidly asked Tom if she'd be proud early in this same movie. It had never stopped being important to him.

Because he'd loved her. And that was the lesson he shared with Shadow, pulled straight from his own painful experiences. It wasn't even a "live the way she would've wanted" type of encouragement. It was "you loved her and she loved you. So focus on that. Hold onto that memory." He didn't give false reassurances by saying the pain would eventually fade, because he knew firsthand that it wouldn't. He simply gave him a different focus.

And Shadow listened. He took it silently, and just as he was processing the new perspective with a kind of wonder in his eyes, the sun rose.

This kind of honest, deep-seated conversation could've only happened in this universe, simply because Game!Sonic doesn't have a confirmed backstory and isn't really allowed to open up like that. This is where the lack of mandates on the SCU makes for beautiful opportunities like this.

This wasn't an exchange between rivals. This was a heart-to-heart between two young boys with similar trauma. Something that connected them and became the foundation for their friendship.

The idea of rivalry is barely addressed in this movie, and I love it. Whatever banter they share as they fight alongside each other later is all friendly and lighthearted, paired with smiles and excitement.

Shadow confessed that he'd felt like he had no choice in the things he'd done, but he phrased it in a way that made it clear that he knew now he'd been wrong.

Even so, Sonic— in classic fashion— extended an open hand to him and told him the simple, profound truth: "You always have a choice."

Better yet, even though they still had a mess to clean, neither of them would be facing it alone. And with their friendship finally established, they were able to move forward.

Again. This scene was perfect. The honesty, raw emotion, open communication, and shared past between these two, as opposed to their strained dynamic in other universes, will always stand out to me, and among many reasons will always be a reason I love these movies so deeply.

don't tag as ship or i'll sell your elbows to the dark web

[yanderenightmare]

The Four Seasons as Boyfriends

♡ TW: nsfw and fluff, really soft yandere, if yandere at all

♡ GN reader

Autumn is always half awake but never fully asleep. 

In the morning, he likes pairing coffee with a smoke out on the balcony—standing shirtless, black tattoos on his pale skin, despite the cold wind, watching the sun rise, sporting tousled hair and dark sunken eyes. 

He spends his days more or less the same way. There’s a briskness in the breeze and rain every other day, and all the leaves have turned shades of brown and orange, matting the ground in wet heaps, leaving the trees to look like skeletons. He likes going for short walks just before the sun goes down, when the sky is a warm pink and there ain’t a soul to be seen, and it feels like the two of you are the only people who’ve stayed behind before the apocalypse came.

At night, he’ll stay up late, watching Halloween movies with you in his arms, drinking something stronger than coffee, and smoking something different than cigarettes. He’ll never flinch when the gory scenes play. He’ll just run his thumb up and down your arm and hold you close with a low chuckle.

He’s a quiet guy who spends his time observing more than talking, a real philosopher, writing down things on this old typewriter he has, anything from crime novels to other horrific things. He’s somewhat grim that way—you think he might have been a mob boss in his previous life. 

But he’s got this dry-humored side as well, and a romantic one too—one that whispers awfully heart-gripping things to you in bed, gives you small gifts on all your anniversaries. Half-mast dark eyes without a smile on his lips, bringing your palm up for a kiss. 

Maybe it wasn’t a past life, you think, maybe he’s a vampire who’s been plenty of things. Come to think of it, you’ve only ever seen him outside when the sun has been safely hidden behind a veil of grey clouds. You don’t know, he just seems like he’s come from another age in the way he’ll treat every day like something to be enjoyed slowly, every moment together to be savored, and every detail of your face something to be not just remembered but cherished.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Megumi, Toji, Yuuta, Choso, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Tomioka, Genya ♡ HxH – Chrollo, Illumi, Feitan

Winter wants to spend all his days inside, wrapped up with you in bed like a bear in hibernation. You have to all but fight your way out of his hold in order to get up. 

He groans when you leave, whimpering at the cold, but eventually, he musters up enough willpower to follow you. He’ll have the duvet wrapped around him still, slippers padding towards the smell of breakfast. He’s still sleepy until he gets a good, warm cup of chocolate coffee. 

Clad in a warm blue sweater, pilled from wear, but cozy still, and a pair of baggy corduroys and fuzzy socks in all sorts of colors. 

He’s super reluctant about leaving the house—will literally find any excuse not to and do anything to avoid having to. He’ll stand in the mudroom with you like an obstinate brat as you dress him, putting on his scarf, hat, and gloves for him before pulling him into his jacket. 

He’s pouty at first, whining about his nose freezing, but after a while, he gets more than happy-go-lucky in the snow. Acting just like a dog, bounding about, tackling you down, and rolling around with you so that you’re both sure to catch a cold. 

You build a snowman together, make angels, and a little igloo where he’s deadset on the two of you sleeping tonight. Yeah, not likely, is all you think, knowing him and how the minute the two of you get home, he’s going to hunker down with all the duvets and blankets he can find and cry about how he’s never going outside again. 

And sure enough, the two of you trudged home, freezing cold and exhausted from all the frivolity, he in a whiny mood. You enter the shower together, and he just stands there, arms around you, draping you with his entire body under the water, defrosting. 

Like before, you end up doing things for him. Shampooing the sweat out of his hat-hair and soaping the rest of him up, then doing yourself the same way.

He’s just as clingy when you’re done. Dressed in fluffy robes, he’ll hold you close on his lap and put on a Christmas movie, something funny, something for children, The Grinch or Home Alone, or a romcom you’ve watched a thousand times before.

He’ll eat gingerbread men instead of dinner, drink one too many cups of eggnog, and tell you how he wants to curl up inside your heart where it's nice and toasty and stay there forever—meanwhile, his hand explores your naked body under your robe.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Toaya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Hinata, Tanaka, Kuro, Lev, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma, Zenitsu ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Spring is an early bird. Big breakfast spreads every day, wild flowers on the table in a hand-painted coffee mug, toasted bread with a dozen types of spreads, sliced meat, cheese, scrambled eggs, different jams, strawberry, peach, blueberry, apricot, raspberry, and all the currants.

He’s always got a big goofy smile on his face, wearing baggy dongeries and bright pastel-colored T-shirts—green, pink, yellow, and blue. His hair is fluffy, his eyes are round, and he’s always got a new pair of suede sneakers on.

He’d make a great dad, having the personality of a guy who’s a kindergarten teacher, the way he’s all about DIY easter decorations. He has his own craft cart, fully equipped with different colored paper, patterned tape, and glitter in all pretty colors.

He’s never been a very traditional guy, always raving about new ideas, dreams he’s had, things he’s seen when scrolling through Pinterest—you can't hope to keep up...

Your walls have all been painted—not like other walls—but as if the wallpaper were canvas. All your chairs have been bought at yard sales and other second-hand stores, refurbished by him, and hand-painted in different colors with cushions in different fabrics. Your coffee table is an old wine crate he found at a junkyard. All your blankets are knitted with spare yarn from all his other projects.

He also scrapbooks like no other, filling the pages with receipts and tickets he’s saved from your outings and vacations, and Polaroid pictures he’s taken of you, with dates and locations written along the white bottom.

Not to mention, how in the kitchen window, he’s hung the empty egg husks from breakfast, decorated with swirls and dots, with letters spelling Happy Easter!

He also makes you love letters—indulgent paragraphs with an overwhelming amount of love-bombing and hopes and dreams about your future together, always with the wording of a five-year-old child talking about their favorite type of food. 

Yeah, he’s no poet, but it’s the thought that counts, and so A for effort!

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji ♡ HQ – Hinata, Sugawara, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei, Umemiya

Summer is tan with tan lines from his swimming trunks. He’s all smiles and loud laughter, too careless for shades and sunscreen, and so you’re the one who’s left running after him when he sprints towards the water, like a parent, shouting at him to put on some protection.

He filled the cooler up with sodas and beers before you left home, and has brought along firelighters, making a bonfire on the sand for grilled fruits, vegetables, and meats, so that the two of you can spend the day.

His hair is sun-damaged and bleached with saltwater, but he makes it look good with his freckled face, looking as though he lives on the beach. He’ll go in the water several times, never tiring.

He likes to promenade in flip-flops like he’s on constant vacation,  always shirtless, letting his swim-trunks dry while the two of you walk along the shore as the sun gets low, giving you his sweater once the air gets a little chilly. Making plans for how you can fill the rest of the summer. 

He’s got never-ending ideas, you don’t think you’ll have time for it all—hiking, biking, camping, festivals, outdoor movies, picnics, farmers markets, berry picking, kite flying, ice cream, gardening, going diving, sailing, fishing, hot air balloons, parachuting, bungee jumping, skydiving—yeah, his ideas get progressively more extreme as he goes.

But at home, when he’s all drained out from the sun, he’s a quiet presence. Warm still, but calm, lining up pretty seashells and dried-up corals along all the windowsills, before the two of you hit the shower. Washing off salt and sweat, and about a bucket's worth of sand that remains between the cracks in the tiles.

He’ll leave kisses against your neck and shoulder, murmur things in a voice you don’t recognize from the day, but a grainier one belonging to the night, telling you all the dirty things he’s going to do to you now that the sun’s fully down.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Touya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji ♡ HQ – Hinata, Sugawara, Tanaka, Kuro, Lev, Bokuto, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira, Shido ♡ WB – Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[chronicallyonlinewriter]

SPOILERS:

Look, I get it. But I think context is everything, here.

Joel didn't stumble upon Ellie kissing a girl. He came home and found Ellie in her bedroom, door closed, partially undressed with a nineteen-year-old woman (when Ellie was only seventeen), the room full of weed smoke, with a home-done tattoo scratched all over her arm. Anyone that would have expected him to just say, "Huh," and glaze over that isn't really trying to look at the scene from the perspective of a very surprised and confused father, lol.

I think if Joel had discovered Ellie just like, kissing a girl that was closer to her age (and yes, Cat is only two years older, but when you're that young to start with, that's still quite a gap) that scene might have gone a little...smoother. But that's not what happened.

Does it excuse the casual homophobia? No. But I can also hardly blame the guy for being, in general, upset. He lashed out, and he lashed out about the wrong thing in the process, because he's a flawed human being.

My parents were born around the same time Joel was, and I was raised in a conservative and rural community - and yet, trust me when I say that Joel handled that situation a hell of a lot better than my parents did, when they first found out I wasn't straight.

In the end, Joel's love for Ellie still won out, even if it took him a while to get to a more accepting place about it.

Pedro Pascal for Flaunt Magazine

[quinnophile]

forgive me father, for I have sinned (teaser)

this fic has not yet been posted!

pairing. remmick x fem!reader

synopsis. in a coastal town riddled with grief and quiet unrest, Remmick, a shipwright with a haunted past, unexpectedly finds solace in the presence of a young woman suffocating under the weight of her father's iron grip - you. What begins as flirtation in flickering candlelight grows into something deeper; stolen moments at the docks, shared songs, and the burning desire to escape a life neither of them chose.

warnings. human + vampire Remmick, pwp, angst, pining, sacrilegious acts, hierophilia, indecent acts within the Lord's house, parental abuse, religious trauma, irish historical accuracy, virgin!reader, monster fucking smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, possible praise, possessiveness, biting, blood play?, dirty talk, dubcon, piv, inexperienced, ). this is set before and during the events of the film!

word count. 10k. + ( predicted )

author's note. this fic is in no way meant to sympathise with Remmick's character in the film. Ya girl is just horny for some Irish vampire. Other than that, I hope you will enjoy my first shot at smut!

there is no smut in this teaser, but plenty to come. these are just a few different selected scenes <3

The voice drifted out like smoke through a cracked window. He could see her now - no, you - half-shadowed in the soft lampglow outside the door, dancing between tables and grinning at the locals as you sang like you owned the very walls around you.

The pub throbbed with the sound of it; boots stomping in time, hands clapping, the chorus echoing back at you from drunk and sober mouths alike. Your voice had a rasp like old whiskey, but it soared, pure and strange and beautiful, like something holy in the middle of all that sin.

“Remmick?” Eoin nudged him. “You alright?”

He didn’t answer.

You bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “So? Any other tunes hiding in that haunted soul of yours?”

He gave a sly smirk. “You mean aside from the ones I hum while sobbing over gravestones and broken dreams?”

You gasped dramatically. “Christ alive, play something cheerful before I throw myself into the Liffey.”

With a chuckle, he struck a chord - a brighter one this time - and began to play a lively reel. His fingers danced along the strings, strumming a rhythm that skipped across the stones like sunlight on water.

You stood without warning, arms thrown wide, and began to twirl, barefoot now, having kicked your boots off without him noticing. Your laughter rang out like wind chimes as you spun around him, skirt flaring with every step.

Remmick watched, spellbound. Still playing, yes, but barely keeping time as you danced around him like the world didn’t hurt, like there were no bruises or pasts or sorrow or fathers.

“Oh, the summer time is coming,” you sang, your voice soaring again, this time more joyful. Less haunting. “And the trees are sweetly bloomin’…”

He joined in, picking up the melody, and the two of you sang into the wind; laughing between verses, forgetting the hour, the pain, the things unsaid.

For a little while, it was just joy, raw, and beautiful. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this happy. 

Then came the Sunday.

Rain clung to the air in a damp, stubborn mist, and the chapel smelled of old stone and wet wool. You were seated in the second pew, your hands folded in practiced piety, but your heart - as always - felt elsewhere.

Your father stood at the pulpit, stern and stony, preaching fire and forgiveness in equal measure. His voice echoed under the vaulted ceiling as he led the congregation in the “Our Father,” eyes closed, cadence sharp.

You exhaled and joined in, lips moving from memory. The words tasted strange in your mouth. Too clean.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…”

And then, warmth.

A presence slid into the pew beside you, unannounced and wholly impossible. A voice joined yours, a beat behind, low and lilting and full of mischief.

“…Hallowed be thy name…”

You opened one eye.

Remmick.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝… || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ flashbacks of Ellie’s birthdays and the party you and Joel did for her once, when the truth of Salt Lake City came out and you separated from Joel for months and when you two decided to make up.

warnings_ age gap (late 20s/joel’s canon age), wife!mom!reader, angst, fluff, fallacy references, canon divergence, mediocre almost SMUT mdni, implied unprotected sex, switch!joel, blue pill alert, no proofreading

Notes_ half of me was so horny for Joel and the other half crying because he’s dead

「 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 」

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 Pedro

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

A tiny pair of hands started to poke at Ellie’s face.

“Cerise, be careful,” you said as the toddler started giggling and babbling.

Joel had greeted her just ten minutes ago, and Ellie was still half asleep, closing her eyes and opening them again. Until she felt you and Cerise.

It was her birthday.

“What are you doing, furball?” Ellie asked, finally looking at a little Cerise who offered her a toothy smile as she threw herself on top of the teenager.

“She comes to tell you something,” you say, brushing Ellie’s hair. “Go on, Cerise…”

The toddler got shy, but with your encouragement, she started humming.

Cerise tried to sing Happy Birthday to Ellie. Not a single word was correctly pronounced, but Cerise sounded adorable, then you helped her a little with the song, and Ellie started chuckling.

“That was a remarkable performance, Cerise. Thank you,” Ellie tried to sound serious and shake the toddler’s hand, but she started cackling after Cerise started biting her cheek. “She’s biting me!”

“Cerise! That’s rude!” You yell at your daughter, trying to pull her away. Ellie starts squirming and laughing really loudly, and the sole scene was a funny sight to miss.

“Girls! Stop it!” you finally say, grabbing Cerise and pulling her into your arms. She has a malicious grin that made you realize she was being playful.

“Get dressed and come downstairs, please,” you tell Ellie, then you lean and bum your head against her. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She watched you and Cerise go with a big smile, feeling the love of having a family.

…

After making breakfast for your family, Joel presented the cake he had made for Ellie. It was simple, tasted just fine, and the girl loved it. They were leaving after all. Joel had planned a day out with her, marking the safest places where they could go and spend the day. Something about Ellie’s dream of going to space. You were okay with it, as long as they returned safely and before sunset.

Your player was on, ‘How Soon Is Now?’ was playing, and Cerise was playing with some baby blocks on the carpet of the living room.

The house looks alive. The warm light of the sun peeking through every window reminds you how lucky you are.

Soon you hear Cerise babbling, and you’re about to go to get her, but you hear Joel and Ellie. They were back…

“What’s all of this, Cerise?” Ellie asks from afar, and you smirk to yourself.

You grab the cake you baked yourself and make your way to the living room.

“Surprise!” The girl looks around with Cerise in her arms, and her eyes snap open, a big smile plastering on her face as he walks closer to see the cake.

It was rectangular, with white frosting decorating it, with blueberries and candles scattered.

“This is beautiful, y/n,” Ellie says, blowing out the candles for the first time.

Joel goes straight to hug you from behind and kiss your cheek, making you smile wider.

“Go for your friends. Tommy and Maria are already on their way…” You say to the girl. She nods, giving you a short hug, then adds she’s taking Cerise with her.

“Be careful with my baby!” Joel yells at the girl.

“Well, now let’s find a place for this cake,” you say.

“Now you are making me feel embarrassed of my cake, sugar” Joel interrupts, giving your ass a little quiet spank, making you jump startled. “Makes me feel a little like an asshole”

“Aww, don’t be too rough on yourself, baby,” you say, patting his cheek and earning an awestruck look from your husband. “Yours was great, tasted great, and made my breakfast great.”

His cheeks burn a little, you notice and think it’s adorable how an old ass like him could act so sweet and cute.

“And you decorated all by yourself?” Joel points out to the rest of the kitchen, living room, and backyard. All covered with handmade confetti and very few balloons, but all floating perfectly. A big happy birthday sign and space-themed posters.

“Well, Cerise helped me a little,” Joel returns from the kitchen after leaving the cake aside. He sees you moving some balloons around and appreciates your outfit: a black top, a skirt with boots, and a fitted cardigan that matched. Joel knew it was silly, but he loved the way you looked. The cleavage of the top was modest but evident and suited you very well.

“Looking hot and pretty, mama,” he says, making your cheeks burn as you meet his cheeky grin.

“You also look hot and pretty, cutie.”

“Really? And what are you gonna do about it?” He asks with defiance.

“I’m gonna sit on your face if you don’t shut up, Joel,” he starts cackling, then grabs your forearm and makes you collide with his chest.

“Is that a threat or a promise? Because I’m kinda craving a taste of your cunt” rolling your eyes, you smack his chest, with a smile.

“Need to keep your dick wet?”

“Always,” Joel answered proudly, making you chuckle.

“I’m estimating we have ten to fifteen minutes before Ellie arrives with the rest of the party,” you say, looking at the clock, only to then feel Joel lifting you and placing you on the kitchen counter.

“Just enough for me…” and then, he gives you the sloppiest and haziest kiss of your life. As well as the sloppiest and haziest fuck of your life.

“Think I’m in the mood for one of those blue pills…” Joel whispers in your ear as you start feeling his fingers going back and forth across your wet lips. You couldn’t recall the moment he lifted your skirt and dipped his hand under.

“Maybe tomorrow, handsome,” you say between moans. “Maria and Tommy are taking Cerise for a playdate with Benji”

Some months ago, Joel decided to try the blue pills for the first time. He didn’t need them, but it wasn’t a secret he couldn’t keep up as before. When you two were childless and living in the QZ of Boston, he could last at least two rounds.

And despite you objecting that he didn’t need to prove anything, Joel wanted to try them either way.

And who were you to deny him?

…

It was getting colder. Another birthday of Ellie and her cake was burnt by accident. You were about to close the kitchen window, but your hands were covered in dish soap. A second later, you heard Ellie cursing as she arrived home.

“Ellie, are you okay?” You ask, dropping the dishes into the sink and hurrying to get to the girl.

“I can’t fucking do this right now, y/n!” She yells, and you grow even more worried.

“What happened?” She turns halfway up the stairs and huffs.

“Your asshole husband! He lied to us all this time.” Your frown grows, and Ellie rolls her eyes. “He killed every goddamn person inside the Salt Lake City hospital”

Your heart beats rapidly, and your hands start feeling numb.

“I didn’t know…” You can only say, hearing Joel opening and then closing the door.

“Yeah? Well, I’m getting the remaining stuff I have here and then I’m the fuck out” Ellie yells exasperated, her face red out of anger.

“Ellie…” You try to stop her, worriedly.

“This is why I did well by living in the garage…” she says, going upstairs and disappearing.

You turn to look at Joel, and he sighs.

“Is it true? Did you kill them?” You ask nervously.

“I should’ve told ya…I know,” he sounds wounded, but you feel betrayed.

“You should have told me, Joel?” you ask with disbelief. “The moment Ellie and I woke up, you should’ve told us the truth.”

The house is covered in some dark and heavy silence. Your eyes feel wet, but you don’t cry, you barely look at Joel, whose eyes you see with sadness.

“I need time…” you say, sighing, Joel hurries to step in your way.

“Don’t leave me, alone” he convinces you, almost. “I know I’m wrong, but don’t go too…”

Ellie was leaving him. Would you?

“I won’t ever leave you alone, Joel,” you admit, crossing your arms, heading towards the stairs. “But I deserve time alone, no matter how much I love you”

Joel watched you go upstairs. His heart sank, and that was the first night he didn’t sleep again.

…

Things had changed a lot.

Joel had been alone in the house for months. You dropped Cerise off to see him each Saturday and sometimes even Sunday. He was allowed to visit the little girl at Rosalie and Rae’s house whenever he wanted, where you had been staying. Ellie built her place in the garage. And Joel constantly looked through the window to see if she was okay.

But he was edging more and more towards emptiness. His nightmares about Sarah, of you being sick, and many other of his traumas returned. Joel wasn’t being tolerant of your departure with the girls. He missed Ellie and his little bolter, Cerise.

You were awkward each time you bumped into him around town, when you dropped Cerise, you barely eyed him. Joel could feel the rejection creeping all over him whenever you appeared nearby. But deep inside, he could also feel a longing for him. You were more than just his wife.

It was a cloudy day when Joel had scheduled a patrol with Tommy. It would also help as a little therapy session; he knew.

Tommy constantly advised him to plan ahead for the day, you two talked about the whole issue. To choose the right words and accept that you had the right to be mad and confused at him.

Joel knew.

When the gates opened, he saw many people looking at the clinic in town. As if something had happened. A lot of vapor was coming out from the upper windows, but there were no signs of fire.

“What the hell happened now?” Asked Tommy, as someone had taken away his horse.

They walked closer to the crowd of people, and a woman was kind enough to give the pair of brothers answers.

“There was an accident at the clinic with the washer-sterilizer,” Joel and Tommy eyed each other.

“Are there any hurt people?” Tommy asks.

“Some nurses and…” The silence made them look at each other again, until the woman spoke again. “It was y/n… she opened the washer-sterilizer thinking it was working normally and it had accidentally leveled up in temperature. It was boiling…”

Joel handed his rifle to Tommy and started walking towards the clinic with desperate steps. He could hear his brother yelling at him to calm down, but he didn’t listen.

His tired legs dragged him in a second towards the clinic.

“Where is she, Kelly?” Joel asked the nurse that scheduled appointments. He knew the young woman, as she was a nurse like you.

“Mrs. Miller is stable,” Joel rolls his eyes and impatiently taps on the counter. Some people whisper as they pass by him.

“Ugh.. okay, she is in room 30C,” Joel thanked her and walked away. His heart pounding as his fear grew.

He knocked on the door, and your sweet voice allowed him to come in.

Joel entered the room and was greeted by you in a bed, half of your face, neck and hand bandaged. The nurses made you an improvised strapless top and you gave him a little smile.

“Hi, dear…” You greeted him and it made his heart flutter.

He gulped, looking very worried.

“Joel, I’m okay,” you soothe him, grabbing his hand. “The doctor said it won’t leave scars”

“How?… why?” He asks with a half-broken voice.

“The sterilizer was overheated… I opened it and the vapor burned my skin,” you explain.

A nurse enters and sees you and Joel expectantly.

“I’m her husband…” Joel says, the nurse shrugs.

“I know, Mr. Miller,” the woman answers, scribbling something in a notebook and then looks up. “Your wife is ready to go home. But she needs someone to take care of her”

Joel and you exchange looks.

“I’m taking care of her,” he says. Everyone knew you and him were no longer together, but didn’t know why.

“Joel-…”

“Please…” with a sigh, you nod at him and the nurse.

…

Later that night, Rosalie brought Cerise home with Joel, she talked a little with you and then left.

Ellie visited you before Joel, so she hadn’t come again.

Joel was cooking something downstairs, Cerise was sleeping and you were fresh out of the shower, which had been a dare with the burns.

Joel knocked on the door.

“Dinner is ready…” he announces but sees how invested you are in trying to put the bandages in their place.

He sighed and decided to take a better look.

The skin was red, pink, and wrinkled. Joel wanted to magically cure you, but of course, he couldn’t.

“Let me help…” You nod, knowing you were desperate to feel his touch.

The distance between you two had been killing you.

Joel sits beside you and starts taking care of your burns. His calloused fingers make you feel goosebumps. You are able to see his aging face. His greying curls and his warm eyes.

“I miss you so badly,” you blurt out between whimpers, rushing to wipe away the tears.

“I miss you every single fucking day” Joel looked shocked at your words, debating whether to hug you or respect the boundaries. “To the point where it hurts me more to miss you than what separated us in the first place.”

Joel remembers the night Ellie, you and him arrived in Jackson the first time. The three of you had a fight over who was taking Ellie to Salt Lake City. You cried on the stairs of the house that became home.

And now, he felt like it was happening all over again.

“Say something, Joel,” you urge him.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m guilty, I’m the one who caused all of this. I don’t know how to fix it,” he admits, and then steps closer. “But I know I miss you too. My life is incomplete without you and the girls.”

You sob harder, and Joel can’t take it anymore, he hugs you tightly.

You don’t fight back. You embrace him closer.

His fingers brush away your tears as he stares into your eyes, as if he could wander through your soul. His touch is warm, like it had always been. Strong grip but soft caresses for his wife. Joel was over the moon as you hadn’t squinted away from him.

Just like the first time he kissed you at the old apartment in the QZ of Boston, you could feel your heart beating loudly agains, thumping against your ribs. The way Joel eyed you with genuine affection, devotion, and lust was giving you away.

Your hand touches his fingers, caressing your cheek, you want to hold his hand.

As you lean closer, Joel grows nervous, even submissive. He didn’t want to ruin anything. He was listening to Gail; he needed to be genuine. Be vulnerable for you.

“You don’t have to “ his words are seized by your lips brushing his.

“But I want to.” You confidently replied before kissing him.

Your arms came to tangle around Joel’s neck. His hand on your healthy cheek was only attached to your chin.

“I love you…” Joel admits, and you smile.

“I love you too, Joel,” you say back.

A burst of happiness thumping through your chest, heart, and every inch of your body, and Joel’s.

…

Swiftly, you close the door of Ellie’s garage. You had helped her to decorate many things in the whole room, but knowing Ellie, it wasn’t a surprise that the place was already starting to look messy. Either clothes gathered everywhere, drawings and cassettes scattered on her desk.

She finishes putting on a pair of socks and sits awkwardly on the edge of her bed.

“So… What are you doing here?” She asks, watching you looking around with your arms closed. “Today is your girl’s night with Rosalie at the saloon.”

You sigh, nodding. One Friday per month, Tommy and Maria watched over Cerise while you and Rosalie had a free night. Although you and the toddler lived with her and Rae.

“Yeah, it’s just that…” Ellie watches you struggle to find the right words, so she frowns. “Joel and I decided to make up.”

The news slowly spread over the room as you reveal it to her. Ellie huffs in disbelief.

“Already? You didn’t even let it sink longer?” She was mad, even angry at you for leaving her side so fast. You completely understand her. Still, that doesn't make it simpler.

“Joel has done many bad things. He even hurt me in the past…” Your words come out with meaning as you step closer to her. “But he is a good person. He spent his whole life regretting not being able to save Sarah. And now, he’s done everything for me. And you and now Cerise as well…”

“He’s still a liar,” Ellie spits out with anger.

“Yes, he is a liar. But that lie he kept from us is the reason why I’m able to live in a place I can call home,” you admit with a sad smile. “That lie is the reason why I can enjoy raising my daughter, be with you, do what I love, and spent my days with the person that loves me and saved my life. Even if he’s a liar…”

Ellie only eyes you with disdain before feeling the anger suppress, only to be left out with a bittersweet confusing mix of emotions.

“I just can’t forgive him yet. I don’t feel it’s okay but-“

“Then don’t forgive him yet,” Ellie sighs exasperated, covering her face and feeling completely overwhelmed.

“How do I know if what I’m doing is the correct thing to do?” She asks, and you shrug.

“You don’t. You just do it and follow where the heart may lead” You offer her a kind smile and a pair of open arms. Ellie goes straight to hug you.

She needed comfort and ever since she met you, you had been the only person to be completely vulnerable with.

“Just because I forgave him sooner than you, doesn’t mean you won’t later on” she nodded, feeling her eyes growing glossy.

“And no matter what… we’re family, Ellie.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks. You just hugged her tighter.

…

[Late spring 2029]

Joel hands you a water flask, and you gladly accept it.

He eyes you and stares as you drink urgently, it had been two hours since the last break and being eight weeks pregnant didn’t make it any easier.

Joel sighs, enjoying the silence nature was offering. He looks up at the clear skies and notices summer is approaching, the sun starting to burn hotter.

And then, he looks at the skyline.

“Darlin’… look at that” He then points with his finger at the mountains.

“What?” You frown, confused until you see just directly under his finger.

At a still far distance, you see the town. You see home, Joel, and you just made it back to Jackson.

You throw yourself into your husband’s arms. Tears of happiness start to flow, and both of you start chuckling. Like neither of you could believe that it was over. That home was just a few miles away.

“Oh my god!” You squeal with excitement in his arms. Joel smiles wider, wrapping his arms around tightly.

His nose nudges the crook of your neck and lets out a relieved sigh. Joel once again knows that everything he’s been through since he met you was worth it. And he would repeat over and over again just to end up there, having a sense of security and love with you.

_____________________

ep 6 was so beautiful and sad at the same time😭

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭_ @just-mj-or-not @mmkkzz @hiroikegawa @nosebeers @glitterspark @annulmaelae @heartpatch @doodlebob-mp3 @ennvsco @isabella-rose-trastamara @chewie-bars @bypurple @umadirectioner @mrsbilicablog @yvonne-dump @hannah9921 @maystyles @minifresas @barnes70stark @bratgirlniq @onlyforyuto @person-005

[clarkeysbedchem]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

will lenney x reader

summary: two childhood best friends with unspoken feelings finally find their way together

warning: mature content (18+ only)

masterlist | main masterlist

You had always known Will, he was the boy in school who’s laugh bounced off the walls, the boy who you had been infatuated with since you were kids.

He was the one who never really paid attention to you until you waltzed into your science class hair freshly bleached and teeth free of braces.

But when he finally noticed you, he never overstepped any boundaries. Somehow, you just made sense together. The two misfits who sat in the back of the classroom, whispering nonsense and building inside jokes that spanned over years.

You bonded over your nerdy interests and undeniable love for Formula 1. Once you had gone to Uni, that shared love turned into the idea of making silly YouTube videos and helping each other edit your first videos.

All these life changing events unfolding in the cramped space of his Uni accommodation, the air thick with energy and promise.

Eventually the silly little YouTube channels you had made began to grow - thumbnails improving, ideas improving and friendships growing.

Every achievement or milestone was celebrated with you by each others sides. You made random appearances in his commentary videos, and he was always found in the background of your vlogs.

‘Power duo’ the fans would call you, dubbing you as ‘Platonic soulmates’.

You just laughed it off, even when your stomach fluttered whenever his hand brushed yours.

Then the flirting started. That line between friends and something more, slowly fading away but neither of you mentioned it too scared of what will happen if you do.

The off-camera moments, the lingering stares during late-night editing sessions, the sleepover where you’d wake up tangled in each other, that one night where a dare turned into a kiss that was never mentioned again.

Then Mia came into the picture and everything you and Will once shared; he now shared with her.

Will fell hard, you watched it happen in real time. One day he was laughing at your new video, leaning against your shoulder as he scrolled the comments. The next, he was talking about her; her hair, her laugh, how easy it was with her.

You told him you were happy for him.

You said it so often that the words didn’t even feel real as they left your tongue leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Eventually, the daily texts slowed, then stopped all together. The invites from your shared friends stopped. Suddenly you were watching his life from a screen, like the rest of the world, like you hadn’t even been there to begin with.

His fans noticed and blamed Mia which you hated because it wasn’t Mia’s fault – it was Wills.

Your friends would check up every once in a while to make sure you were still around and you were, just not for them.

And then, after five years of pretending he hadn’t once been your entire world, of doing everything in your power to get rid of any trace of him in your life - he showed up at your door.

He stood there drenched from the rain that hadn’t stopped all week, his hoodie clinging to him, like a scene straight out of a movie.

His eyes were sad flickering with hopeful as he stared at you. You didn’t ask any questions, you didn’t really need to, you just let him in.

“She’s gone,” he told you, pacing around your hallway, the rain dripping onto your hardwood floor, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

And just like that, the air between you snapped back to what it used to be buzzing with something unspoken. He stayed that night curled on your sofa in a hoodie you had stolen from his back in University, and it was like he never left.

He started showing up again.

Random texts updating you on his day at the office, random facetimes when he was away filming for his channel.

Then you started to appear on his social’s again, just the occasionsl Instagram story where he panned the camera a little too far and fans would spot your hand or the quite muffles of your laugh.

Then they spotted the extra pair of shoes, or the additional coffee cup in the corner of your vlogs and pieced it together.

You weren’t hiding anything, just not labeling it.

Everyone noticed.

Your friends would shoot each other looks when Will would pay for your drinks on nights out or take your part of the bill restaurant without an argument.

Then there was the not-so subtle brushes of his fingers against your arm during a conversation or him pulling you closer in a group photo. You would catch Freezy smirking, or Chris raising his eyebrows like he knew exactly what you were both dancing around.

Which brought you to where you were now.

At a rooftop bar in London, glittering with fairy lights and overpriced champagne celebrating Ethan’s 30th birthday. Everyone dressed to the nines, and you are no exception.

You wore that dress. The dress you had bought without evening thinking twice about it. The one you tried on and immediately thought of him. The way it clung to your curves like second skin, the light green satin glittering under the light with every step. You didn’t admit it, not even to yourself, but you only bought it so he could see it. Subconsciously hoping it would end up unraveled into a pool on his bedroom floor.

The music pulses through the floor, laughter swirled around you, drinks clinking in celebration. You could feel the burn of his eyes on you, goosebumps rippling up the bare skin of your tanned legs and arms. The shift in the air and the wave of heat travelinh down your spine made your brain melt into mush as you turned around spotting him across the room laughing at something Harry said.

But his eyes were focused on you, darkened with something you hadn’t seen before, like he hadn’t seen anyone else all night, like he was starved.

His eyes dragged down the length of your body, slow and lingering, drinking in every inch of you, and you let him. Your pulse raced, your skin prickling with want as your eyed locked. You didn’t smile, neither did he. It wasn’t that kind of look; it was the kind of look that said you know what this is.

You didn’t acknowledge his presence when he appeared at your side, but your body immediately melted into him as his hand fell flat on your hip when he laughed his way into your conversation with Talia and Faith. The two girls exchanged knowing smirks, but they didn’t dare say a word letting it unfold naturally.

By the end of the night, you could barely breathe.

You were practically vibrating in your seat as you sipped on your countless glasses of champagne. Your legs crossed over each other as you pushed back the ache burning in you as the the tension and unspoken weight of years and missed chances started to crash down. Every lingering look from him felt like a promise, and every touch a dare.

He found you alone for the first time that night, stood near the bar waiting for your final glass of alcohol, with the fairy lights shimmering above you.

“Come with me,” he murmured, sliding his hand in yours.

You didn’t ask any question, you didn’t care enough. You just followed him, letting your fingers tangle together as he lead you through the back hallway of the venue, past the coat check, past the quiet staff corridors, until he finds an empty room.

The door shuts behind you. And then there was a silence.

A heavy, charged silence.

“I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours, “All night. I couldn’t stop.”

Your voice caught in your throat, your words coming out more hesitant than intended, “You think I didn’t notice?”

He stepped closer, “You wore this on purpose.”

You didn’t deny it. You don’t need to. He already knows.

And then his hand is on your waist, and your back pressed flush agains the cold wall before you could let out your next breath. His mouth crashed into yours like a dam breaking, all teeth and passion, the past two decades of unspoken yearning finally dissipating.

You kissed him without hesitation, kissing him like you had never kissed anyone before. A kiss that was desperate, hungry, raw.

Your hands tangled into the curls at the base of his neck pulling slightly and his grip on your hips tightening in return as his lips moved to your neck, and you gasp his name like a prayer.

“Say it again,” he groaned.

“Will.”

Everything stops. His eyes found yours looking at you like you had just given him oxygen. Like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense to him,

“Will, I need you,” you whispered, fingers clumsily pulling at the buttons of his black linen shirt.

It was all heat and motion as his hands pushed your dress up your thighs, your finger palms flat on his toned chest like you needed something tangible to know this was actually happening. You were both half-drunk, fully gone, lost in each other like there’s nothing else. No cameras. No fans. No relationships. No years of holding back.

Only this.

Only him.

His hands brushed over your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress with practiced ease, until he was cupping the backs of them, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your back burning against the wall, your dress bunched around your waist.

A string of groans fell from his mouth vibrating against the skin of your necj as you rolled your hips against his, the contact sending sparks up your spine. Something snapped inside him, and there was nothing careful about the way he moved anymore. His hands tightened on your thighs tethering you to him like he was afraid you’ll slip through his fingers again, like he needs to memorise the way your body felt against his.

One hand fumbled with the strap of your dress, slipping it down your shoulder with agonising slowness, exposing your skin to the cool air. His mouth follows the trail, leaving kisses and bites along the outline of your collarbone, and down to the swell of your chest.

“Fuck,” his breath fanned against your skin, “You’re so beautiful. You always were. I just. I couldn’t let myself.”

“Then don’t wait anymore,” you whispered, breathless, “You don’t have to.”

That was all it took.

Your dress fell away from your chest entirely pooling at your hips, as you bared yourself to him. A low wrecked sound tumbled from his chest as his flickered between your face and the expanse of skin in front of him. When he leaned in again, his kisses were softer, slower like he was worshiping every inch of you. His hands shaking slightly as they roamed your body, cupping your breast, thumbing over your pebbled nipple, pulling a lewd gasp from your lips.

The way he looks at you, it was so much more than lust.

It was like all the years of unspoken love that had been buried deep beneath friendship and silence finally caught up with him and was captured in his now deep blue eyes.

His hand dropped down between your bodies, pressing the heel of his palm right where you need it, and your hips bucked in response. His forehead rests against yours, breathing ragged.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he muttered, his eyes focused completely on the way your hips responded to his movements, “You have no idea.”

Your hands moved to cup his jaw lifting his head to meet your gaze, your words slipping out raw and honest, “I’ve always wanted this.”

The look in his eyes turns molten, “Say that again.”

“I’ve always wanted you Will,” your whispers melting into a broken moan as his fingers slipped under your underwear, finding your soaked and aching core, “You’ve never been just a friend.”

He cursed softly under his breath, his touch growing more deliberate as his finger slipped into you, coaxing soft gasps from your lips as he worked you open with gentle, teasing strokes.

Your head lulled back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers just right.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving your blissed out expression and the way your lips parted slightly for your soft noises could slip passed them.

“So are you,”

His free hand unbuckled his belt, never once stopping the rhythm of his other, his fingers still making work on you, never taking his eyes off you. The need growing into an unbearable pit in his stomach now, frantic and pulsing. You wereboth too far gone to stop, not that either of you want to.

He lined himself up before pausing, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he pushed into you with a slow, deep stroke, and everything else disappears. The room, the party, the years of pretending all dissolves as you clung onto him, your legs wrapped around his hips, your body trembling with relief and pleasure.

The rhythm builds slowly, desperately, as he fucks you up against the wall, every thrust laced with all the things you’d never said.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails breaking skin drawing specs of blood. His name tumbling from your lips like a song. And when your orgasm finally crashed down, you unraveled in his arms, your mouth pressed on his to conceal the moans ripping from your throat, and your heart splitting wide open.

He followed moments later with a gasp of your name, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck as he spilled into you, shuddering through the release.

For a long moment, there was only silence. The rise and fall of your chests pressed against each other, and the thump of your hearts still racing in sync.

Then, quietly, he kissed your temple, “You‘re mine,” he stated, his voice barely audible.

You smiled, dazed and wrecked and glowing, “Always.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology @canyouseethesainz @happyclifford @golden-hoax @tatumrileyslover @madforgeorge @wherethezoes-at @themdera @xlovergirlx @smzyyx @bowielovesyou @pretendyoucantseeme @elhotchner @duolingofanaccount @pookietv @ooostarwarsfandom501st @triplefrontierbabe @formulaal

[tiredwriter2003]

Landon Sanchez had heard all about the wacky stuff his cousin's so called hero boyfriend had been up to. Paulina loved bragging about their local hero and everyone he had defeated but Landon called bull. If half of what she claimed had actually happened, if beings from another dimension were casually entering and leaving their own world freely, then it would be national news. Half of these so called attacks were massive and surely someone would have reported it. He had never heard of any of it though and it had caused a massive argument on the families weekly phone call. They were both made to apologise but he was not over it and was determined to prove his cousin wrong.

He started simple, internet search. If this stuff was happening then it would have been posted online, that was just how things worked nowadays, and so a simple search should clear this right up. Landon was right, at least at first, there was nothing when he looked for Amity disasters but things seemed fishier the longer he looked.

There were no accounts at all from the city. Paulina's accounts, which he knew she updated religiously, were gone. He couldn't even find her on his own following list when he knew they were mutually following each other. Her old boyfriend, Dash, was gone too. He looked for the local business pages. Nothing. His favourite fast food place, a small kebab house that allowed online orders, but its website was gone. The local shelter? No dice. After a week of dead ends, looking into every place he remembered for sure had websites, checking his screenshots and looking at the old kebab menu to confirm to himself he wasn't crazy, and noticing the town had even lost it's local tourism page? Landon got others involved. It started small. He asked a friend of his who knew Paulina and was good with computers if he could find out why her profile had vanished, not mentioning anything else yet. Nope, he was stumped. They brought in others. No one found anything. It spread, subtly, online and through word of mouth. Somehow a group of hackers found out and took it as a challenge. People all over began trying to gain access to the missing city. People travelled in person, walking in circles for hours before giving up. It took months before they had a breakthrough and things exploded out of control.

Ironically enough considering what happened, they got through on Halloween, over a year after Landon first decided to prove his cousin a liar. They got access to a local livestream and streamed it to the devices of the now massive missing city hunters. Things went wrong and it spread further than expected. Hundreds of televisions, computers, phones and more all began displaying this livestream.

The stream was called 'Phantom Watch'. Wherever was being filmed was dark, covered in strange blue tinged fog and empty of people. It was an odd thing to stream but things soon changed. Whomever was holding the camera tilted it upwards and the scene took people breath away.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of glowing individuals began appearing in the sky. Music came from nowhere and they began dancing. Laughing and smiling and twirling around the sky. An ageless youth in regal clothes appeared, glowing brighter than any other. A partner soon span into his arms and they were off. His white hair drifted as if he was submerged in the deep, his partner glistened with gold. Dressed as a Pharaoh of old, he was dipped and lifted as they danced.

Another soon joined them, dressed in a Victorian ballgown. As one separated the other took their place, and despite there only ever being two people holding one another it was clearly a three person dance.

More joined, all dancing differently and yet somehow all fitting the music. It was beautiful, it was magical, and it was being seen by thousands of people all over America. This was not what Landon had in mind.

Hours went by as the glowing dancers enjoyed themselves in the skies above what could only be Amity Park, seemingly empty with not a single living person in sight outside of those in the sky. The sun rose and the fog faded, the music fading out and coming to an end.

The dancing stopped. They looked around and the odd trio of before came forward. They bowed, seemingly to the camera, and the other dancers followed. Hundreds dropped into bows before rising simultaneously. As the sun began to hit them the group faded out, the original three beginning their dance again as the others vanished from view. After all were gone and only the three were left they looked towards the fading stars and sighed. They too, began to fade away.

Nothing happened on this strange livestream for a long moment, then a small voice whispered "Happy Samhain to both those still here and those who have departed" and the livestream cut out.

Landon was in shock, as were many other people. It seemed Paulina hadn't been lying about their local hero as one of the dancers vaguely matched her description. She was still lying about dating him though, she was not one of his dancing partners. The rest, he admitted, might be true though. Weird stuff was going on in Amity park, a city in the middle of nowhere Illinois.

However if she was telling the truth then something much more concerning came to mind. It was clear that no one, not even the Justice League if their posts online reassuring people they would look into the livestream meant anything, knew about what had been happening over there. Someone was covering up this city, going as far as trying to erase it from existence, and someone's head was going to roll for this. Landon sighed, cracked his knuckled, and texted the find the missing city groupchat.

"We're totally getting to the bottom of what the heck just happened right?" His phone soon began to buzz with others affirming. Landon smirked, after all he still had to prove Paulina was a filthy liar.

Halloween Dancers

I had an idea, I'll probably write it properly later but for now I'm getting it out of my head. I was reading a post a out Dash being a talkshow host and leading to them outing Amity and this came to mind.

A cousin of a citizen of Amity heard all about all the crazy stuff going down, they keep them updated in their weekly phone calls, but thought they were making it up. Eventually divolves into an argument and they decide to look to prove them wrong. And find the internet oddly sanitised, which makes them look deeper. Eventually they get others involved wondering tf is going on over in Illinois. They manage to break through but mess up, instead boosting the signal so much that the halloween livestreams take over a large chunk of American media. T.v. s, computers, phones, etc all playing the phantom streams, where someone sees phantom just chilling and starts streaming. this time it's Samhain and the place is eerie. Blue tinged fog covers the place, it's dark out, no living person in sight and the camera pointed to the sky. In the sky you see glowing figures dancing to music coming from nowhere. An ageless youth in regal clothes spinning his partner, white hair drifing like he's underwater, his partner dressed like the pharohs of old spinning alongside him. A woman dressed in victorian ballgowns joining their dance. Other etheral beings coming out of the woodwork, spinning in the sky alongside their king. The dead dancing in the starlit sky as the veil becomes thin enough they can all come through with no major issues. And this haunting scene taking over every screen within the signals range. As the hours go by the sun begins to rise and the fog fades. they bow and begin to fade back into the realms, leaving the original three waltzing in the sunrise as the stars fade before leaving themselves and the stream cuts off.

Turns out their cousin wasn't lying, wierd stuff is going on in Amity, and no one, including the JL, knew about it. Someones head was going to rule for the lack of info. This stunk of a coverup.

[pankesitopank]

More thoughts about han eating you out like that jijiji

wc: 1.3k

cw: oral fixation, pussy drunk Han, crack, praise, unhinged behavior.

note: hehe i loved it loll. its kinda short, but i think its good... i hope ya like it :3

It all started completely normal, just the two of you lying in bed watching some series on tv, him with his head lying between your legs, simply enjoying the warmth and softness of your thighs between his head, everything normal, comfortable even, until out of nowhere, like a girl ovulating Han began to grow a need... a dirty need to be between your legs, but not lying down, but with his face buried in your pussy, maybe that need arose from nowhere, from a memory, from a fantasy or from a scene from the series, you don't know exactly because the truth is you weren't even paying that much attention to him or the serie, you preferred to keep yourself entertained with your phone and play with his soft, wavy hair that occasionally tickled the inside of your thighs and part of your lower abdomen.

"babe" he said as he turned around to be lying on his stomach.

You looked at him curiously at the sudden act

"i want to eat you out" he said seriously but with an easily identifiable desire in his eyes.

"what?" you said trying to hold your smile.

"let me eat you out" he repeated without a hint of shame while you felt that familiar twist in your stomach, which more specifically was beginning to have some repercussions in your lower area.

"Hannie, baby... You're so annoying..."

was the first thing that came out of your mouth at the same time that you settled yourself to sit up straight, away from the danger of having his face so close to your most intimate parts, obviously trying to annoy him, although deep down that shameless and ultra horny attitude of his ignited something in you.

"And hungry." He patted your legs and grabbed them, giving you a little tug to get you closer again. "Bon appétit, baby. I'm ready."

You laughed and settled back down, maintaining eye contact and trying to act sexy, just to mess with him. Just to make him shut up. Just to watch his cocky grin flicker.

But the second your core got closer enough to his face, Han changed.

His hands came up and gripped your thighs hard, nails digging in, and he looked up at you with wide, reverent eyes like he'd just seen God.

“Holy shit.”

His voice dropped, hoarse with awe.

“You're not joking. You're actually gonna let me?”

Before you could tease him, before you could say you were just playing around— he closed the distance between his mouth and your pussy.

Mouth open.

Tongue out.

Eyes fluttering shut like it was a holy experience.

At first, you yelped—because Jesus Christ, you weren’t ready for that.

He moaned as your thighs settled around his head, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated right against your core. His tongue wasted no time, everywhere at once—sliding up your slit, dipping inside, curling messily around your clit like he was starving.

“Fuck—Jisung—!”

He groaned again. Arms wrapped around your thighs tighter. Hips shifting beneath you humping the bed. You felt his legs lift—his feet kicking up into the air—and when you glanced down, you nearly laughed.

There he was.

Shoes on.

Legs bent, feet in the air like a damn cartoon character, munching like his life depended on it.

“Oh my god,” you laughed breathlessly, hips twitching. “You’re so fucking stup—"

You didn't even have the chance to finish that little word when an unexpected moan escaped your lips.

He hummed in response. Hummed. On purpose. His whole head shook side to side like he was trying to devour you from every angle, and the vibration of his moan shot straight through your spine.

“Sh’fuckin’ good,” he slurred into you. “Tastes so fuckin’ good, baby, I’m—I’m losing it—”

With one hand you tightly gripped one of your stuffed animals that was left to the side trying to have some kind of grip with the ground, while the other gripped the back of his hair pulling him impossible closer as your thighs trembled against his head. His tongue flicked wildly over your clit, messy and fast, his nose pressing tight against you, and every time you squirmed or gasped or tried to lift off his face, he moaned louder and yanked you back down.

“Nuh-uh.”

His voice was wrecked, drunk with it.

“Don’t run. you stay.”

You looked down and saw him again—completely pussy drunk. Lips soaked, cheeks flushed, eyes barely open as he blinked up at you like you were the sun and the moon, eating you like you were his breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

His feet were still up. Kicking absently.

His tongue was still working—so fast, so messy.

And you laughed again, delirious.

“Jisung, you look so pathetic right now.”

He whined into you, pulling back for just a second to breathe, face glistening with slick.

“Why would you say that?”

His voice cracked.

“That’s so hot.”

You tried to speak again, but he dove right back in. This time slower. Sloppier. Savoring you.

He moved his head in lazy circles, tongue swirling around your clit in drawn-out, wet spirals. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs shake. You felt him mumble something again—something incoherent—and his fingers squeezed your thighs like he was holding in a full-body shiver.

“Fuckin’ heaven, baby,” he muttered. “Like candy, no, li—like melted sugar—fuck—I could live here. Just move in. Put up curtains and shit—”

You choked on a laugh.

“You’re seriously—talking right now?”

He moaned, shameless.

“Can’t help it. Tastes too fuckin’ good..."

Brain’s gone. All gone. It’s just pussy now. Pussy thoughts only.

You rolled your hips into his face out of pure instinct, and the second you did, his whole body jerked. He let out a sharp cry against you, sucking your clit into his mouth and holding it there with such desperate greed that you almost blacked out.

That was when you realized—he wasn’t teasing anymore.

He was gone. Eyes rolled back, tongue twitching, head tilting side to side, up and down in slow, pussy-worshipping movements while his feet kicked rhythmically in the air.

You reached down to touch his cheek and he shuddered violently, grinding his mouth against you like he was getting off on it.

“You’re gonna make me cum just from this,” you gasped.

His whole body stiffened under you—and then he moaned so loudly it echoed through the room. You felt the deep guttural sound shake through your clit, and your orgasm slammed into you so hard your thighs clamped around his head.

He kept going.

He didn’t even flinch.

He just held you there, face buried, tongue licking you through every pulse and aftershock like he was drinking the orgasm straight from the source.

When you finally get off him, your legs barely working, Han was a wreck.

His face was red. Mouth shiny and swollen. Hair a disaster. Hoodie drenched at the collar. And he was smiling like he’d just seen heaven and was still tasting it.

He blinked up at you dreamily, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“...That was so good I think I blacked out.”

You laughed, collapsing on the bed.

He rolled over and immediately nuzzled into your side, face still damp, arms wrapping around your waist like a koala.

“we should do this more often.”

You snorted. “You’re insane.”

He grinned, sleepy and wrecked.

“Insane for you, baby.”

And then, as if it were the most casual thing in the world—

“...Round two after a snack?”

[only-martha-knows]

…[Mat] saw Egwene coming out of the village, with two dozen or more Aes Sedai, most wearing fringed shawls. Or rather she came, and they followed. Head held high, she looked straight ahead, that striped stole hanging about her neck. The others strolled along behind her in little clumps…but they were all talking among themselves, ignoring the woman they had named Amyrlin. Egwene might as well have been alone; she looked alone. Knowing her, she was trying very hard to be what they had named her, and they let her walk alone, with everybody watching.

To the Pit of Doom with them if they think they can treat a Two Rivers woman that way, he thought grimly.

Striding to meet Egwene, he swept off his hat and bowed, making the best leg he knew how, and he could flourish with the best if he had to. “Good morning, Mother, and the Light shine on you,” he said, loud enough to be heard in the village. Kneeling, he seized her right hand and kissed her Great Serpent Ring. A quick glare and a grimace directed at Talmanes and the others, and hidden by Egwene and those behind her, had them scrambling to kneel and call out, “The Light illumine you, Mother,” or some variation. Even Thom and Juilin.

Egwene looked startled at first, though she hid it quickly. Then she smiled, and said softly, “Thank you, Mat.”

Genuinely, this is in my top five Mat moments. Mat is so annoyed with all of his female friends right now, but he sees that Egwene is hurting (both in social standing and personally) and he doesn’t hesitate to step in and support her.

This is now one of the scenes that I will genuinely mourn if it gets cut from the show. Seeing Donal Finn do this would be just fantastic.

[biteyoubiteme]

his lips gently pressed against your forehead. a reassurance to show you were safe. safe with him. EEEEEEKKKKKKKKK><<><><><

“no. i’m not hurt. there’s a smell that’s. it’s so sweet.” his voice came off ragged as his breathing increased. his desperate breathing reminded you that of a fever. raising your hand to his forehead, it felt hot to the touch. that’s when you noticed it. your palms faintly covered in red. the sweet smell jay was talking about was from you. it was your blood. STOPIT i love it sm like i just love vampires wtf- 

yet that same control was slipping through his fingers. “yn..” jay spoke in a husked whisper. almost as if. no. he was yearning for you. how could he force himself to pull away. especially when you were right there. so close to him. his forehead pressed against yours, half lidded eyes studying your features. he needed you. OMFG- im sitting here just giggling and kicking my feet in love with him and obsessed with him and wishing i had a vampire bf who was trying to resist the urge to bite me ;-;

but instead of doing so deeply. he began to lay kisses along your cheeks. to your jawline. then to your neck. Stop kisses on the neck when they are vampires just hit so different it makes me unwell- 

“i’m gonna bite you now okay?” his eyes still held doubt. understanding if you wanted to back out now before it was too late. Consent king- 

you squeezed your eyes shut as you braced for the pain. soon there it was. a burning sensation pulsing through out your neck. a whimper left you lips as his fangs sank deeper into your skin. you could feel jay hesitate, ready to stop. your fingers tangled into his hair, easing his worries. signaling it was okay. finally jay’s fangs settled into your neck. the taste of your blood made his body tremble. the taste was unlike anything he had before. it was sweet yet bitter. something that would forever be distinct to you. Chewing on the bars of my cage rn I LOVE A FIRST BITE SCENE UUUGHGH

☾ BITE ME ── p. jongseong

IN WHICH: the vampire that always crashes at your place saves you from danger. going back to your place, you both finally have a well deserved heart to heart moment.

PAIRING: vampire!jay x human!fem reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, fluff, skinship, kissing, they make out frfr, biting (fangs), slight sexual harassment, mentions of blood once again WORD COUNT: 2.4k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: another morning another early ass post. per everyone's wish i have made part 2. won't say much on it cause i don't wanna spoil things. but i hope i delivered part 2 well. but yes hope you guys like it. btw vampire jay ily PART I

your arms wrapped around your body. hands underneath your arms hoping to keep them warm. the air in the night was cold yet crisp, as you made your way home from work.

you made a turn into the shortcut you first met jay at all those nights ago. once again it was weeks since you last saw him. you instinctively frowned at the thought of him. jay made it seem like he’d be back within the week.

yet here you were again waiting around for him. promising yourself the next time you saw him you’d give him a piece of your mind. that is if he isn’t covered in wounds like every other time he stops by your place…

a deep sigh left your chest, your warm breath turning into a ghostly mist. continuing your trek home the sudden sound of approaching footsteps stopped you for a moment.

usually the shortcut to your apartment was rarely used. only known to those who lived in your building. despite that it was one am at night, no one would be walking home at this hour. your pace quickened wanting to get out of the alley way as soon as possible.

as your pace quickened so did the footsteps behind you, even if they sounded uneven with your own. each beat felt like it echoed louder than the last. a frantic rhythm matching the pounding in your chest.

almost making it to the end of the alley, your body was forcefully pulled back. body turned around to be met with the pungent smell of alcohol.

“what’s a pretty lady like you doing here so late at night?”

the minute the man’s breath hit your nose, bile formed in your throat. you yanked at your wrist in hopes of getting out of his grasp. to your demise even in his drunken state the man’s grip was strong.

swallowing back the urge to vomit you spoke through clenched teeth. “let go of me…”

the man laughed giving you a drunken smile. a chill running down your spine. your life flashing before your eyes in that second. panic soon set in. your mind hurriedly figuring out how to escape from him.

“come on. don’t be stubborn. let’s have a good time together.” his words came out in a slur as his body began to sway.

“go to hell.”

the man’s joyful expression soon twisted to anger. his brows knitted into annoyance. taking note in the change of attitude your body went into flight or fight mode. adrenaline pumped through your veins as you strongly kicked the man in his shin.

you had hoped to kick him with the intent of aiming in the area where it would hurt must. but ultimately fell short.

the man let out a ragged breath, soon cursing out in pain. his grip on you loosened. perfect timing to run away. you turned on your heels and bolted. but only after a few strides, did your legs buckle. sending you to the ground. as you fell to the ground, your palms steadied your fall. turning your head to check on the man you eyed his movements.

noticing him let go of his aching shin. fear dawned on you as he got ready to chase you down. ignoring the stinging of your palms you forced yourself back up. you began to run again. despite the sharpness of the cold air slicing at your skin. you ran, pushing past the stinging in your legs and hands.

tears began to burn into your eyes. the echoing of the drunken man’s yelling frightened you. your vision began to blur from the tears. as you aimlessly blinked and wiped them away, your body collided into someone. your already frantic thoughts worsened. fearing that the man wasn’t alone this whole time.

the new stranger wrapped an arm around your body. his firm grasp was tight as you began to punch at his chest. unable to see who was the drunken man’s accomplice. you began to fight your way out of his grasp.

“yn it’s okay it’s me.”

your ears perked at the all too familiar voice. soon your hands that were hitting at his chest stopped. the firm hold that felt threatening was replaced with familiarity. it was jay.

“jay…” your voice came out weak as you looked up at him. cheeks drenched with your tears as more still fell from your eyes.

you looked into his eyes a habit you formed over the year. the usual burgundy color shifted into a deep crimson. a hue so intense it glowed under the moonlit alley.

“you know i don’t like it when you cry..” his tone was gentle. a soothing hush to calm the constant pounding in your chest.

his lips gently pressed against your forehead. a reassurance to show you were safe. safe with him. “get behind me okay?” obliging to his words you hurried behind him.

your shaky hands tightly held onto the bottom hem of his leather jacket.

“leave..” instead of the gentle tone jay had with you, it was now demandingly cold. jay’s red eyes shined as his voice deepened with the intention of hurting the man if he refused to listen.

you faintly heard frantic breathing. then the drunken man’s voice loudly breaking through the deafening silence. “what are you?!”

instead of the sound of confrontation, the sound of hurried steps instead echoed out into the distance.

“he’s gone.” jay’s once cold voice altered the second he spoke to you.

you eerily peeked from behind jay’s arm, eyeing out if the man was really gone or not. seeing the now empty alley way your panic faded. you gripped the jacket tighter as you softly spoke.

“thank you. if you weren’t here i. i don’t know what would’ve happened.” tears began to brim your eyes once again. jay turned around to look at you. mostly needing to make sure that thing didn’t harm you. he couldn’t help but lift his hand to wipe away the faint tears.

a satisfied sigh left his chest seeing you unscathed. your head raised to look up at him, head tilting at his sigh. when looking at him you noticed his eyes were back to the burgundy color you loved.

remembering the promise of scolding him your brows furrowed ready to scold the vampire. yet before even doing so jay’s breathing staggered. his focus wavered as his senses picked up on something in particular.

“are you okay?! were you hurt before you got here?” your tone immediately shifted to worry. jay’s body soon swayed. causing you to help steady him.

“no. i’m not hurt. there’s a smell that’s. it’s so sweet.” his voice came off ragged as his breathing increased. his desperate breathing reminded you that of a fever. raising your hand to his forehead, it felt hot to the touch. that’s when you noticed it. your palms faintly covered in red. the sweet smell jay was talking about was from you. it was your blood.

“shit.” you couldn’t help but curse under your breath. the only thing you could do now was drag jay home.

finally stumbling through the entrance of your apartment, you rested against the door. a sense of deja vu washing over as you caught your breath. you steadied jay against the wall, preparing to take both your shoes off. before even trying to do so, you were caged against the door. the sudden action catching you off guard.

you looked up at jay. his eyes casted a dark tone to them. his desire once again piling up. every inch of him felt like it was burning with that desire. but he needed to control himself. yet that same control was slipping through his fingers.

“yn..” jay spoke in a husked whisper. almost as if. no. he was yearning for you. how could he force himself to pull away. especially when you were right there. so close to him. his forehead pressed against yours, half lidded eyes studying your features. he needed you.

eyeing the mole he noticed weeks ago. his eyes scanned for face. he had to know if you’d be okay with this. okay with him, his desires, the carnal need to sink his fangs into you. yet there you were standing before him. not a single doubt written on your face.

jay’s hands left the side of your body to hold your face. you melted into his touch. everything with him always felt just right. his thumbs caressed your cheeks gently.

“i… i’ve wanted this for so long…” he murmured. soon his lips gently met with yours. the soft press of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. the sensation was cold yet held a touch of warmth to it.

jay’s hands that cupped your face now found its way at your waist. one arm holding you tightly to his body while the other was planted on the door. as the seconds went by jay’s kissing became more earnest, more heated. his tongue swiped at the bottom of your lip. a silent invitation to deepen the soon intimate kiss.

your breath hitched as your lips parted for him. the kiss deepening as your tongues met together. heat soon rose between your bodies. jay’s hold only pulled you closer to him. the space of distance feeling unbearable. his kissing soon turned sloppy leaving a quiet moan to slip between your lips. to then be swallowed by another kiss.

the kiss between you two was truly more than heat. it was a years worth of silent yearning. mixed with the ache of jay’s fear spilling into this moment. you could feel the entirety of his need. the way his body clung desperately to yours. fearing as though you’d slip away from his grasp now that he had you.

jay finally parted from the kiss. he watched as you gasped softly for air, all while he steadied his own breathing. your fingers burned as you held onto his shirt for support. small jolts of a tingling sensation shooting through your body. jay couldn’t help but eye at how swollen your lips looked in this moment.

he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy this more than he anticipated he would’ve. once more jay leaned back down to kiss you again. but instead of doing so deeply. he began to lay kisses along your cheeks. to your jawline. then to your neck.

once meeting your neck his movements stopped. his head rested on your shoulder as he eyed the side of your face. noticing the absence of his affection you looked over at him. your gentle eyes meeting his regretful ones.

“are you sure…” he sounded hesitant. worried that you weren’t one hundred percent about your decision. “you’re like a moon to me yn. always there for me even when everything else feels dark. you alone bring light to me when i need it most. i don’t wanna lose you to this. this desire of a vampire…”

“you won’t lose me jay. i don’t care about the danger, or the hunger, or the difference in our worlds. i care about you. i love you.” your hand reached up to his cheek. a gentle finger caressing his face in reassurance.

“god. i’ve loved you since that first night.” his voice breathless as he continued to speak. “i’ve always found myself coming back you, all those nights since then.” jay’s hand took yours bringing your palm to his lips. soon kissing and licking away the blood that stained your hand. the sensation was ticklish causing a gentle laugh to come out.

now as both your hands were intertwined jay resumed his original actions. not only did he leave pecks of kisses along the nape of your neck, but faint nibbles. occasionally sucking at your skin leaving a visible mark.

the more he spent his time in the crook of your neck. the more his fangs started to protrude out. once happy with the litter of love bites all over your neck he raised his head.

“i’m gonna bite you now okay?” his eyes still held doubt. understanding if you wanted to back out now before it was too late.

once he has a taste of your blood he would never wanna live without it. that was the curse of his desire he had to live. even if it meant for the rest of his life. a desire he prayed will never hurt you.

“it’s okay, jay. bite me…” your voice was a hushed whisper as you tilted your head more to the side. opening up the crook of your neck more for him.

you squeezed your eyes shut as you braced for the pain. soon there it was. a burning sensation pulsing through out your neck. a whimper left you lips as his fangs sank deeper into your skin. you could feel jay hesitate, ready to stop. your fingers tangled into his hair, easing his worries. signaling it was okay.

finally jay’s fangs settled into your neck. the taste of your blood made his body tremble. the taste was unlike anything he had before. it was sweet yet bitter. something that would forever be distinct to you.

your body began to weaken as he sucked up your blood. noticing the way your legs gave in jay knew it was enough. un sinking from your neck he raised his head. jay couldn’t help but admire the new symmetrical dots that stood out on your neck. a mark that showed you were his.

jay took notice of your groggily demeanor. taking it upon himself, he scooped you into his arms.

now settled into the bed you couldn’t help but sleepily play with his fingers as he patched up your lightly torn palms. once satisfied with his work he got into the bed getting comfy next to you.

“you’re not gonna disappear for weeks on end anymore right?” you stared up at him with heavy eyelids. sleep slowly yet steadily lulling you in.

“of course not. i’ll be here right by your side always.” jay leaned down to place a chaste kiss to your forehead. as he stroked your hair gently.

“good. that means you need a phone so i can get in contact with you whenever—” before you could pester on, you dozed off. your breathing gentle and rhythmic. jay couldn’t help but tuck a hair behind your ear. eyeing your sleeping face as he smiled down at you.

“yes yes. anything for you my lune. sleep well.” his words were hushed as he pulled you closer to him. exhaustion soon weighing down on him as well.

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek @ijustwannareadstuff20

©myjjongie 2025

[firingstars]

neighborly advice | ch.1

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you meet your neighbor for the first time, and your world is falling apart around you. alternatively; bucky talks to you for the first time and watches you crash tf out

warnings: timeline is somewhere around the middle/end of fatws, language, alcohol, eventual smut, past trauma, nightmares, no use of y/n, lightly edited, mdni

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hello :3 first xreader fic- i usually write xoc fics so apologize if this is kinda wonky on some areas. this was an x oc fic at first but i decided to make it a reader fic. please enjoy!

masterlist | next chapter

The newly vacant apartment hadn’t been empty for long. The previous tenant was an older man that was too slow to walk up the stairs by himself without stressing out the other residents on the fifth floor of the apartment building. He finally allowed himself to be convinced to be moved in with one of his children into a more comfortable home upstate to spend the rest of his days.

He gave some of his most prized china to his neighbor, saying that his own children would not take care of it like she would. Of course, who were you to deny it? You'd spent the last three years of your life in this apartment building. You were nearly complete with your research, with just a few more kinks to iron out before you could formally present it.

You hoped whoever moved in beside you wouldn’t mind the late night hours. You weren’t a particularly horrible neighbor, but you also hoped your new neighbor wouldn’t be bad either. Mr. Lin was an angel. He didn’t move very fast, which meant his footsteps were light and he barely made any sound from his side of the wall. Though, if you listened closely, you still were able to hear him shuffle about which gave you the peace of mind that he didn’t fall and end up dead in his apartment.

Your new neighbor came two days later, just right after midnight. The day had been long, the overhead lights in the facility had done nothing but wear you down all day, and there was still one more thing that needed to be done before you could even think about crashing in the cotton sheets that called your name. 

Yet, seeing this scene of boxes stacked in the hallway, and a man that looked slightly out of place, you froze at the stairwell door. Briefly, you’d forgotten Mr. Lin had left, until the jingle of keys had filled your ears. Of course.

It was too late to strike up any kind of conversation, especially with a random man in the middle of a hallway that had boxes to unpack. So, you walked over to your own door, pulled out your key and gave him a slight nod.

“Good evening,” you greeted softly. 

His eyes scanned you. Not in a sleazy, disgusting way that makes your skin crawl and make your stomach want to turn inside out. It was almost calculating. As if he was looking for something, that he was certain there was something that was going to jump out and scare him. Which, in all honesty, seemed silly.

This man was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Rough around the edges, with eyes so tired and so steely blue. His jaw was sharp, just like the gaze that pierced through his soul. His shoulders were tense, but his entire body seemed to be wound up. She didn’t know if that was due to her sudden presence in the hall, or if that was his default stance. Either way, he was pretty. And he met your eyes, finally done with his scanning. So, you swallowed, and introduced yourself. 

“Bucky,” he responded with a grunt, finally pushing his door open. You watched for a brief second as he began to haul the boxes into his home– and heard a slight mechanical whirr as he picked up each box. Your head tilted in curiosity, but really, it wasn’t your place to ask or question. You had an issue with work, and then a date with your bed.

There wasn’t much to be heard from your mysteriously hot neighbor for a while. You were busy with work, and he almost seemed like a ghost. Part of you even wondered if he was really even living here, until the sound of crashing ceramics on the other side of your shared wall caught your attention. It had you made jolt, your pen skipping across your paper and dashing a line across your notes that you would now have to surely re-do–

“Fuck!” 

Oh, shit. He sounded… Hurt?

You were moving before you could register what was happening. It was almost like muscle memory, flying to your neighbor’s rescue in the middle of the night. You’d done it more than once for Mr. Lin, and you were doing it again for Bucky, the man you hadn’t even had a full conversation with. And you were knocking. Rapidly. 

“Bucky?” you called out between knocks. “Bucky, are you okay in there–”

The door was torn open before you realized it. You hadn’t heard his footsteps come towards the door. In fact, the door opened without the signature creak it usually did. It was how you knew Mr. Lin got home safe from coming home after playing mahjong with the older lady down on floor three. 

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your system just by staring at him. He opened the door so fast, but he really barely opened it at all. Half of his body was concealed, and his height covered the apartment behind him. You could only see a small lamp illuminating a corner of the room that you knew was the living room of this apartment’s layout. From what you could hear, the TV was left on to play some random show or movie.

“Sorry,” he said with a hard swallow. Your eyes trailed over his face, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He was sweating, breathing heavily, and he got a haircut? It looked nice. Bucky blinked rapidly, then dragged a hand over his face. “About the noise. It must’ve– it must have woken you up, right?”

“Oh… No. I was already awake working on… Never mind.” You shook your head. “Are– are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly. Okay. Noted. 

“Do you need water… or something like that?” you asked slowly.

“Water,” he repeated, like it just dawned upon him. “Yeah. Water is good. I will get water.”

“Right,” you said, nodding a little stupidly. Now, this felt fucking awkward. He looked uncomfortable, and you felt just as uncomfortable as he looked. “I– I’ll get going now. If… If you need anything, I’m just next door.”

Bucky didn’t answer. In fact, the second the words came out, the door was shut quickly in your face. You released the breath you didn’t know you were holding and slowly turned. What the hell was all of that?

Well, even if you wanted to dwell on this like a teenager, you didn’t have the time. Someone on your team fucked up the simulation, dropped out of the research after a heavy argument claiming it wasn’t his fault, then two more of the team pulled out as a result since they didn’t think they would be able to make the deadline when a fourth of their simulation had just crumbled in fron of thier eyes. The team you had spent the six months building, the project you’d been working on since before you got Blipped out of existence– none of it mattered. You would see this through and present this and defend it with your life even if you were the last one standing.

Despite all your efforts, you received the notice.

The funding for the project had been cancelled. The remaining sponsors had taken back their offers. You argued for an entire week. You couldn’t give up now, not when you were so close. You had the proper plans. You had the ideas, the blueprints– you just didn’t have the means to get there. You just needed the resources to prove that you were worth it–

Everyone pulled out. People who had called your project innovative and forward thinking could only send their condolences and offer you a handshake before leaving you to mourn over your brainchild. It was better than your teammates, though. They simply left you without turning back. 

And now, you were at Izzy’s, crying to your one and only friend, who unfortunately still had to work tonight. Thank the Gods for her, since she didn’t mind you sitting at her bar and sobbing.

“Why don’t you just apply for Stark’s foundation or whatever?” Leah asked, pouring her another shot of sake and sliding it over the counter. 

“Because Leah, I was trying to do this so Stark could see it and take interest. It’s no fucking point if I go bang down his door and demand him to look at my brainchild,” you grunted, taking the shot back, and making a small face at the liquor running down your throat. 

In your drunken stupor, you didn’t realize the barstool beside you scraped across the floor. No, you were tunnel visioned, unfocused, tired, and sad. You did, however, recognize the voice of the old man beside you. “You work too hard. Not many young folk are like you these days.”

“I work hard and have nothing to show for it, Mr. Nakajima,” you argued, slamming her hands on the counter before looking at him. Surprise filled your body as you looked past the old man to find someone sitting on the opposite side of him– your neighbor– who looked just as surprised to see you.

“Nonsense. What about your father? Your father would surely back your work,” Mr. Nakajima said with a smile.

“No. If I called him, he would have my ass on a plane to get me shipped off to my home country and married off before I could finish saying Hello,” you said with a snort. “I left for a reason, Mr. Nakajima. I left, and he told me there would be no support when I did.”

The old man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I cannot stand parents like that. If my son were still around…”

And as much as you loved to listen to him talk, especially loved to give him a listening ear as he reminisced about the past and about his late son, you just couldn’t do it right now. You drowned out the sound of his voice. It wasn’t difficult when the world around you was crumbling into a million pieces. You had been legally declared dead for the past five years, and when you returned, there was a fiance waiting for you that was double your age.

Your father didn’t even know if the Avengers would succeed in bringing everyone back. He just made a bet. It was some weird, sick and twisted thing that was going around the elite folk, and he got a pretty good deal with his winning hand. He wasn’t satisfied with it, and needed more to expand his net worth. Your older brothers had already been married and made their own businesses, as good sons do, but as the daughter, you were expected to do as daddy said. All of this, within the five years that you were gone and didn’t even know you were gone. 

Technically speaking, your life wasn’t completely over either. You were setback even farther than you wanted to be. There were things that you wanted to be done as soon as possible to get your ass farther from your dad, but you wouldn’t be on the streets anytime soon. You still had some of Daddy’s Money in your savings account from when you were still living at home before the blip, and your mom would occasionally send money under the pretense of bribery to get you to come home. At least you had one parent that cared about you.

“Are you okay?”

That gravelly voice, soft and low, snapped you out of your self wallowing and pity. At some point, Bucky had moved seats. No longer on the opposite side of Nakajima, but now beside you, putting you between both men. You blinked, staring at him for a few moments before reaching for the newly filled glass that Leah poured for you. She’d been making sure your glass had never gone empty for too long all night. 

“No. I wish rich bastards with agendas would burn,” you answered, a grimace coming onto your face as you looked at the cup. What the fuck did Leah give you? 

“Well, you know, you’re not the only one,” he said with a shrug, giving Leah a nod before lifting up two fingers in the air. Two cold bottles of beer were placed in front of him, and he slid one to you. “On me. Since you’re having a rough night… And as an apology… For that one night.”

“You mean when you slammed your door in my face when I was just trying to make you sure you weren’t dying or there wasn’t an intruder in your fucking apartment?” you snapped at him, and his eyes widened. Surprise, it seemed. Then again, this was the first full conversation they had ever had, and you had quite the mouth. To your defense, you had more than enough alcohol in your system to get you arrested if a cop stopped her in the streets. 

“I suppose. Yeah.”

“One shitty beer isn’t enough. Either apologize to me or comfort me. Pick one.”

Bucky stared for a few moments. It wasn’t uncomfortable to be watched by him, you realized. Then, he chuckled. A low, rumbling sound that was nice to listen to. He picked up his bottle, clinked the neck of it with hers, and raised it in the air slightly.

“Comfort for tonight. I’ll apologize another time.”

“Accepted,” you muttered, picking up your own bottle to take a swig at the same time he did.

His first impression of his neighbor… Was that she was cute. He heard her soft footsteps come up the stairwell long before anyone else would, not that she was even trying to hide herself from him. He heard her soft yawn as she turned the corner, saw the slight stutter in her step as she saw him at his door. 

She gave him a small nod. Greeted him, introduced herself. She was damn near adorable.

Bucky’s neighbor looked tired, but in a sleepy kinda way. Her eyeliner was beginning to rub off at the edges, and her mascara looked like it was about one more yawn away from sliding off her lashes. Her lips seemed kinda chapped, but he could blame that on the bite of the change of weather outdoors. She was small, too, and looked even smaller holding all those damn textbooks in one hand and another bag slung over her shoulder. Yet, none of it looked like it phased her. Either way, she looked cute to him.

Not that he would admit that to anyone.

His next run in with her was less than graceful. Nightmares continued to plague him, unfortunately. 

Even though he didn’t necessarily want to move out of the compound, he felt that it was necessary. Sam was talking to him about his sleep habits again. That he understood why Bucky slept on the floor, but at some point he needed to get up and move to the bed– that it really wasn’t normal to wake up every thirty minutes to another nightmare and not be able to sleep again– that sleeping with a loaded pistol in your hand was not natural. He didn’t need to hear any of this from his friends anymore, and he didn’t want to. So, he found something comfortable. 

It didn’t stop the nightmares.

He should have realized that the comfortable price meant the walls were fucking thin. And he slammed the door shut right in front of her face, even though she had rushed to him at nearly three in the morning with nothing on but a thin strapped tank top that didn’t even cover her stomach and pajama shorts that he was certain was considered underwear back in the day and black, thinly framed glasses that were sliding down her nose bridge and her long hair sliding out of a bun. 

Bucky spent a lot of mornings pacing in front of her door, in the hallway. He spent a lot of time waiting inside his apartment, trying to catch when she would open up her door and head out for the day. Somehow, he always fucking missed it.

Either this girl did not obey the regular time clock of the world, or she just never left her house, which he knew was false, because he heard her come back at night before or after midnight. And it wouldn’t be very neighborly of him to ambush her that late at night with an apology without making it more weird than it had to be, so he waited, and waited, and he fucking waited.

And he had other things to do, so thankfully he didn’t seem totally pathetic just waiting for her like this. Like, he made a friend. With a man not that much younger than him, someone that he knew that he would have to make amends with sometime in the future– and this certain someone invited him to dinner– and she was here.

Damn near drunk out of her mind, crying to the bartender. 

“Woe is you,” the bartender cooed at her and teased her with her nickname. 

“Don’t call me that,” she huffed, throwing back another shot. 

“Whatever,” she grinned, shaking her head as she poured another drink for his neighbor. “Come on, just tell me about it. Failed date? Guy on your research team stop flirting with you? Or worse– he got a girlfriend?”

“No, Leah. My life is fucking over,” she drawled, glaring at the counter it was the reason for all her issues. 

“Because of a guy? Don’t piss me off,” Leah huffed. 

“What’s with you and guys?” she accused.

“What isn’t with you and guys! Didn’t you say your neighbor is hot? Hit on him and get laid so you can finally stop moping around like this!”

Bucky’s eyebrow raised. The neighbor on the other side of her was a single mother of a little girl. The neighbor across the hall was two young boys in their early twenties that had just started university, but moved in relatively around the same time she did. Other than that, there were just a couple of families there on their floor. 

“You’re insane,” she huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t need to get laid, I need my research to get approved–”

“--Probably should get laid though–”

“--so can you stop saying that shit?” she groaned.

He couldn’t help it. He moved to sit beside her, and saw as her eyes realized who he was, though she didn’t realize that he had heard what they had been speaking about earlier. From the bartender’s reaction, she didn’t know that Bucky was the neighbor, either. 

Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, just slightly. Her eyelids were half closed, her breathing was slowed, and her hair was mussed up from her running her hands through it multiple times in the last few moments. Against his better judgement, he bought her a drink. He knew it didn’t do anything for him, but when things used to go south for him back in the 40s– a drink at the bar would help him. 

And she smiled. A toothy grin, one that sent something down a special pathway in his mind. He wanted to be able to see her smile again. Another time. 

And despite his best judgement, she would not listen to his gentle requests to slow down on the alcohol. She would not cushion her stomach with food or water, and he wondered where the absolute hell she was storing all of this liquor in her tiny little body. Well, she wasn’t tiny. She was just small compared to him. Hell, everyone was small compared to him, but she just especially felt–

What was he even thinking about?

“Alright. That’s enough,” he said, grabbing the shot glass from her. She made a noise of complaint, then watched him down it like it was nothing. “I’m not too sure what’s going on with you, but let’s call it a night here.”

“Listen to him, child,” Nakajima said, patting her back. She let out a breath of frustration, dropping her head on the counter.

“Just leave her here. I’ll bring her home after my shift ends,” Leah said, shaking her head.  

“I can bring her home,” Bucky said. Leah paused, eyes scanning him up and down in suspicion. He noticed, and quickly added, “I’m her neighbor.”

“You’re her–!” Leah shouted, then slapped a hand over her mouth in horror before hissing her nickname. “He’s your neighbor!?”

“Hm? Bucky? Mhm. My neighbor.. Don’t try any funny business with me,” she accused him, pointing a finger at him as she gave him a sleepy smile. 

“My Ma’ raised me better than that, promise,” he said, his own smile finding his way on his face. 

“Ah! He’s a good man, Leah,” Nakajima smiled, oblivious as to what was going on. He even handed Bucky her purse and jacket. “He will take care of her. Easy for him to carry her rather than for you to drag her. Thank you, Bucky.”

“C’mon, doll,” Bucky said softly to her, “Let’s head home.”

She hummed, and he stared at her for a few moments before somehow managing to get her situated on his back in a way that she would not fall off of him while he walked the few blocks back to their apartment building. Slowly, as he walked, he felt her body grow heavier and heavier on him. She fell asleep on his back.

When he got to their floor, he stopped at her door. 

“Wake up. You’re home,” he said, his voice above a whisper, but not too loud to wake the other neighbors. He said her name again, and she made a noise on his back, arms wrapping tighter around his neck. Fuck. 

He reached for her purse to grab her keys, only to stop. That would be an invasion of privacy. Would it be overstepping? Would it be more jarring for her to wake up in her own home without any explanation? Truthfully, it would be extremely easy for him to get her into her home and make it so he had never been there.

He didn’t do that kind of thing anymore. That wasn’t his thing. He talked to people. If he didn’t want to have to explain and deal with the consequences of his actions, then he should have let the bartender deal with bringing her home.

“Shit,” he grunted, and took a couple more steps down the hall into his room.

next chapter

[excusetowrite]

Let Him In (2)

Part One Part Two

Summary: On a sweltering southern film set, our young actress discovers that the hardest part of her role isn’t the intimacy written in the script—it’s the desire building between takes. With every lingering touch and look that lasts too long, her co-star Jack pulls her deeper into a dangerous game of blurred lines and buried desires. And when the cameras roll on their most intimate scene yet, she’s left wondering if she ever really had a choice—or if the performance became something far more consuming.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Lots of themes of obsession and possession here. Flirting, tension, talks of smut, and a very very heated filmed scene that you'll have to read for yourself. Nothing too out of the ordinary for this type of fic, hope you enjoy part two. And yes, there will be more >:))

The Taste of Pretending

At first, I thought his Irish accent would be the death of me, but I quickly learned I also have a thing for Southern men. Jack was kind-too kind sometimes. And whether he liked making me nervous or just cared too much about his craft, the effect was the same: I couldn’t breathe around him. We spent a long time that first night going over our scene for the next day and though I fought my mind from roaming Jack was nothing but respectful- and charming, and dreamy, and distracting. He fell into character in a way that shocked me and for me it was easy to pretend to be infatuated with him because it wasn’t so far from the truth. 

The first scene was on the log with Mary. I didn’t have many lines, Imogen in general doesn’t have many lines after she’s turned. All I had to do was sit there, on his right, his arm possessively around my waist, then later when the scene turned more intense gripped on my thigh. Imogen stares at Mary as if in a love-sick trance, only speaking up when spoken to directly. We filmed that scene many times that day and from many different angles. Hours of close intimate contact, some takes more, some less, but always constant. 

The next few weeks were more of the same. We filmed most of the outdoor scenes and fight sequences—those were tough. One night, we had to cut because of an alligator in the water, and after that, Jack kept very close. Hiding my attraction was incredibly hard especially when the work was already so intimate. I caught myself staring at him- his arms, his chest, his waist, lower. No better than a man. At least I could blame it on method acting- pretend that my lingering stares and flushed cheeks were just part of the role. When we would wrap for the night he would walk with me to our trailers after we got out of hair and makeup, sometimes asking to come in to work on something and sometimes I think he could tell I was just too tired. The nights were long, and most of our sleep schedules were completely ruined by that point. 

There came a point when I noticed that some of the times I invited him in we talked less and less about whatever we were working on the next day, around this time I also noticed his roaming eyes. I was partial to nightgowns and it wasn’t like I wasn’t already treating him like eye candy. Our scenes were becoming dangerously easy to shoot. I wanted to believe it was chemistry, but deep down, I knew it was something else, something harder to turn off when the cameras stopped rolling. One particular evening we were sitting across from each other sharing some drinks in my trailer, supposedly giving each other notes, when he let me go off topic. It was so easy to talk to him, and he seemed like he wanted to listen, and my drink had me feeling a little tipsy, so I talked. Rambled, really. He would interject curiously to keep the conversation moving but really I think he just wanted to hear me. That's when it came up that I used to write.

“Oh that’s awesome, a woman of many talents. What’d ye write about?” he asked as his lips perked up at the corners. 

“Fanfictions,” I blurted, regretting it the second the word left my mouth. “That was a long time ago though, I stopped when I was sixteen or seventeen maybe.” 

His laugh was low and knowing, not mocking—more like he’d just confirmed a long-held suspicion. “Of course ye did,” he teased, eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass. “Let me guess... scandalous ones?” 

There was no stopping the heat that rushed to my cheeks and my comfortable demeanor immediately fell away as flashes of my stories of him rushed through my mind. Involuntarily I crossed my legs as embarrassment, and slight arousal overtook me. He could see the shift and his eyes and smile widened in a way that reminded me so much of Cook. I tried to take the humility on the nose as I shrugged and we laughed. 

“Who was lucky enough to earn the perverted attention of teenage you?” he asked as our laughs calmed. 

I leaned back into the cushion, his eyes jumping for a split second to the rising hemline of my nightgown. His gaze flicked lower, and I swear I felt the path of it like a physical touch. My skin prickled under the thin fabric. I shifted, suddenly hyperaware of how every small movement seemed like a silent confession. Lifting my drink to my mouth I responded, “That—I’m not sharing,” I shot back, trying to sound confident even as my cheeks burned. “Some things are better left buried in the dark corners of the internet where I left them.” Sure, he could know I was a horny teen—I mean, who wasn’t? The rest stays a secret. 

His smile turned sharp. “Dangerous to leave things buried, love. They’ve got a way of clawing their way back up.” For a beat, the air felt heavier, like the moment just before a storm breaks. He leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out, his eyes dragging over me slow and deliberate. I suddenly became acutely aware of how thin my nightgown really was. He eyed me curiously and smirked before moving back to our scripts.

That was the first night I crossed a line. An imaginary line that only I knew about, but a line nonetheless. By the time Jack retired to his own trailer it was early morning and I was just a little more than tipsy. The alcohol made it harder not to look at him, to think about him, and the time I spent sitting there became incredibly frustrating. As soon as he was gone and I was in my bed alone, I did it. Reading it was bad enough. Finding release to the stories and photos of the man in the trailer next to mine made me feel wrong, but also more excited than I had been in a very long time. 

—

I’m proud to say that I’ve held my own as an amateur in this cast of actors by trade. I was also happy to have built a genuine friendship with my co-stars, especially Jack. We were always together on set of course, but I felt myself gravitating towards him off set as well. An intrusion he did not mind. 

The flirty game of a friendship we had was fun, but the first time I noticed a real shift was when we filmed the scene trying to get into Club Juke. Remmick and Imogen, Joan and Bert, two white couples just trying to sing some music and have a good time. Like always Jack- Remmick’s arm was around my waist and on one particular take Michaels character Stack looked over me in a different way than the previous takes. More intently, with more intrigue. We all tried different stuff many of the takes we did and this was no different than that, just an option to pick later. Completely improvised. 

What was also improvised was the flash of anger that crossed Remmick’s face, just for a split second, blink and you’ll miss it. And the charming smile was back, but not before his grip on my hip tightened to almost an uncomfortable amount. The mood shifted—subtle but sharp, like the snap of a wire pulled too tight. No one else seemed to notice, but I felt it in every nerve under his hand. Still I stayed in character. Still I looked at Jack starry eyed and tried to capture a reason on his face but the character had taken over him again. It was the way his fingers dug into my hips—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave the ghost of pressure behind. His grip said, mine, even if no one else could see it. And the way he looked at me—dark, focused, like he was memorizing every inch—made me feel owned in a way that wasn’t in the script. We finished the scene and that was the end of it, though when our characters walked away slowly I couldn’t help but notice how tense Jack was, how the arm shrugged over my shoulders was not loosely hanging but wrapped possessively. 

Later that evening when I left hair and makeup he was already waiting for me. We walked in near silence this time. The air between us felt heavier than the heat hanging over the set. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his head ducked just enough to make me wonder if he was thinking as hard as I was trying not to. Every few steps, our arms would almost brush. Almost. Neither of us closed the gap. As we approached our trailers I went to ask him if he was alright but before I could he turned and asked, “You know what we’re filming tomorrow, right?”

I racked my mind for a moment before my cheeks flushed, yes, our next scene was the one where he turns me, and during a lustful act to say the least. I had been putting off mentally preparing for that day and for the separation I’d have to manage in my head between my own attraction and Imogens and in doing so the day snuck up on me. His words felt like a warning and a promise all at once. I nodded, but my throat had gone too tight to say anything clever back. And wasn’t that just the problem? I never had the right words around him—not when it mattered. He returned the nod as I began to walk up the steps to my trailer, eager to be out of the uncomfortable situation. 

“Will you ever tell me?” he asked up at me. I turned to look at him, confusion furrowing my brow. “Who you wrote your smut about?” 

I laughed lightly and shook my head, again turning to go into my trailer. I stopped at the top of the steps and turned, just enough to look down at him. He stood there, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. For once, I wasn’t the one squirming under his gaze. He was the one hesitating. Waiting. 

“So, I take it you don’t want to invite me in to practice tonight?” he asked. This time when I turned to look at him he was smiling, but I could tell he was nervous. 

I let my eyes drag over him slowly- deliberately. His jaw tightened. His shoulders tensed like he was bracing for a blow or something much worse: rejection.

“Do you want me to?” I asked, voice light, teasing. But it was the kind of tease that knew exactly how much weight it carried. His mouth parted- no sound. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and God, it was almost too easy now. I watched the nerves flicker across his face like he wasn’t used to being the one left standing in the heat of his own want. I asked. I don’t think he was expecting that response because his smile fell away and for the first time he was the one looking at me nervously. “Hmm,” I hummed, stepping back toward the door, letting the screen swing half-closed between us. “I think I’m better at improvising that sort of thing.” Then, with a smile just this side of wicked, I added, “Goodnight, Remmick,” and closed the door behind me, leaving him out there in the thick, humid air with nothing but his imagination to keep him company. 

Later that evening in the comfort of my own bed I did it again. Masturbating to someone you know personally will always be weird, and I am not recommending doing it. But there is something about it that gets me very hot and bothered. Especially knowing he’s right next door, and especially after trying to prepare myself for the next day.

—

  The next day was a closed set. Only us, the intimacy coordinator, director, and needed techs. We had already filmed the scene leading up to it days ago. Imogen, walking home from her job in town late at night, unknowing of Remmick watching her from the woods. He could smell her blood and it smelled like his own, he liked that- took that as a sign. That’s what the script says at least. Of course they stumble across each other and he offers to walk her home like a gentleman, it’s dangerous on these roads at night for a pretty lady to walk alone. Imogen isn’t used to the attention, especially not from a handsome man. Her fathers protective and the only interaction Imogen usually gets is from customers at her job, customers who do not like her Irish born father. 

It’s a long walk of course and Remmick asks for a drink of water when we reach the porch. Imogen considers for a moment, her father would not approve, but her mother and father were out of town right now. And Remmick was very, very convincing. So she does what any other girl in her position would do. She lets him in. 

We ran through the rough blocking with Ryan and the intimacy coordinator a few times before we started filming for real, and that was intense enough. Starting in the small living room and moving to the kitchen, the counter, the table. I could do this. This is going to be easy. I’m a professional. Before I know it we are on our marks and someone yells action. 

It’s easy to fall into Imogen especially after all this time, easy to remember my lust as I look at him standing in front of me, and equally as easy to anxiously turn and rush into the kitchen to start filling a glass of water. My back is to him but I know he’s approaching. Predator and prey. 

“So, pretty girl like yourself lives out here all alone?” he asks as he enters the kitchen. 

I turn to look at him, his grey contacts are in but I pretend like I don’t notice. “No,” I respond as I hand him the glass of water and continue, “My Ma and Pa are usually here but they’re gone right now.”

He nods his head knowingly and drinks the water, a smile spreading across his face as he starts to approach me. My back hits the counter as he enters my space to set his glass behind me and I- Imogen- suck in a breath. He smells like Jack, like cologne and tobacco. I close my eyes at the realization and hope it fits for the scene. How many time had I imagined that scent late at night? He doesn’t move out of my space. Remmick takes space; he doesn't retreat from it. 

His voice is low as he says, “Hmm, don’t they think that’s kinda dangerous? Leaving you out here all by yourself?” He shrugs a little, the distance between us nearly closed as I come to meet his eyes. I can’t tell who I’m looking at. Jack, or Remmick. 

“I can take care of myself,” I say as I turn my head to the side sheepishly. I know he’s hit his cue to stare at my unknowingly exposed neck when I hear him suck in a sharp breath. 

“Oh, I bet you can.” The scene moves at an agonizing pace, and I can feel the tension rising—between us, in the room, in me. It only breaks when I finally look up at him and for that split second I see him, not Remmick but Jack, before the obsession returns and he closes the distance, lips crashing into mine. 

Being kissed like this feels like possession, feels like melting into him, feels like full surrender. It was hard and fast and heated. His hands grabbing and roaming my middle. Suddenly I’m lifted off the ground by strong arms and set firmly on the counter earning a gasp even though I knew it was coming. He’s standing between my legs now, just close enough to be professional and just far enough to be frustrating. Still we devour each other. His hand goes to my hair and nestles for a moment before pulling my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. 

He kisses down my flesh sloppily, nibbling and sucking in all the right spots. A moan escapes me, a real one, but no one will know. I’m an actress, I’m supposed to be acting. Still at this I feel him groan into my skin before continuing his assault. 

He doesn’t bite, not how Remmick is supposed to. Instead after we know they have more than enough film he pulls away and sucks in a deep breath, composing himself. His hand is still rooted in my hair and his eyes lock onto mine as he says, “I want to taste you.” It’s the closest to a question that he was going to get. I nod my head eagerly and he smiles greedily, as far as he’s concerned he already has me. And as far as I’m concerned he does as well. 

He returns to kissing me, gentler this time, hands sliding up my exposed legs and under the hem of my skirt at an agonizing pace. There's lube spread across the inside of my upper thigh and as soon as I feel him run his fingers through it my eyes widen and I throw my head back in a gasp. Remmick smiles and watches me greedily, finding pleasure in knowing he already has this control over me. We act it out for a few more beats before he finally removes his hand and lifts his glistening fingers for me to see. 

“All this for me?” he asks, lifting his finger to his mouth. He sucks on it slowly, eyes closing, brow furrowing like he’s savoring a delicacy. I watch him, hungrily and enthralled, then when his finger finally leaves his mouth he's dead calm as he lifts his pointer and middle to my lips. “Taste,” he orders. So I do. Slowly at first, then more greedily. The lube is strawberry flavored, but I can taste him as well. Sometimes there is no movie magic for these sort of one shot scenes. He just stands there watching me, heavy breathing and eyes blown out. When he finally removes his fingers with a pop he doesn’t hit his line immediately, for a second he just blinks, as if for just a second he forgot. But then he shakes his head. “Not enough,” is the only warning I get before he's kneeling before me and hiking my dress up, head dipping between my thighs. 

Of course it went no further than that but we still had a job to do. He started miming the intimate moment, just inches away from where I wanted him the most. I threw my head back and moaned, brow furrowing, one hand bracing myself on the counter while the other flew to tangle in his hair and I gently began pulling. This earned a growl from him and he moved more feverishly. I felt him rub his lips and chin across the lube and I could have sworn I felt it, soft kisses moving along the inside of my thigh where the lube was placed, a trick of the mind- heat of the moment. It helped me perform either way, helped me be more believable. His hands held my hips firmly in place, legs hiked over his shoulders, if I wanted to move I couldn’t- I didn’t want to. 

I gently squeezed his head twice—just barely. The cue we decided to use when I’d act like I was reaching climax. And boy, was I acting. I’ve never seen him move so quickly, one second on the ground before me and the next he was up again and lifting me off the counter earning a genuine gasp from me. 

“Not yet,” he said, his mouth and chin glistening with more than just the lube on account of the drool-inducing mints. “Not until I say so.” My legs wrapped around his center and arms around his neck as he turned and walked me to the table, holding me with one strong arm as the other brushed everything off of it in one swift motion before setting me down and standing before me. 

My hands moved hastily to grasp at the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped that with one swift motion yanking it over his head and slinging it on the ground. Chest now bared to me I made quick work of curiously roaming and kissing his newly exposed skin. His head dipped back and he let out a moan. I may have been leaving marks, but I didn’t care, and he must not have either because he didn’t stop me. Just left me to make sloppy work across him while they got their shot. 

Then, more calmly than any man should have been, he grabbed either side of my shirt collar and ripped my blouse open, loosely sewn buttons flying everywhere, leaving me in just the bra. He moved fast on the newly exposed skin, kissing and sucking, nibbling and- biting. There was only one place to go from here and we were fastly approaching that cue. 

His hands hiked my skirt up before fiddling with his buckle. My arms wrapped around his neck, our brows pushed together, eyes locked as we acted out passing that final precipice. We both let out groans of satisfaction before he started to move his hips, hands gripped on my waist. Of course there was fabric between us, but every few thrusts he got just a little too close, brushed up against where I wanted him the most ever so slightly, earning real moans and groans from me- but they were frustration not pleasure. I hope the camera can’t tell the difference. 

I had to move or I was going to explode, so I did. I improvised, laying back on the table, arms stretched above my head, body revealed and vulnerable before him. He didn’t miss a beat, and when I opened my eyes to glance up at him, his brow was sweaty and furrowed with pleasure, mouth hanging open, letting out lewd noises I’d only dreamed of. His chest still glistened, blooming with fresh marks just how I’d left it. His eyes locked on mine, and we shared a few glorious, intimate beats holding that eye contact. It almost felt real. Almost.

Then they yelled cut.

He stopped and backed away immediately, eyes darting anywhere but me. The sudden lack of warmth felt wrong. I felt vulnerable. I sat up and pulled my blouse closed with both hands.

“Was that good?” I called out toward the lights and cameras. The response was an enthusiastic yes. They just had to switch Jack's contacts and put in his prosthetic teeth for the final shot. No blood this time- leave that to the viewers’ imagination. I was told to stay put while they got him ready. He didn’t look at me as he walked away. Didn’t look at me when he came back, either. Eyes red now, the simpler set of sharp teeth in.

He got into position between my legs again, and we waited a minute while they reset the shot. Even this close, inches away, he avoided my gaze. Anxiety twisted low in my stomach and climbed, cold and tight, into my chest. Sitting bare and exposed in front of him, and he wouldn’t even look at me. He’d had no problem looking at me a few minutes ago when he was pretending to fuck my brains out.

“Did I do something wrong?” I whispered, the space between us so small no one else could hear.

His head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “No, no,” he said quickly, in his regular accent. “Just trying to stay in the right headspace is all.” He offered a weak smile. It didn’t make me feel any better. But it didn’t matter. They called for us to get back into position.

I laid back again, and before I knew it, Jack was gone—once again replaced with Remmick’s hungry gaze. So I tried to do the same, to put on the mask that was Imogen just as easily as he did. We picked up right where we’d left off- just a few seconds while they captured the transition. But my mind wandered, anxiety still lodged in my chest.

“Come here,” he commanded, loud enough for the boom mics to catch. I saw his eyes, his teeth, but Imogen’s lust had blinded her, or maybe made her unafraid of the man in front of her. So I rose to meet him.

His arms wrapped firmly around my bare waist, mine went around his neck once again—but that was all I could manage. I was struggling to find the rhythm again, to pull myself back into the aroused state I’d been in just minutes before.

He didn’t falter. He just gripped me tighter and whispered in my ear, low enough that no one else could hear:

“What’d you write about me?”

I gripped his neck harder, and a moan escaped my mouth as images flashed through my head. The stories I had written. The ones I had only imagined. The heat I felt each night in bed, thinking of him- him, the man in front of me.

I was back- lost in it. Moaning, head thrown back, eyes rolling. Then my brow pressed against his again as the camera moved behind him, angling for the final shot. While his face was still out of frame, he whispered:

“I knew it.”

He smiled, sinister with the teeth and contacts, and it only made me act harder.

The camera captured the shot of us, hungry, locked in each other’s gaze. We both began to speed up, reaching our fake climaxes. It was so easy to pretend. That’s when she does it- when I do it. I tilt my head to the side, baring my throat to him, offering myself without hesitation, without fear.

The last thing the cameras catch is him going in for the bite. The last part I feel is his breath- hot, deliberate- right where my pulse hammers loudest. And I don't know where Imogen starts and I begin anymore.

[quietstormxr]

Inconsequential

Bodhi Durran x reader

Summary: Bodhi tries to comfort you after you're left feeling inadequate.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Feelings of low self worth and mentions of depression, no real spoilers, Angst/Comfort

Just a little something for Bodhi Week, because we couldn't leave out our soft boy. (At least he is in my mind.)

“Did you see the way I took down Denton today? Seems like all those lessons are finally paying off.” You croon as you sit down at your usual table, directed specifically at Garrick and Xaden. They had been working on your sparring and you’d only hope they were proud of the way you handled yourself.  

Though it isn’t until you pick your head up from sitting down that your brows furrow. Searching the faces around you, Garrick and Xaden are still in a discussion and haven’t even turned their heads. No single inkling on their faces that they even heard you speak or noticed your presence at all. Imogen is talking with Quinn and Bodhi looks enraptured in whatever they are discussing as well. 

As you take in the scene around you, your face falls. This isn’t the first time that you’ve felt yourself passed over, but the way no one even acknowledged your presence had you shrinking in on yourself. 

Knowing the look on your face well, you get up, before even sitting for a full minute. Appetite entirely forgotten, you pick up your tray and head straight for the door. Before you walk completely out, you turn and look back towards the people that you’ve grown accustomed to calling your friends, maybe even family. Eyes meeting the table, you aren’t shocked to see that not a single one of them has even looked your way. 

Dumping your tray, you let your gaze fall as you begin the slog back to your room. You don’t let your head rise the entire time that you walk back. Failure making a home in your bones.

‘You need to speak up. You should never let them dictate your feelings about yourself.’ Dearmad huffs in your mind. 

There’s no reason to respond, this wouldn’t be the first time your bonded would berate you for your feelings of inadequacy and unimportance, and it won’t be the last. Reinforcing your shields, you continue until you hit the end of the hallway of the first years. Shutting out your dragon the only way you feel you can move forward.

Staring at your own door, you can feel the way the tears swim, there’s nothing less you wanted to do than cry. You’d cried more than enough for one lifetime already, but the walls feel like they’re caving in. The fortress you thought you had built around yourself shattering into irreparable pieces.

Opening the door to your room, you don’t even make it to your bed when the tears come in earnest. Your breaths become shallow, and your knees crash to the ground, the weight of being inconsequential settling on your shoulders like a immoveable force. You don’t try to move, you just let yourself curl in, the emptiness in your mind crushing the small seed of hope that had begun to grow over the last few months. 

If someone asked how long you cried, you wouldn’t be able to tell them. You didn’t even rise the next morning when formation came. The knocks on your door emanated, but you just laid there, staring at the beams that crossed your room. Limbs feeling heavy, you don’t move for the next two days. The force of depression holding your limbs down. 

A strong rap of two knocks makes one eyebrow raise. You try to think of who it could be, but there aren’t any names that come to mind. 

“Cadet L/N.” A stern voice calls from the other side of the door. 

You wince knowing that there’s no way to avoid this knock. Trying to comb your hair down with your hands, you walk to the door and open it to see Professor Devera and your wingleader on the other side. 

“You have not been to formation for the last two mornings, cadet.” Devera states, though there’s a softness in her eyes you’ve never seen before as she looks you up and down. “Though I can tell you haven’t been feeling yourself, have you?”

You look back at her in slight confusion, is your professor really going to let you off the hook? She turns her head and looks back towards your wingleader, the only thing you can be thankful for at the moment is that it isn’t Xaden. 

“She will need to have a punishment, as she did not come to command for leave due to illness. However, I believe we can limit its severity.” She finishes before giving a nod to both you and your wingleader and walking back down the hall. 

As you watch her walk away, you catch a glimpse of familiar black curls down the hall before your attention is brought back to your wingleader.

“Looks like it will be dish duty for a week, Cadet L/N.” Septon called as he walked away from your room. Though he surprised you turning around and giving you a small smile. “Next time, let your squad leader know and you can avoid it.”

With a small shake of your head, you pad back into your room and close the door softly. Letting out a large sigh of relief and dread. You don’t even get two steps in before the knock on your door comes, and there’s no doubt in your mind at who is on the other side.

Not wanting to go back to the world yet, you ignore the knocks and sink into your bed, pulling the covers over your head. The knocks sound again, sharper this time, but you just sink further into your bed and close your eyes. 

The dreams hit harder than normal, your mind pulling images of taunts and those who claim to care turning their backs on you. But when you watch your dragon fly away without you, you rise clutching your chest, your heart feeling like it may flutter completely out. 

Feeling the sweat drop down your brow, you rake your hands through your hair, pulling at the untamed mess. Knowing that sleep will not be finding you again any time soon, you take a deep breath and walk to the communal showers.

The halls are quiet now that it’s the middle of the night, but you still take the time to check your surroundings. It’s then you notice the note that was lying on the floor at your feet, the familiar sprawling script adorning the page.

Y/N,

I don’t know what happened, but we all need to know you’re alright. I’ll come check on you again in the morning.

Your Bodhs

You try to reign in the quiet scoff, but it’s out before you can stop it. You shake your head at the note, a wistful feeling leaving you knowing that its always Bodhi. 

Tucking the note on your desk, you head to the bathing chambers hoping to chase away the feelings that have settled over you. The threat of never being good enough biting at your core. As the water begins to warm, you will yourself to drudge up at least one good memory, one instance that will bring a smile back to your face.

When it seems impossible, you shower quickly and turn the taps off, needing some fresh air, something that doesn’t feel like the oppressive weight of Basgiath. Tying your boots tightly, you wrap your cloak over your shoulders and walk towards the clearing, hoping its empty since most of the Tyrs have already been assigned their help. 

As you walk through the tall grass, you let your fingers graze over the strands, the sound of them blowing in the wind bringing a soothing melody. Once you arrive at the familiar oak, you let your back slide against the rough bark and look out towards the moonlit sky and the slightly illuminated town in the distance. 

“Looks like Garrick is going to owe me, just like I thought.” The familiar voice floats over the light hum of the rustling grass.

Turning your head, you watch as Bodhi’s shape continues to come into view.  

“Are you stalking me Bodhi?” You voice comes out harsher than you intended, but it seems to have no effect on the man coming towards you.

“No.” Bodhi replies cooly. “But I do know you rather well, so I’ve been checking out here the last few days.”

Your brows scrunch in confusion at his words. 

“You don’t have to look so disbelieving.” Bodhi continues as he finally sits down next to you, long legs sprawled out and hands resting behind. “I saw the look you gave everyone before dumping your dinner and bolting.”

Your brows now rise in surprise at Bodhi’s revelation. For months you’d been feeling like an outsider in the group, a mere spectator to the stellar show that everyone else provided in the quadrant. 

“People do see you, you know. Even if you don’t feel like it.” You don’t try to hide your scoff at Bodhi’s words.

“Please, if that were the case, then someone would’ve noticed when I spoke to them days ago.” You let the hurt leach into your voice, a bitter taste coating your tongue. 

Closing your eyes at your frustrations, they are startled back open when you feel a warm hand tug against your waist in a bid to move you closer.  “I did notice. And you’re right, you should be proud of the match against Denton.”

Your eyes flare as Bodhi continues to haul you closer to his side, his arms wrapping around your shoulders. 

“Surprised?” Looking into those chocolate brown eyes, you can’t help but admit to yourself that you were. 

“Considering you didn’t breathe a word when I was leaving - yes.” The statement said with a nonchalance you didn’t really feel.

A look of regret passes his face as he squeezes you a little tighter. “I wanted Garrick and Xaden to realize what they had done. But the minute you walked through the door, I regretted not kicking them both under the table.”

There’s no stopping the slight laugh you release at Bodhi’s statement and as you relax, you let your head fall to Bodhi’s shoulder. 

“Why is it always you Bodhi?” You can’t help the question as it leaks out. “Why are you always the one to breathe warmth back into me?”

A contented sigh leaves his lips as you both stare up at the stars. “I don’t know about warmth, but I do know that you should never feel insignificant. You are a treasure to this world and we would be missing too much if we lost your light.”

“Thank you Bodhs.” The words pass you lips on the smallest whisper, the feeling of warmth finally crawling its way back through your veins. 

As you watch the night sky with a small smile, you let yourself snuggle a little closer to the man that always makes you feel everything, except inconsequental.

Taglist: @ilovetomtailor @nevermoresworld @nastylicious @iambored24601 @mysticalfuncollectorus @sadpieceofbread @alwayshave-faith

Divider: @empyreanevents

[ot3]

my biggest single complaint about korra is that it is boring. there was just never really enough weight to any of the character/story beats to make it feel like the show was meaningfully paying off and as such watching it felt kind of like a chore. i think you can mostly attribute this to the fact that there didn't feel to be any real interplay between the protagonists and antagonists. legend of korra felt way more like a show where one side is good and one side is bad going through the motions of defeating the bad guy than ATLA did, despite that very much being ATLA's premise and korra going out of its way to pay lip service to the idea of villains with complex motivations or sympathetic beliefs. in general, it felt like every character in this thing was going through the motions of plot beats, and not dynamically reacting to events in their lives. very hard to get immersed in. plus they added a ton of unnecessary and uninteresting romance plotlines which are always a huge downgrade to a story in my mind

i also think one thing that was a big downgrade from atla that i don't see mentioned a ton is also that it stopped really feeling like a martial arts story in any way. i guess it didn't have to be one, but i wish it had been, because that was a big part of what made the original series work. i feel like the training and fighting scenes in legend of korra were much less effective at doing character work, and the fights are often more style over substance. in addition i feel like all of the new tech and spirit powers that korra introduced watered down the audiences ability to understand the mechanics of its own combat systems, thus lowering the stakes of all fights. part of what makes combat driven narratives work is knowing what everyone is supposedly capable of before it happens, and its almost impossible to build real tension without this imo.

i just feel like so many of the key character moments in ATLA come from their excellent fight scene writing - katara's fight with pakku, toph's big fight at the earthbending wrestling arena, sokka's fight with master piandao - these are all like some of the hardest hitting and most effective bits of character writing in the series and i can't think of a single comparable fight in korra. which is a big problem!

i'm also not a huge fan of what they did to the ATLA setting in LOK... the steampunk thing i thought was really interesting when the show first came out but i soured on it over time, especially when it got to the point they were just doing fucking full sci fi mechs by the end. it felt pretty uninspired to me that the only future they could imagine for this world was industrialization in a way that mirrored our own world. like i don't need it to be a #solarpunk show or whatever but legend of korra felt oddly absent of any of atla's interest in environmental concerns and it feels like a real missed opportunity. i also found it a little bit strange how pieces of more westernized aesthetics started slipping their way in to the setting in a world that shouldn't have any of those influences. like why do we have characters wearing suits and ties now? the original show has been rightly criticized for its orientalism but i don't think legend of korra really did anything to reckon with or correct for that legacy and stumbles into its own difficulties with being produced through a white lens.

i just feel like they kind of missed the mark in almost every way on it.

i dream of a day when they just give up and stop milking this particular cash cow but it will never happen

[starleska]

about that scene with the Doctor...(spoilers for The Interstellar Song Contest)

i agree with everyone that the Eurovision allegory was dreadfully handled, and the character of Kid was done a tremendous disservice. the messaging of making your genocide-survivor character hell-bent on murdering countless others to make a point is dreadful, especially in the context of the Israeli-Palestininian conflict. what we end up with is a weak, gross message that one should comply with their persecutors in order to deliver 'acceptable' protest (e.g., Cora with her Hellian song). of all the messaging in these recent episodes of Doctor Who, this has been the nastiest, whether intentional or otherwise. however: i don't think the Doctor snapped because his morals suddenly went out the window and he decided to torture a genocide survivor. he snapped because he saw himself reflected in Kid.

Kid was about to murder three trillion people. by the skin of his teeth, the Doctor managed to stop Kid from murdering the thousands on board that space station, and he still thought they were casualties because he had no idea to get them back. to him, not only was Belinda dead, but every memory of Earth was also dead, all in an instant, with another atrocity coming. i think the poorly-communicated message of this episode which attempted to flesh out the Fifteenth Doctor's character is to do with the cycle of trauma and violence. i think we can all agree that the Doctor's reaction was horrific, and it's clear we are supposed to be horrified by his actions. we've seen in previous incarnations (Seven, Ten, etc.) that the Doctor is capable of a tremendous amount of cruelty in response to horrendous acts. for the past two seasons the Doctor, a war veteran who has witnessed unimaginable horrors across countless lifetimes, has been on the edge of a complete nervous breakdown, and we've been seeing signs of that since Boom and Joy to the World. in Kid, the Doctor saw reflected back a version of himself he despises: a person willing to harm others to exact vengeance and make up for heinous acts. and he lost. his. mind. the gigantic misstep in this episode was making Kid the villain. the writers attempted to fix this by having the Fifteenth Doctor assess Kid as having a "cold, filthy heart" that "just likes to kill", and because the episode has such awful, muddled messaging, we can't even begin to untangle whether or not that's true. either way it doesn't look good: the most generous interpretation is that Kid was just a "bad egg" who wanted to hurt people in the first place, but what kind of awful writing is that? we end up with Kid being the bad one for lashing out, and Cora being the good one for complying, and that...ugh. that puts a sour taste in my mouth. this episode was not the right time or place for the Doctor to have his Time Lord Victorious moment. it is important to note that this episode aired directly before the actual Eurovision Song Contest, on the BBC. i'm honestly astonished that they let this air at all, as even a confusing, politically murky reference to the ESC being funded by Israel could've easily been tanked. the episode makes an attempt at a pro-Palestinian allegory, but it drowns itself in its own contradictions and ends up making our main character torture someone who is both a Palestinian stand-in and a would-be mass murderer. my confusing feelings on the episode are:

i understand what the writers were trying to do, and i think they missed the mark enormously

i appreciate that they were trying to make an episode which addresses the controversy around the Eurovision Song Contest, but it came off as offensive and honestly a bit horrifying

i was glad to see the Doctor finally have an episode of sincere, uncontrolled rage, but unnerved by who that rage was directed at (even if it makes sense given the Doctor's history)

it's impossible to divorce this episode from its real-life context, and that makes examining the Doctor's actions very difficult.

does Kid's attempted mass-murder justify the Doctor torturing him? of course not. does Kid's status as a genocide survivor preclude him from committing horrendous acts? no, but that particular messaging with this context feels deeply gross. did both Kid and the Doctor act in horrendous ways partly due to the trauma they've both experienced, as well as their own propensity for violence and harm? yes, i think that was the idea, even if it was handled very, very poorly. tldr; writers tried to do something clever and flesh out Fifteen's capacity for anger and harm, but did it in a way which demonises a suffering group of people. i don't think deliberate harm was intended, but there's a reason why myself and so many others watched this episode and came away feeling disturbed. the episode is ostensibly critical of Israel's funding of Eurovision, but the allegory falls flat in the face of the Doctor's rage.

[patientreflections]

The results are in....

and it's an interesting case study to say the least. I’m not someone who usually comments on celebrity rollouts, but the way this particular one played out caught my attention more so than usual. Not because of the relationship itself, but because of how it was presented—and how quickly it became clear that it didn’t land as I assume was intended. I found myself this week asking, "what was the point?" To clarify, I do think Luke and Antonia are genuinely together. If this were a PR relationship, it’s not a particularly strategic one. By all accounts PR relationships are grounded in both parties seeing a mutual benefit to the alliance. This rollout however hasn’t been smooth, the timing is strange, and the whole thing feels awkwardly executed. The problem here isn’t whether it’s real. The problem is that it doesn’t work—at least not in the eyes of the public. What stood out first was the rollout’s uneven pacing. It began with solo red carpet photos at the British Vogue x Netflix party—no official couple shot, just quiet proximity. Then, the next day, came more affectionate footage and behind-the-scenes images. Luke’s own grid post included a cheeky couple photo, but buried behind a solo cover shot. At the BAFTAs, a joint photo was taken at the entrance but not on the official step and repeat. The early signals felt cautious, almost noncommittal. Then suddenly, the switch flipped: a full-scale post-BAFTAs press push—major entertainment headlines, a stylized couple photoshoot, digital articles, the works. It went from soft launch to shouting in 24 hours, all seemingly to benefit Antonia. And then…poof, nothing. No follow-up. No echo. Just a sharp drop-off that made the silence louder than the reveal itself. Usually, after a media blast like that, you'd expect at least 48-72 hours of natural pickup— fashion commentary, snippets in entertainment news, curious discourse online.  But a quick trends search shows the coverage hit a wall and then a steep decline. No legs, no staying power. That kind of silence tells you everything. The audience just didn’t care enough to keep the story alive.

It doesn’t help that there’s no clear narrative around them. No shared project, no compelling reason for the timing, no personal reveal or milestone that gives this rollout structure. And critically, there was no existing foundation of goodwill to support it. A quick yet enlightening 10 minute google search showed me that Antonia came into this with complicated baggage among parts of the Bridgerton fanbase. Luke, meanwhile, has been publicly adrift for a while—present but not exactly engaging. In the midst of a rebrand of his image, which from what I can tell isn't exactly hitting the mark either. When neither person is holding strong favor with general audiences, a joint push like this is risky. And we’re seeing why. That context makes the hard numbers more meaningful. One week post press launch and Antonia’s Instagram gained just under 200 new followers. That’s not slow growth—that’s a near flatline. As for Luke’s numbers, they are moving in the opposite direction entirely, with noticeable drops on days with heavier media activity associated with this joint press push. For someone with over 2 million followers, the loss isn’t huge—but the pattern matters. In PR, it’s not just about the raw numbers—it’s about trajectory. Luke has been steadily losing followers for close to near a year now. That kind of long-tail decline tells you something about public sentiment. And unless there’s a clear pivot—something that injects likability, surprise, or career momentum—it becomes very difficult to shift that narrative back in a positive direction. At the heart of it, this isn’t even about how “liked” or “disliked” they are. It’s about the absence of emotional connection. There’s a lack of charisma in how they’re presenting themselves. The affection feels performed rather than natural—and even if you are one of the many casual viewers like myself, you can sense it. There's no spark, no softness, no sense that the moments being shared between them are actually for each other rather than for the camera. With Antonia, that pattern shows up in nearly everything she shares online. Every aspect of what’s posted —her outfits, her captions, even the way she moves through a red carpet—feels like it’s being filtered through a performance lens. There’s always a knowing glance to the camera, always a pose, never a moment that feels unguarded or instinctive. Her Instagram presence is heavily Gen Z-coded: trend-driven, aesthetic over substance, and largely without a clear persona or unique point of view. So when she’s suddenly styled beside Luke to evoke a kind of “polished elegance”—reserved, tasteful—it doesn’t land as aspirational. It lands as calculated. I’m sure that in person Antonia is lovely, but I get the sense she’s been studying what it means to be “seen,” more-so than knowing what she actually wants to say.  As for Luke, this past weekends events came across as someone familiar yet completely unknown at the same time. Like a man wearing an ill fitting suit designed by Hollywoods expectations of him vs. someone genuinely forging his own path. The disconnect is visibly noticeable.

In publicity, you can’t manufacture a moment unless people want to buy into it. The audience has to feel something—curiosity, warmth, joy, even drama but it also has to be rooted in authenticity. When everything feels staged, and there’s no real emotion underneath the aesthetics, people simply move on. That’s the danger of trying to perform visibility without substance. You can dress it up in a pretty dress, pair it with a leading man, and frame it on a red carpet —but if there’s no real person underneath for the public to connect to, it just doesn’t stick.

So where do they go from here? From my experience, they've got two choices: 1. At first you don’t succeed, try again…and hope for the best 2. Accept that what might work behind closed doors just doesn’t translate publicly—and forcing it into the spotlight won’t fix that. Whether it’s working privately is anyone’s guess. But whatever it is, putting it on display isn’t helping either one of them.