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#this is the part where you like and reblog :)
folkwhoredoll · 2 days
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yacht escapades - rafe cameron x fem!reader
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pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader
synopsis: sneaking away with your boyfriend leads to a salacious session under the moonlight
word count: 2k
warnings/tags: smut! (unprotected sex, f and m oral, fingering, brief cockwarming), sweet boyfriend!rafe
a/n: hi everyone! thank you so so much for everyone's support on my recent works. seeing all your hearts and reblogs always makes my day :3 i've always wanted to write a smutfic for rafe so here it is. i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!
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“Relax, baby. This is literally my family’s yacht. Technically, it’s mine too so don’t worry.” Rafe assured you for the hundredth time, rotating the helm of the boat to move farther away from the dock.
Your boyfriend has always been unpredictable, so when he slowly woke you up half an hour ago because he couldn’t sleep, you had no idea that you two would end up sneaking away his parents’ yacht at three in the morning. A part of you was nervous, knowing that Ward tends to get pissed over the littlest things that Rafe did. But another voice was lulling you to just enjoy the night breeze.
“I know, I know. But what if—” You blabbed.
“Stop, sweetheart. We won’t even go that far.”
You sighed, walking over behind Rafe to wrap your arms around his waist while he continued to maneuver the boat far enough to isolate the two of you from the island.
“See? Isn’t this nice?” He smiled proudly, holding your hand to take you to the couch, easily pulling you to his lap.
Your breathing was quiet, hands firm on top of Rafe’s wrapped arms on your waist. He was occasionally giving you some soft kisses on the forehead and cheeks when you broke the silence. “So how exactly is this going to help you sleep?”
“It probably won’t.” He answered bluntly.
You chuckled, watching over the soft ripples on the surface of the lake.
You were on the verge of falling asleep on Rafe’s lap when you felt one of his hands move from your waist to your right thigh, thumb softly rubbing the skin. You didn’t think much of it and let out a small yawn, but he moved his hand further up, making you roll your eyes.
“Hey.”
“What?” Rafe replied innocently, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.
“I know what you’re doing.” You huffed. Sitting up straight but still not leaving his lap. “Did you just bring me here for sex?”
Rafe let out a fake gasp, but his eyes shone with mischief. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know, we could’ve just done it in your bedroom.”
“Where’s the thrill in that?”
“So you admit! You just want sex.” You raised your brow.
“Well, yes and no. I really couldn’t sleep but now you just look so pretty and we’re all alone here.” He said, tugging the bottom of your shirt.
You groaned, not that you were annoyed with him. You’re annoyed with yourself for liking the idea. It is no secret that you and Rafe have always been sexually active, always trying out new things that one of you may be curious about. Your sex drive matches with his, and it is one of the things that you two love about each other. So the thought of giving yourself to your boyfriend in the middle of the night underneath the stars tempted you so much. And you shamelessly fell for it.
You looked down at his groin, already noticing the bulge through his khaki shorts despite the slight darkness. You pressed your hands against him and gave it a hard squeeze, surprising Rafe.
“Fuck, baby.” He gasped, hips raising upwards slightly.
“You want me, Rafey?” You whispered, giving him the most innocent look you can muster. But Rafe can see right through you, knowing that your question was all he needed as a signal to make a move.
Rafe didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your face towards him, kissing you roughly. His tongue glided over your lower lip, making you open your mouth to let him in. Without breaking contact, you fully turned your body to face his, grinding slightly while tangling your fingers in his hair.
He put both of his hands on your hips, heavy breaths occasionally leaving his lips but never breaking the kiss. It was you who pulled away first after a while, gasping for air but wasting no time unbuttoning his shorts.
“Eager, are we?” He smirked, lips red from kissing you.
“Shut up.” You replied, hurrying to pull out his huge manhood as you positioned yourself from his lap to kneel on the floor.
“Go ahead, baby. Suck my cock off like a good girl.” He cooed, stroking the top of your head.
You gave him a sweet smile before giving his tip a lick, making sure to never break eye contact. Rafe threw his head back, whispering a curse under his breath. You grinned at his reaction, ego growing higher as you wrapped your lips around his head.
Rafe almost thanked the sky above for your mouth. He has always been proud of having you. A smart, rich, and polite girl; a literal angel, as others have said. But they don’t know what kind of a freak you are behind those innocent dresses and wide eyes. None of them know except Rafe, and he intends to keep it that way.
You kept sucking him off, pushing yourself to take in as much as you can even as tears brimmed your eyes. You wrapped your slender fingers around the area that you couldn’t take, loving the way he tasted.
Rafe’s head was pulled backward, his chest rising and falling heavily while he muttered praises and curses. He was on the verge of his release when he suddenly put both of his hands on your shoulder.
“No, I want to cum in your pussy.” He panted, pulling you up by the arms. He gently pushed you against the couch so that you were now the one sitting. He stood up and hurriedly removed his clothes, your eyes in awe while watching him. “Like what you see, baby?”
You grinned, pulling your shirt upwards, and expertly removed the clasp of your bra. Rafe’s eyes were trained on your breasts as soon as you freed them, but he wasted no time removing your shorts and panties at the same time.
“Fuck. There’s my pretty pussy.” His eyes were steadily trained on your cunt as he leaned down at eye level. It was as if he was hypnotized as he brought one hand to your folds, gliding his forefinger up and down. He smirked when he noticed the thin sheer wetness in the middle.
“Rafey…” You whined.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Fuck me already.”
“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” Rafe chuckled amusedly. “Patience, darling. ‘Gotta prepare you nicely first.”
He continued to tease you, never touching your clit or pushing a finger inside of you. With each moment that you grow irritated, the wetness of your womanhood increases. When Rafe sensed that you were about to curse him off, he suddenly inserted two fingers in, making you gasp.
“Shit.” You breathed, soft moans leaving your lips as he curled his fingers before pumping faster.
Rafe placed his thumb on your clit, making you squeal in both surprise and pleasure. You swore you almost saw stars when he did so, one hand reaching downwards in an attempt to grab onto the couch for support while the other reached for his wrist.
He ticked his tongue at the action, using his free hand to pull your hand away.
Rafe lowered his head until your legs were leveled with his face, inhaling your scent while still fingering you. He brought his lips closer until you could feel his breath near your folds, making you shiver.
“Rafe, please fuck me… fuck.” You pleaded.
“I will, darling. But I have to taste this pussy first.” Without warning, he removed his thumb from your clit, replacing it with his lips. You screamed at the contact, suddenly thankful that no one could hear you.
Rafe continued to play with your clit, tugging the small nub with his teeth while pushing his tongue inside you. You were almost crying from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling of your boyfriend’s mouth and fingers in the same area was almost too much.
You were loudly moaning his name, hips lifting on their own as you pushed yourself closer to Rafe’s mouth. Your boyfriend grinned against you, his pride increasing with the knowledge that only he can make you feel this way.
You almost screamed in frustration when Rafe abruptly pulled away, licking his lips to savor your juices. “Ready, baby?”
“Yes, Rafe, fuck me please.”
“Always so polite.” He snickered, loving the way that your eyes turned hazy from all the pleasure. “Who am I to turn down my baby’s request, hm?”
With a swift move, Rafe quickly positioned his cock to align with your cunt before pushing himself in with one go. You gasp at the intrusion, shock, and ecstasy filling your body. Having sex with Rafe so many times has made you familiar with his size, but you still weren’t prepared for the amount of stretching that your womanhood would have to make to accommodate him.
He wasted no time and began thrusting, slowly at first to let you adjust.
“Shit. Your cunt is hugging me perfectly.” He gasped, building up his tempo.
You were too speechless to reply, the only thing that you could do was moan and grab his chest. Rafe placed one hand on your hip, and the other grabbed both your wrists to pull your hands above your head.
Sweats, gasps, and whines were the only sounds heard. Rafe’s hips collided with yours with strength, making you scream out his name. He admired the beads of sweat on your forehead, your skin illuminated by the moonlight. He always believed that you were the prettiest girl on this planet. And seeing you at this moment, naked and dewy with your face twisted in enjoyment, he knew he was right.
“Come on, darling. Give it to me.” He praised, knowing that you were close with how tightly you were squeezing him.
You mumbled his name over and over again, legs shaking as you wrapped them around his hips to pull him closer. Rafe cursed after seeing your action, thrusting harder and faster to chase both of your highs.
You were a crying mess underneath him, pleasure surging through all parts of your body. You opened your eyes slightly, admiring Rafe’s face before feeling the pressure on your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, Rafe. I’m gonna cum.”
“Go ahead, sweet girl. Cum for me. I want to feel you around my cock.” He urged, never breaking the pattern of his thrusts.
You screamed after a few more pushes, your vision blurring slightly as you squirted around him. Rafe came after you, gasping as he felt his warm liquid mix with your own inside your pussy.
You two were panting against each other, Rafe still inside you as he caught his breath. “You alright?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.
You couldn’t reply, still breathing heavily but nodded instead. Rafe started to slowly pull out of you, making you whine.
“No, Rafey. Stay.” You pouted.
He smiled sweetly, lifting you so that he could sit on the couch without separating from you.
The two of you lay there, soft breaths coming out of your mouths while Rafe hugged you against his chest as you keep him warm in your cunt.
“Tired, baby?” He asked you after a while, noticing your droopy eyes.
You nodded, feeling warm against his body despite being exposed to cool air.
“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Rafe whispered, kissing you softly on the forehead.
Before closing your eyes, you vowed to sneak out with his yacht more open.
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valeskafics · 2 days
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"Over The Rainbow" - Gale Cleven x Reader
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a/n: my first time writing for buck! i hope y'all enjoy this!! 🩷
Summary: Thirteen years ago, Gale Cleven ran from you when you tried to kiss him. He doesn't intend on making that mistake twice.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ww2
Word Count: 3,000
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Masters of the Air characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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Gale remembers the last time he saw you vividly. You bounded up to him, a homemade valentine in your hands, grinning that chipped-tooth smile of yours, your two braids flying behind you. You shoved the paper into his hand and he looked between it and you, confused for a moment before reading its contents. There, on the paper, was a poorly drawn picture of a bee. And under it, the words “Bee mine, Gale?” Of course, the entire schoolyard was full of kids, teasing the two of you as you leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. And even though every fiber in him screamed to lean in and let you, he pulled away and ran, the sounds of the other kids' laughter ringing in his ears.
Casper, Wyoming was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody, with a population of just over fifteen thousand people. From the butcher to the seamstress to everyone who lived within a fifteen mile radius. How was he supposed to just kiss you like it didn’t mean anything? His friends would’ve mocked him ceaselessly. Hell, he might’ve even gotten beaten up, come Monday! So, he stayed inside all weekend, save for church on Sunday, praying that by the time Monday rolled around, everyone would’ve forgotten the almost kiss.
Valentines’ Day was on a Friday that year. 1930. And by Monday? You were gone. Everyone always said if anyone was going to make it out of Casper, it would be you. Every talent show, you were up there, singing your little heart out. Acting in every play. Though Gale would tease you and tug on your braids, he knew that you had what it took to be a star. He was ready to give you that kiss Monday at school, only to learn that your family had moved to California. That you’d gotten a part in some traveling vaudeville group, singing with that voice of yours. By 1935? You’d gotten your big Hollywood debut, starring as Cosette in ‘Les Miserables’. But it wasn’t until 1939 that you became a star, your role as Dorothy Gale cementing your status as the starlet to watch going into the 40s.
He’d deny it till he turned blue in the face, but he cried watching you sing ‘Over the Rainbow’, that gorgeous voice of yours like honey in his ears. Gale went to the picturehouse ten times to see that film, spending every bit of spare change he had to watch your face light up that screen. His friends all teased him, reminding him that the pretty girl up there playing a character whose last name was the same as his first tried to kiss him all those years ago, and he ran. He was a scared little boy and he ran.
Only Bucky knows about all of this. He’s the only one Gale ever trusted enough to tell. So, when he sees that you are doing a tour with the USO, the Foxhole Circuit, to be exact. Meaning you’d be performing in England soon enough. Bucky knows it’ll take a miracle to drag his friend along to a USO show. He’s not one for that sort of thing. But, he vows to make it happen.
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Gale does his best not to smack Bucky across the back of the head for dragging him out to this show, but all the boys seemed fairly excited. So, he decides to be quiet and do this small favor for them, getting himself a bottle of pop and settling in with the others to enjoy the show. The lights go up and he listens as the crowd begins to cheer enthusiastically for whoever it is that is about to appear onstage. He leans in to ask Bucky who it is, out of curiosity, but his friend merely shushes him, turning his face back toward the front. The curtains go up and there you are. It’s as though all the air has been stolen from his lungs as he watches you wave to the crowd, that million dollar smile on your face as you make your way to the microphone. Some people say that actresses look different on screen than in real life. He agrees. On screen, you look beautiful. In real life? You look like nothing short of a goddess.
“Good evening, gentlemen, and thank you for the warm welcome. Before anything, I wanted to thank each and every one of you for your service. The people of America owe you our thanks and gratitude for the bravery you show here, so far from home.” Damn. Your voice is so beautiful that it nearly has him swooning, and your words are the sweetest he’s ever heard. You introduce yourself by name, “Some of you may know me from a couple of films I’ve been in.” Still so humble. Still with that little twang to your voice. God… The memories of your shared childhood come flooding back to him like a tidal wave, chasing after the girl in her dirty overalls, hair in two braids, the booming sound of your laugh coming from such a tiny little body. And hearing you now is like a warm blanket on a cold Casper night. It’s like coming home. “I was in a picture called ‘The Wizard of Oz’ a few years back that some of y’all may have seen. I’ll be singing a song from that. This is ‘Over the Rainbow’. I hope that this can serve as a little piece of home for you and remind you that when this is over, your loved ones will be waiting for you back home.”
The room goes deathly silent, everyone present holding their breath as you begin to croon so sweetly into the microphone. Gale feels the goofiest, dopiest smile spreading across his face, a blush coming to his cheeks as he stares up at you, awestruck. He remembers watching you sing this on screen, wondering if he’d ever see that girl with the chipped tooth from down the road again. And here you are, with that dulcet voice.
“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”
Gale is completely enraptured by you. His best friend bites back a smile, patting him on the back, though he barely even notices, too busy gazing at you. Every note that falls from your lips, the way your eyelashes flutter as you lose yourself in the song. Hell, he’s pretty sure he can feel his eyes tearing up.
“Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh, why, can’t I?”
Gale jumps to his feet, clapping louder than anyone present, taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful woman you’ve grown into. He sees the way you smile out at the crowd, the way you take a bow. And it’s that same spirit as when you used to win every talent show back in school. You’re older now, more comfortable in your skin. But it’s you. It’s unmistakably you. And he can hardly believe his luck. It’s like a star has fallen from the heavens right onto his front doorstep.
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Gale waits for you to finish speaking with some of the higher-ranking officers present before approaching you. He feels like that little boy again, palms sweating as he removes his hat, clearing his throat. He never expected to see you again. Not like this. Not looking so gorgeous and radiant. Colonel Huglin nods at him as he approaches, introducing Gale to you as “Major Cleven” as you extend your hand. Your lips part in surprise, eyes lighting up in recognition.
“Gale? That can’t be you.”
He smiles at you, taking your hand in his, the feeling of your soft, smooth palm almost enough to make him faint as he speaks softly, “I could say the same about you.”
You laugh, that same booming laugh from all those years ago that could fill a room, gesturing to your tooth, “Yeah, Daddy was finally able to afford to get it fixed.”
Gale chuckles, admiring that grin of yours, unable to help noticing the way the men around you eye you up and down. Like you’re less of a woman and more like a piece of meat. He feels a flare of possessiveness, jealousy inside him and takes a step closer to you.
“Look at you,” he remarks, “All grown up now.”
“You too,” you say softly, “The uniform suits you, Major Cleven.”
“Your new clothes suit you too,” he teases, “Though I guess I can’t be calling you ‘little menace’ anymore, can I? You’re not that little girl from Casper anymore.”
You slap his chest playfully, making him laugh even harder, “How dare you, Major Cleven? I’ll have you know they had the top accent coaches try to train the accent outta me. But you can take the girl out of Wyoming, you can’t take Wyoming out of the girl.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” he drawls, that familiar accent the two of you share serving as a comfort to you both, “You’re still  that stubborn little girl I knew back when I was thirteen, huh?”
“I am indeed,” you pause before bumping your shoulder against his, the two of you entirely oblivious to the chatter around you, “And you’re still that same boy who ran away when I tried to kiss him on Valentine’s Day.”
Gale’s cheeks flush bright pink as he scratches his cheek, averting his gaze, “Hey, now. That was a long time ago. I was thirteen, what’d you expect my reaction to be?” Gale tries to play the whole thing off as if it isn’t something he’s spent the last thirteen years of his life kicking himself for.
“I’m only teasing,” you grin, “I know you were just a shy boy.”
“Oh, more than shy, I was completely petrified!” Gale admits, remembering the way he stumbled backward, tail between his legs and exited the scene, “I kicked myself for weeks afterwards. You moved away so soon after that and if I’d known…” He trails off wistfully, “I didn’t fully understand what a crush was yet. I had one on you, even though I didn’t realize it till the weekend was over and you were gone.”
“Well, that was the past, right?” You reply calmly, giving him a gentle smile that makes his heart skip a beat, that makes him want nothing more than to lean in and kiss you, right here and now, “How are things with you now? You got a girl waiting on you back home?”
“Things are fine… No girl to speak of,” he says, biting his lower lip before meeting your gaze again. He’s back there, thirteen years ago, standing in front of the girl he wants to kiss but too nervous to speak, “What about you? Never heard anything in the papers about a boyfriend or anything.”
“Naw, nothing like that,” you affirm, “I’m not trying to get hitched anytime soon. After all,” you give him a mischievous smirk, “The last time I tried to kiss someone, he ran away crying!”
Gale runs a hand over his face, the two of you bursting into laughter, his face turning a slightly darker shade of red, “I was young and shy and stupid. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Young, yes. Shy, yes. An idiot? No way.”
He looks into your eyes, his heart filled with so much affection that he thinks it might burst, “Well, I definitely feel like one. Knowing what I should’ve done back then… I feel like an idiot for missing that chance.”
“Maybe you didn’t miss it,” comes your soft reply in that sweet voice of yours as you gaze up at him through your lashes, “Maybe you just had to wait for it to come round again.”
The thought of having another chance with you gives him hope like he’s never felt before. He glances away from you before looking back, a smile playing on his lips.
“You saying you’ve kept a torch for me?”
“Hold on now,” you protest, “I never said anything of the sort!”
“Well, maybe you should,” Gale counters, taking a step closer to you.
One step closer. And if you want him, truly want him, you’ll reciprocate. Which you do within mere seconds, grinning up at him.
“Maybe I should. Care to walk me back to my inn?”
“It would be my absolute pleasure, beautiful.”
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To your credit - and Gale’s - you manage to keep your hands off each other until you get to your room at the inn. The air is charged between the two of you as he walks you to your door, a longing gaze being shared between you as he bids you goodnight and your door begins to close. No later than one second after it shuts, you hear a knocking.
And when you open it, Gale stands there, his cheeks still flushed as he mumbles, “This is me taking the chance that’s come round again.”
And after thirteen years of pining on both your ends, of dreaming of what could be, your lips meet in a searing, passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around him as the two of you move back toward the bed. His body is on top of you, each of you eagerly tearing away at each other’s clothes, wanting nothing more than to feel the other’s bare skin against your own.
Gale’s lips are hungry against yours, and yet, so soft and so gentle, his fingers tracing your sensitive folds once the two of you are bare, nibbling at your bottom lip as he pushes two long digits inside of you. You gasp softly against him as he buries his fingers knuckle deep inside you, moving them in a hooked motion, the pads of his fingers rubbing against spots deep inside of you that you didn’t know existed. The moment is so intimate as you gaze into his eyes, your own hazy with pleasure, cries of his name falling from your lips over and over, your nails raking along the pale skin of his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake as you soak his fingers.
He moves back, his lips moving to your neck, down to your chest, your lower and lower until he reaches the apex between your thighs. Those soft, baby blue eyes of his meet yours, his lips parted in a silent question. You give him a short nod, allowing him to gently nudge your knees apart. Gale licks his lips at the sight of how wet you are for him, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before moving to your core. You gasp, your hands twisting in his hair as he slowly pushes his tongue inside you, the pleasure it brings you almost too much to bear. Gale seems to sense how much you’re enjoying this and lets out a small chuckle before moving his tongue faster and faster, giving broad strokes against your sensitive flesh, making you whine pitifully. Your hips buck up against his as he flattens his tongue against your swollen pearl, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes, your second peak overwhelming you as you swear you feel your soul leave your body, if only for a moment.
Gale seems hesitant to go further, but you pull him back, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you whisper, “I could lose you tomorrow. Forever. I won’t regret giving myself to you tonight. Not when I’ve waited this long.”
“You’re sure?” He whispers back hoarsely, barely able to hold himself back at the plea in your words.
“I’m sure, Gale. I love you.”
Gale smiles, joining his body with yours, slowly pushing inside you, taking care not to cause you any pain as he bottoms out with a low moan of your name, “I love you too.”
He starts off slow, hesitant, as if he’s afraid to hurt you. But you? You wrap your arms, your legs around him, pleading for him to move faster. And what choice does he have but to give you everything you want? Gale’s hips begin rolling against yours, pounding into you at a rapid pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing throughout the room as the oil lamp you burn begins to go out. His lips find yours once again as he kisses you, feverish and desperate, feeling you squeezing around him, your walls hugging him impossibly tight.
“I love you,” he grunts, each thrust growing more difficult, both your end and his own fast approaching, “I love you so much. Gonna come back to you, beautiful. Gonna come right back to you. Gonna have a family with you. Gonna have everything with you.”
“Yes, Gale, please,” you moan softly, his lips pressing to your neck, “I want everything with you too. Please come back to me.”
He feels your body squeeze around him, pulling out after you’ve reached your climax to spill himself against your stomach, not wanting to take any chances while he’s still at war. Wanting to save this for your wedding night, the day he comes back and sweeps you off your feet.
“Promise you’ll never leave me again,” Gale whispers as you tuck yourself under his chin, arms wrapped around each other, legs intertwined, “Promise me you’ll be there waiting for me when I come home.”
“I promise,” you vow, “I promise, Gale Cleven. You’re my rainbow, you know that? My happiness after the storm. I’ll wait for you, Gale.”
“I love you,” he whispers softly against your lips, kissing you once more, “I love you.”
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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love Part Three
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Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, OOC, spoilers for the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial of his feelings, possible angst.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your Internet consumption!
Hey guys, welcome back to another installment of A Wendigo's Violent Love. I am honestly overwhelmed with how much people like this series, and I wouldn't have come this far without the support of this community. I'd also like to give a special thanks to @a-witch-of-writing-desk, @illuminaresblog, and @yourdoorisunlocked with this piece.
Without their insight and assistance in writing this chapter, it probably wouldn't have been posted until early or late April because of my workload.
The scene where Rosie and Alastor reminisce about how they first met was inspired by a comic illustrated by the incredibly talented @theroselens. I won’t spoil what it is exactly, so I will leave the link here.
On another note, the Hobby Horse mentioned here is a direct reference to the weapon in American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns video game.
So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!
Reblog to support content creators! ❤️
Part One
Part Two
Cannibal Town was a place unique in the Pentagram. 
Its streets were lined with buildings that possess a vintage charm in which Alastor cannot help but treasure dearly; after all, it closely resembles the era he lived through in New Orleans. Everything in the town fitted like a tailored glove to the charming cannibal; from its automobiles, the residents’ everyday attire, and even how they greeted each other, tipping their hat off or curtseying with a smile. No one is fully dressed without one~! Who could ever think that it isn’t a lovely place to live in, of all the possible places to live in the Pentagram? Just follow Rosie’s rules and you would be fine~!
But the thought of his delightful friend reminded him that he had not come here for an afternoon stroll, nor to enjoy a delicious cup of coffee at a cafe and not even to see if there were any new meat shops open for business. He needed to speak to Rosie, discreetly. 
She was a sensible woman whose establishment, a modest two-story building stationed right where the town’s plaza, offered consultation and other goods for all to enjoy; from the latest fashion trends to comestics to glass displays of ringed pinky fingers, there was something for everyone. No one had to venture outside of the Pentagram for anything. Rosie knew exactly what the citizens wanted and how to protect them. That’s why she is the leader, the one to talk to if anyone wants to do any business here. To set up shop without her permission…well, it was free for all. 
He strode down Main Street, smiling and politely greeting a charming group of ladies who called out to him in surprise, currently feasting on some hapless soul who had walked through without following the town’s dress code. For a moment, his mind wandered to the impossible notion of you walking beside him, your gloved hand tucked into his arm with a parasol raised over your head so that you did not get a sunburn. 
Alastor suddenly stopped. He felt the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably, his face burning, his blackened heart thunder against his ribs, and worse off…his eyes. He felt them changing to radio dials, followed by the unpleasant sound of a record scratching. And all because he is thinking about you, and what he-he did to you! He kissed you!
This is preposterous! Ridiculous. Why are these feelings simply getting worse and not better? Blast it all! 
He inhaled slowly, deeply, through his nose and out through his mouth, matching it in tandem with his stride. By the time he reached the entrance to Rosie’s Emporium, Alastor felt his quickened pulse steady itself and he was calm again. Pulling the right stained glass open, he went inside and all the way towards the back of the establishment to see his dear friend sitting behind a counter, consulting a distressed young lady. Rosie was calm and cheerful as always, dressed to the nines with a lovely smile as she handed her client a business card. 
Cannibal Town was truly lucky to have a delightful overlord reign over them.
When she looked up, ready to help the next person in the long line, their eyes met. He smiled, waving at her. She immediately perked up, rising from her chair and weaving through the crowd. Well, more like they willingly stepped aside so that their leader could walk to him, but same difference~!
Oh, that was a good joke, ha-ha!
“Oh Alastor, it’s so good to see you!” Rosie exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around in a small circle. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, I was starting to worry that you forgot about me, though I could forgive you if you fill me in on all of the details that’s happened~!” She grinned. “I hear our princess’ hotel is finally finished with those renovations, all ready to accept all the sinners she could dream of! Oh, and Alastor, you truly haven’t let me down this time! The angel flesh we’ve managed to bring back? Well, not only is it absolutely divine in terms of flavor, but people are coming from miles around just to sample some~! ‘Course, with our limited stock, we need to increase the price just a wee bit. Business is booming, and it’s all thanks to you, my friend~!” She blinked, tilting her head to the side. “Hm? Is everything all right, old chap? You’re never this quiet unless those little gears in your mind are turning~!”
Alastor felt the corner of his mouth twitch. No, he told himself fiercely. Keep yourself calm, tell Rosie that there is absolutely nothing wrong and you just thought about stopping by to pass the time, not because you need her help. And even if you do, desperately, you cannot say it here for all of the world to hear!
But the only sound that escaped his mouth was the chirping of radio static. Nothing else. Nothing except the memory of his mouth being burnt from his earlier actions. His eyes widened slightly. Fuck. He was thinking about you again! When will this madness stop?!
He did not know how Rosie knew that he was in fact, not all right, but her jubilant smile softened, and before he realized what was happening, she was pushing him into a corner of the emporium. Two fuschia-colored lounge chairs and a coffee table with a tea tray resting on top of the dark wood, adjacent to the shop’s windows. This was the very same spot where she had dragged Charlie to sit down and ask why Hell’s princess had come to visit her. 
This was…not a good sign. He thought as he sat down in the chair opposite of Rosie’s, watching his old friend gracefully follow his example. Not at all. 
“Now, what’s going on with you? It’s rare for you to be the strong, silent type.” Rosie said, leaning forward. “I heard bits and pieces about what happened between you and that angel in charge of the exterminators, but I’m not gonna pry. You clearly got more on your mind than angels.” 
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Rosie has known Alastor for a long time. He’s a showman with all the flair and music at his beck and call, someone who isn’t all talk with no actions behind them. If there is something he wants, he’ll use his charm to get it before anyone realizes what happened. That’s how he rose through the ranks so quickly when he arrived, after all. But seeing him in a state of stunned silence like this…well, it worried her a bit. So she stood up, removing the tea tray from the coffee table with a snap of fingers, and gestured to Alastor to follow her. 
He did.
Normally her clients were more than happy to discuss their problems within hearing range because it was the usual sort of issues everyone dealt with: a bad-tasting spouse, decoration advice, gossip on the latest trends in the Pentagram and rumors about the other overlords, etc. But Alastor….well, he definitely was not going to open up about his problems just like that. He preferred to keep things private, and there was nothing wrong with that in her opinion. So she led them to the parlor, a cozy little room with vintage furniture and fuschia wallpaper with flowers on them. There were enough enchantments in them to drown out explosions from the outside and keep anyone from hearing their conversation. Of course, no one is that silly to be that disrespectful in her store like that, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
The tea tray popped up on the coffee table, landing with a light clink. Everything was still warm and fresh as she poured the steaming liquid in the cups. One for herself, and one for him. Alastor inclined his head towards her as he accepted the tea. Oh my, the poor dear’s hands were shaking. Now she was starting to get very worried about her friend. 
“Alastor, what’s wrong?” She asked, cradling her teacup and saucer with one hand as she stirred in a pinch of sugar. “Nothing will get past the walls, I swear.  You know me, darling. But I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what’s going on -”
“I kissed her.”
She blinked. “Come again?” She asked. 
“I…kissed someone, Rosie. An associate at the princess’ hotel. We made a deal in my radio tower and I kissed her.” Alastor’s fingers tightened around the handle of his teacup. His ears were pressed flat against his head, his face was flushed bright red and his eyes filtered between red irises and radio dials. Oh, shit. Better take this slowly or he’ll combust. Rosie took a sip of her tea. 
“All right, so you kissed an associate who works at the hotel. Do I know her?”
“Yes.”
“Well, who is she?”
“[First Name].”
“Ah, the girl with the metal arms and the giant…hobby horse?” Rosie thought for a moment. “Couple o’ people said that she was wielding that thing like a baton! Smashed some angel’s heads too!” She chuckled, but noticed the deep sigh leaving her friend as he placed the tea down, reclining against his chair with a gloved hand over his face. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Keep going. Start from the beginning.”
“....She came to the hotel after seeing the commercial everyone made. We were not hiring any staff. Charlie wanted more sinners to come and try to redeem themselves. But [First Name] was stubborn. She and Vagatha did an interview and decided that the best thing they could offer to her was being a groundskeeper. Someone who could keep the place nice and neat, gardening and landscaping. The conditions Charlie laid out to her were that she needed to participate in the activities and make actual progress in changing her ways. In exchange, she’d be given food and board. I tell you, from the moment I saw her, I thought she’d be another form of entertainment~! Imagine, someone who can’t crack an egg, someone who struggles with day to day tasks because she has prosthetics from the Great War! She’s killed people, Rosie, she’s had front row seats to the depravity of humanity and she still believes Charlie’s dream will work! What a joke! What an absolute fool!” He laughed. The sound bounced off of the walls, sending a small chill down Rosie’s spine. 
Alastor wasn’t laughing like when someone tells a dad joke he finds greatly funny or makes an ass out of themselves. He sounded….hollow. Confused. 
“So why is that I feel so terrible for what I had done, Rosie?” He asked. “She had stumbled upon a secret she should have never known and I made a deal with her to keep her quiet. I did what I needed to protect myself. But I can’t get the memory of how she looked at me out of my mind! She was angry, Rosie, and keep in mind that this is a girl who doesn’t show her emotions as easily as others, and she showed me how angry she was towards me! She was disappointed, resentful, and I don’t know what compelled me to kiss her hand but I did because there was some silly notion in the back of my mind, thinking that it would comfort her! How could a kiss do that?! It makes no sense, what I’m feeling makes no sense!” He suddenly straightened himself up in the chair, and he removed his hand from his eyes….just for Rosie to see the frustration and desperation in them. 
“What’s wrong with me, Rosie?” He asked. “Tell me there’s something I can do to forget what I’m feeling right now or I fear I won’t be able to escape this madness!”  
“I don’t think you’d be able to, my friend.” She said. Rosie knew what he was going through because she had been in the same situation too, far too many times and it was because of these experiences that everyone came to her for advice on romance. “Al, my dear silly man…you’re in love with this girl. And it’s pretty clear that this love runs deep. You wouldn’t feel terrible for what you did if you didn’t care about her, right?” 
He looked at her, stunned. “I…beg your pardon, old friend? I….care for her? I love her?” 
Rosie nodded. “You do. And you fucked up your chance at building a proper relationship with her because of this deal you made.”
“That was insurance!”
“And it destroyed her trust in you. You said she was a soldier, right?” When Alastor nodded, she continued. “Well, soldiers need comrades they can trust to watch their backs as much as they need accurate information on enemy forces. You were her comrade, someone she could trust and now…she can’t. That’s why she was angry with you.” She tilted her head. “But it’s up to you if you want to rectify the mistake you made…or let it be the reason why she may never see you in the same way as you see her.” 
“Then teach me, Rosie.” He seethed, leaning forward as he slammed a fist against the table, causing the tea tray to rattle. “Teach me how to forget these feelings because I do not want nor need to love someone to live a fulfilling afterlife. Love makes a person weak! A smile is a more valuable tool than love! It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures what comes your way, you are in control!” 
Rosie glared pointedly at him. “Mister, you are most definitely not in control. If you ask me, stifling these feelings towards [First Name] are just going to make things worse.” She sighed. “Do you remember how we first met? You were a fresh face, the newest overlord around the block after you overthrew all the rest. But the big, bad Radio Demon couldn’t even find the meeting room and asked me for directions with that cute little smile of yours. Gotta tell ya, you were a sweetie then, though Carmilla back then…well, she didn’t know what to think of you.” She smiled, leaning forward and placed her hand on top of Alastor’s. “Asking for help and guidance doesn’t make someone weak, old friend. And it isn’t bad to feel love towards someone, even if you are an ace in the hole.” She winked.
 His smile twitched. “I really wish you would tell me what that phrase means.”
“Where’s the fun in that? It’s entertaining to see you keep guessing every time I say it!” Rosie laughed. “So…what are you going to do?”
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“Words are cheap, but actions speak the truth. If you’re serious about serenading this girl, then you need your actions to reach her. Keep me posted, okay? You’ve got this.”  That was what Rosie had told him as she walked him out of the emporium, giving him a brief hug and a warm smile before retreating back inside. Now, here he is, walking back to the hotel and back to you.
He had no idea how he was going to face you after what he had done. He gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from you and be out of his afterlife for good, Rosie….had been correct. Eliminating what he felt would only make things worse, especially if Husker or that pint-sized fool who calls himself the King of Hell try to steal you away from him before he could do anything. 
Shaking his head, Alastor continued his trek through the city and towards the Pentagram’s outer borders, on the hillside where the fluorescents of the hotel glowed in the distance like a lighthouse in a raging storm at sea.
Blessedly the lobby was devoid of any residents or staff when he had returned, so he had assumed that everyone was at dinner or had gone to bed. It wasn’t too late in the afternoon if he recalled correctly, but time was difficult to keep track of in Hell unless one had a pocket watch or one of Vox’s silly little devices, neither of which he had on his person. In an instant he teleported himself to the hotel’s western wing, ready to freshen a bit before cooking up a meal for himself to enjoy in the privacy of his room when he felt a thrum of power vibrate beneath his feet. 
He glanced down, raising an eyebrow at the darkness on the floor before the shadow grinned, showing off a void of bright crimson for a mouth. Ah, yes. This little traitor. Of all the ones he has in his possession, this is the culprit responsible for the crime of stalking you without his consent. 
“Well, well, where have you been today~?” 
The shadow chuckled darkly, rising up from the floor and floated in the air, twisting its smoky body around him like a snake…no. It’s as if this little shit is performing a little dance of his own. But what for exactly? What is the grand occasion? Has someone died? The shadow shook its head, still grinning and conjured a sphere of green flames in its hands. Inside of it, Alastor could see you and Niffty in the kitchen cooking dinner and then the image disappeared, shifting to a scene where the two of you are putting ingredients together for…apple pies? Alastor gritted his teeth. 
He’s gone not even for a day and Lucifer Morningstar has the audacity to make the calls on desserts. Blasphemy! This is absurd! UNACCEPTABLE!
The shadow’s flames then evaporated into nothingness…and in its hand was a single hair ribbon. Your hair ribbon. Swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, he carefully took it from the shadow’s hand, cradling it in the center of his palm. To have something of yours to take for himself, and covet and yearn in silence until the time was ripe was the only method he had to satiate his darker hunger.
To think something as silly as your scent could tide something as fickle as his temper over was baffling, but it was comforting nonetheless.
Alastor’s thumb stroked the worn-out fabric, admiring its crimson hue beneath the fluorescent light of the hotel hallways. Before he could stop himself, the Radio Demon pressed his lips against it. The scent of cinnamon and ink made his mouth water, hungry for more than just a hair ribbon to pocket as a trophy. But like all good things and in the art of being a clever serial killer, patience is key. It shouldn’t be too difficult to lure his prey into his arms. After all, he is a true gentleman.
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Taglist: @rorusena @alastor-simp @imperfectbloodmoon @anielly-2010 @bones4thecats @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @oucx @ang3lofdivinity @tonightwrites @chewbrry @horrorgirlshell @bladeismine @yourdoorisunlocked @no1sillybilly @mentallyunstablenoodle @solandis-does-stuff @facelessfionna @tired-of-life-86 @yandere-dark-cupid @pinkgoldweebgirl @lovely-nightmares @luthefriendlywitch @asianfrustration13 @lunaramune @lanxianschoenheit @zenix108 @solesurvivorjen @kanroji-san @whenitgrowsbright @aconfusedwonderland @candyladycry @ozzersauce @sleepy-hutao @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @swallowtail-lotus @circeyoru
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bearsintreesofficial · 12 hours
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hello! i am going to be completely honest - we need your help.
next month, we are going on our biggest uk headline tour yet. we are being joined by people we admire deeply. it is going to be the best show we have ever done. and to be blunt - we would like as many people as possible to know about it.
to us, even getting to do this tour feels like a miracle. ykno, it was originally scheduled for last october. our london show would have been callum's birthday! and it was meant to coincide with releasing our new album. however, we had to push the album back. so the tour got pushed back. our spirits were dampened. there were people behind the scenes who did not respect us. so, we decided to respect ourselves. nearly six months later, we are sitting on the best album of our lives. we funded it ourselves and we are releasing it ourselves. we are going to own it, wholly. and that feels SO damn good.
i do not mean this post as a sad story or as a complaint - i am incredibly proud of where we are and what we have done. i just want to explain why it took so long to get here. there are some things we cannot accomplish without your help. selling out this tour and proving that we are the best damn dirtbag boyband in the world is one of those things.
so i am asking you, please - reblog this post. tag mutuals who don't have tickets yet, or mutuals you think would take a chance on us. boost this post as far as you can. whether you live in the uk or not, we want this tour to be inescapable. for everyone to know it is here, and for everyone to feel welcome.
selling out this tour means we can do bigger shows in more parts of the uk later, and allows us to play more shows in EVERY corner of the world too. it proves the point that we are here to stay, that we can do this on our own, and that y'all know how to be louder than the rest.
we promise to give you the best show of your lives, if you promise to give us everything you have.
thank you for reading.
uk/eu tickets are on sale here.
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hotvintagepoll · 2 days
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Propaganda
Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!
Margaret Lockwood (The Wicked Lady, The Lady Vanishes)— Gorgeous feisty funny talented and the sexiest stubborn face ever committed to film. And if people haven't seen the original Wicked Lady they need to be introduced to a glorious poly highway romp of a film. When a woman outsneers James Mason you know she has sex appeal!
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Margaret Lockwood:
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Barbara Stanwyck:
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"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"
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"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."
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"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."
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"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."
youtube
"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."
"She was part of my gay awakening"
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"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"
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greywritesthings · 3 days
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overwhelmed
Spencer Reid x Autistic!Reader
Warnings: description of overwhelm? sensory overload if there's any more let me know!
A/N: not sure what the inspo what behind this but here it is, i am working on another longer fic so this is a filler for the mean time, likes, reblogs and comments appreciated! Im autistic so i have a bunch of stuff I'd like to put in for a second (possible series?). For specific senarios ect ect please feel free to send them to my ask box!!
Requests are open for Spencer Reid! Disabled & multilingual characters encouraged
Part 2
Masterlist!
The buzz of the air con unit, the incessant hum if the fluorescent lights, the constant chatter of the co workers you were unfamiliar with all came together to create an almost physically painful environment. You adored working in the BAU but these days where it was lengthy paperwork done on painfully bright computers with the general hubbub of the office made you want to scream. It often ended with Hotch sending you home with paper files to do with spencer but he was off today and you were still intimidated by Rossi so couldn't ask him. Spencer would normally ask for the both of you but he was out with Hotch, they were doing a local death row interview together. You were exhausted and it wasn't even eleven am. You decided to stop by Penelope's office who had made it as sensory friendly as possible once she found out about your autism, something you had appreciated immensely, especially for days like today. “Hey pen? Can i stay in here for a bit?” You ask, walking into the dim room. “Sure thing sugar, you can stay in here for the rest of the day, Rossi told me to come get you for a thing anyway so come over here my fine furry friend.” she beacons you over to the seat next to her. 
You couldn't have gotten out of the office faster. Penelope had helped as much as possible but the sensory overload was too much from nine am and you haven't been able to do anything about it aside from chew on some ice every so often. 
The idea of taking the subway home made your skin crawl, but you hadn't brought your car to the office this morning, driving was also being far too overwhelming. You would have called Spencer but you had no idea when he would be home given death row inmates either got really chatty or liked to drag on the interview. You decide to just sit on the curb for a while allowing the cooler night air to calm you down enough so you can try and get on the metro without crying. 
You weren't sure how long you were sitting there, legs curled tightly against you, head resting against your knees and back pressed against the wall but you flinched when someone walked up and tapped you on the shoulder and scrambled to stand up. “How long have you been out here?” the stranger asks in the darkness. As your eyes adjust you realise its Hotch, meaning Spencer is probably here too. You just shake your head with a pleading look hoping he wouldn't ask you any more questions tonight. “Spencer is in the SUV, I've told him to take that home to save you both taking the metro tonight. Go home, tomorrow's paperwork will be dropped off at your house.He didn't let you get a word in edgewise so you just nod, thank him and wish him and Jack a goodnight, setting off towards the remaining SUV with the lights on. 
“Hi honey, you okay?” Spencer asks as you hop into the car, throwing off your blazer before settling in and pulling on your belt. “Bad day?” he asks again trying to gauge how your day went without getting you to talk. You just nod as you reach across to put a hand on his thigh to try and signal that you were okay, just exhausted in every sense of the word. You tap his thigh three times then five, three to say I love you then five to encourage him to talk about his day and not worry about rambling even if you didn’t respond. 
Once you get home you drop your things and make a beeline for the couch, flopping face down and screaming into the pillows. “Bath, shower or later sweetheart?” He knew you wouldn’t go to bed without showering but also knew you were too overwhelmed to do anything that required mental effort right now given the whine you let out into the cushions at his question. “I'm going to order some Thai, then do you want to get changed and we can watch a movie? He suggests. “Nada en inglés, por favor” is all you mumble back. He was used to your disdain of English, despite it being your first language. You knew bits and pieces of French, Spanish and German prior to meeting Spencer but since meeting him you had come to learn some Korean and Russian. “Okay dear, i'll go order, you get changed.” he says as he leaves the room going to the phone. You drag yourself off the sofa across the apartment to the bedroom. Grabbing Spencer's caltech sweatshirt and joggers from the bed that you had left there this morning and throwing your suit in the hamper to be washed tomorrow.
You spent the rest of the night curled up under the weighted throw Penelope had knitted you for Christmas on your first anniversary at the BAU and watching old Russian movies. Spencer played with your hair until you fell asleep contemplating how he was going to get you to bed without waking you up.
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leonw4nter · 2 days
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Silver Screen
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RE2R!Leon x F!Reader modern AU (The 300 followers special!)
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You walk into the room, an iPad opened to the latest installment of the fanfiction series you’ve been following for quite some time carried in the nook of your arm and salted caramel boba tea in the other. Setting the sugary drink on the table beside your spot on the couch, you temporarily put your iPad down to get into a comfortable position in the small pillow and blanket nest you’ve made for yourself. With a pleased sigh and an excited grin, you take a long sip of the beverage before finally picking the iPad up and have the coziest time of your life.
You were having a solid few hours of the coziest time of your life until you heard some soft sniffling coming from somewhere in the living room along with the faint pads of feet against the wooden floorboards. You look up, your eyes finally focused on something else other than pixels that formed words on a bright screen. There, you see him: your roommate Leon whose face is in his hands, ears red, and what seems to be muffled crying– no, sobbing as he walks around in circles.
Concerned for your friend and roommate, you get up from your place and walk up to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
You place a hand on his broad back, patting and gently stroking it back and forth. Leon finally lifts his head up, wiping off his tears with the sleeve of his dark green sweatshirt.
“This author was not playing around, ended up crying.” is all he said which prompted you to try and hold back a giggle. So he’s been reading fics too, you think to yourself.
“Can I read it?” you ask, to which he nods and fishes his phone out from the pocket of his plaid pajama pants.
“Lemme find it real quick,” he responds. He’s still sniffling, the waterline of his eyes occasionally brimming with a new batch of salty tears before he blinks them away. He finally finds the fic he’s been reading, handing you his phone while he walks over to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water to stop hiccuping.
“You sure you’re fine?” you call out before you read.
“Yeah! Fic was just really… it was just something!”
You start reading the fic, your eyes trailing on the words on the screen. The words seemed familiar so you guessed that Leon had stumbled on a fic you’ve read before. Wrong! It was your fic, a fic you finished updating around last night. No wonder it was too familiar. You stared at the phone in your hand with wide eyes like a deer in headlights, a child caught with a jar of sweets in her hands when she shouldn’t have been eating sugary things. Your gaze drifted to Leon in the kitchen, who was still somehow trying to control his breathing while chugging down water like his life depended on it. He didn’t seem to notice the sudden drain of color in your face so you continue to scroll down, checking if he left any likes or reblogs or comments on your work. Another bombshell dropped: he’s the top reader of your work and the one that’s been keyboard smashing in the comments, along with the… soulful, emotional reblogs. His account is the one that’s religiously kept up with whatever you post, whether it be new fics or just random vents. BiohazardBard, the sweet account who comments nice stuff like “Don’t worry about us, take some time for yourself! U got this!!” and reblogs with tags like “UEIXGOFQWV CRIED SO HARD U DONT EVEN KNOW IEWBRXXR”on angst fanfiction is your roommate and also your crush.
You stand there in silence, mouth ajar as you continue to stare blankly into his phone, unable to process the fact that he’s aware of your online persona but he doesn’t know that it’s you. You exit the app and turn his phone off, walking over to him in the kitchen and give him pats to his shoulder to really make sure that he’s okay. If he’s calmed down then you’re not– internally, that is.
“That fic uh… it truly was something,” you sympathetically say. “Guessed that the part where uh- she leaves him was the one that got the water works going.”
“Oh um nope, it’s the part where things were slowly spiraling down. Got anxious for them then just full-on bawled when shit hit the fan,” he explains with a sheepish smile. “This fic is just bars, I love it so much actually– Might print a copy of this to take to work when I can’t be on my phone.”
To have your fics reblogged and your account be compared to the unburned version of the Library of Alexandria is one thing but to hear your number one dedicated reader say that to your face? After a breakdown? Nothing will ever top that and he doesn’t even know he just ugly-cried in front of the author he keeps up with.
“Imagine someone coming up to the front desk to be like: “hi someone stole my bike” or something and they call you over and their resident cop is just red as hell and all slobbery,” you joke.
“Shut up! I’ll try not to cry, I’m going to build immunity,” he half-jokes before taking another gulp of water.
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You lay awake at night, staring into the dark nothingness of your room. Your feelings are all convoluted– joy, fear, embarrassment, amusement, excitement– and it’s hard to pinpoint what is ruling over you. Finding out that the man whom you’ve been hinting your feelings for is obsessed with your writing? In complete adoration with the products of your mind and skill? Hopefully he doesn’t suss out on your more romantic and sappy fics, inspired by real-life events you experienced with him (with more romantic and glittery bits). It doesn’t take even a minute to decide that you’ll be keeping this secret from him in order to not make anything weird between you two. Leon already seemed embarrassed after having been caught sobbing like that by a mere set of pixels on screen so you decided that this would be best for both of you. Unable to sleep due to the combined combination of boba tea and adrenaline, you sit up and reach for your phone because reading a fic or two before bed doesn’t hurt, right?
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It’s been a few days after the little “incident” and Leon’s been more open with showing you some fics he enjoys, occasionally giving his own reviews and recommendations for you. He’s still the same guy that keyboards smashes on your comments and on his reblogs, which makes you giggle since you know who’s been sending you that. He finally came home from a long day of work only to do some more work outside of office hours, catching up on reports that some absent cops left behind and was handed over to him. Making himself a cup of coffee, he stretches his arms and hands before typing away on his dingy laptop for the next 3 hours. A few hours later, you hear some giggling coming from him so you bring your head up and spot his head once again buried in his hand, ears red but from giggling this time. He swings his legs, accidentally nudging the leg of a chair so he yelps a bit, which tugs a little chuckle from you. His ears pick up on the jolly noise coming from you, his face glowing when he sees you smile (or are you just seeing things?). He asks for you to come over to him and points at something on the screen of his laptop.
“Thought you wanted uninterrupted time for work,” you ask.
“I’m on a break, I think I deserve it,” he confidently says. “Anyways, take a look at this. Starting from here until here.”
You expected that you’d see another fic of yours but it was from another account’s instead, which disappointed you a slight bit but not that you minded too much. You finished reading the lines, the corners of your lips tugged skyward with a subtle splash of baby pink tinting your cheeks.
“Damn, that’s sweet,” you comment. “Gosh, I want what they have.”
“Me too. Like, hey God I’m still here ya know! I’ve seen what you’ve done for others!” Leon adds on.
Um, hey Leon! I’m literally right here! Do you need glasses? I’m right beside you!
Since you two were having a nice moment sharing fics and fic lines, you decided to show Leon some lines from fics you love.
“Take a look at this one,” you say as you hand him your iPad. “His description of her had me clawing at walls and biting my fist.”
Leon takes the gadget from your hands with care and places them beside his laptop, reading the lines. He reads in silence and it appears that he’s going over the line again and again.
“Who wrote this?” he asks.
“Uh, scottfree.”
“I don’t think I’m getting out of this scot-free,” Leon jokes. “Pun intended.”
“And why is that…?”
“Because I wrote that.”
You look at him in confusion, two neurons in your brain making a very, very, very slow connection in this moment.
“You’re scottfree?! And also BiohazardBard?!,” you exclaim. So he’s also scottfree, the writer whose lines you’ve screenshotted takes up about a third of all images on your phone. Amazing.
“How do you know I’m BiohazardBard?!?!,” he exclaims even louder as he gets up from his seat.
“Because um– the fic you cried over some days ago is mine! And I saw your account name and profile and I found out that you’re one of my loyal readers!”
He looks like he’s ready to wither away into nothing, become dust and probably get sucked in a vacuum cleaner.
“God that’s embarrassing,” he quietly mumbles. “Tell me: is that fic the first fic you’ve read from me? My other account, I mean– the one where I post fics.”
“Scottfree? Um, no… I’ve read like– quite a lot, actually.”
He stares blankly at you, unsure on how to absorb the information dumped on him. He’s only got a half-asleep half of a brain cell now since the rest of them were allocated on getting those papers done with the other half of the remaining brain cell, which he thinks is now gone.
“While we’re at this, um. You must know that the descriptions I write for the love interests are usually what I wished I could say to you or how I’d describe you. When he’s telling her how magical it is to be around her presence? I’ve daydreamed one too many times about really saying that you,” he quietly confides in you. “If I want to write another story, I hope I could write it alongside you.”
They really weren’t playing with slow-burn romance where both of them are too shy to confess their feelings. It’s happening to me right now! I’m in the confession part of the story!
“I guess it’s a writer thing for writers to include parts of someone they like in their works because I did the same thing for my works, actually. If I wanna come up with a real sweet line, I just think about you and I wish that I’d say these to you. Maybe I’ll wish that whatever I write the love interest to say, I’ll hear you say them to me too and uh… manifesting is real I guess, I dunno,” you awkwardly laugh. “Guess the feeling’s mutual, huh.”
“Yeah. Wow, this is… this is amazing. Real amazing,” Leon softly says.
“Mhm.”
“So…”
“So… what now…?”
“I guess this makes as mutuals in terms of accounts and feelings," the blond grins.
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NOTE - Once again, thank you to the lovely 310 people who decided to follow me and keep up with whatever I post :)) I first came up with this while I was washing my cats' bowls and I intended for it to be a drabble but I just decided to make it a fic in the end. Still working on other reqs rn so expect some more posts in the coming days <33 If your usernames are somehow the same as the usernames that I made up for this fic then I didn't mean that and it's just a coincidence 😭🙏 Also y'all gotta hear me out on Francis Mosses from That's Not My Neighbor, he's cute :3 Judging from my mlist, I'm not sure if I love RE2R Leon hmm I'm not too sure 🤔 Anyways, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).
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softshuji · 13 hours
Text
𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟏 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈
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Title: The Hanma's
Summary: Hanma and you know those intimate moments are few and far between. But you always find a way to make the most of them. Back to masterlist here!
Cw: fem!reader, established relationship, reader and Shuji have kids, some suggestive content, pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, princess, mama, doll),some mentions of violence, this is kinda self indulgent lol. Reblogs appreciated!
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Hanma Shuji has a morning voice like no other. It’s gritty, rough, laced with the aftermath of disuse and sleep, cigarettes and alcohol. It’s gravelly, inflected with the slight slur of fatigue, but it rolls over your body in such a way that makes the heat in your stomach thrum with energy. 
He swears the nights are deliberately shorter when he’s at home.
The mornings arrive too fast and the covers are pulled too quickly and he winces a little when the cold draught slips past the door left ajar and he thinks this is maybe the karma for spending so much time at work and never enough at home.
He pulls the blanket over his head and groans, his head of tousled curls now lopsided and flattened against the soft downy pillow.
Your arms come around him instinctively, your breath warm against the pronounced clavicles, the hollow of his throat flexing when he swallows.
The sleep grit is crusting in the corners of his eyes and he pulls up one hand to rub at them, the other pulling you closer against his chest, secretly relishing in the sigh of contentment he hears when you press a chaste and soft kiss to the dip in his collarbones.
‘Mmh Shuji,’ you say, your voice caught in the confines of fabric and cotton and sleep. The nicotine and alcohol, gunpowder and metal has left a scent on his skin, imprinted into the fine hairs that dance along his navel and you brush a hand along the toned ridge of his stomach, the muscles flexing under your soft touch. 
He loves this part of coming home the most, (among other things). The part where you sigh, his name leaving your parted lips and it sounds like a promise, like a heady rush of adrenaline, and your murmurs against his neck are the food for his daydreams in his absence.
‘Don’t wanna get up.’ A mumble that kisses your cheeks like a breeze, an inked hand snaking its way around the small of your back, past the harsh bruises, purpling spots that are red and pink smudges on your skin left just a few hours before under your loose shirt, past the bite marks that now rub against the swell of his bicep when it comes to rest on your shoulder. 
‘I know, but you gotta. We said we’d take them out, remember?’ Despite this, you make no move to leave, opting to bury your face in the curve of his neck, your lips moving over the telltale marks you’d left of your own, still lightly singing with a pulse of barely perceptible pain. Because Hanma Shuji knows you are as insatiable as he is, that your appetite for each other knows no bounds, that you drown in each other nearly every night, climbing out of the current when you come down from your high only to throw yourself in again. 
‘Mhm, you're giving me orders now Sweetheart?’ And the other inked hand comes to tilt your face to his, a thumb brushing the stray eyelash on your cheek, parted lips forming an O that he thinks is worth dying for. He thinks you are worth dying for, a single avenue of repentance, his single saving grace. 
You frown and tut under your breath, rolling your eyes in mock exaggeration, all faux annoyance and indignation. ‘You promised.’ You poke his side for effect, and it’s pathetic to admit your heart does a tiny leap when he giggles, teeth nipping at the flesh of your ear.
‘I know , I know, ‘m getting up birthday girl.’ And he cracks his eyes open to see you swirling a pattern onto the ink of sin, your eyes lidded and brow pinched as you fight the sleep still threatening to take you under. I love you, painted with your finger onto the same hands that the blood splashes on when he pulls a trigger, crusted under his nails and harder to wash off since the day he had met you. And smiling, always smiling at him, no matter how bad, no matter how many times he knows he breaks your heart. 
'Birthday girl huh?' you say now, a teasing and sleepy grin curling at your lips as you rest your cheek in his upturned band, big palm coming up to brush at your cheek. 
'Mhmm, my Princess's special day isn't it?'
'It is, you got something planned for me?'
'Might do, I guess you'll have to wait and see won't you?' 
You feign a tut under your breath. 'No clues?'
'No, be patient Pretty Girl.' And he brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek, presses down on your lips till your teeth lightly bite down on it. 
'Mhm please?' You say now, a hand moving to rove over his bare chest, fingers tracing the whirl of fine hairs on his navel before he's catching your wrist between his thumb and forefinger, bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside. 
'Behave yourself Sweetheart.' 
You huff playfully and It hits him for the barest of moments, how often he comes close to losing this. How the blood he’s wrought could catch up with him one day, the pile of bodies he has gladly crushed to reach his desires could grab his ankle and pull him down and that would be it. And you would break trying to put yourself together again. Maybe it’s selfish to keep you knowing that, knowing he could be cut from you like a loose end any day now. But, he is insatiable with you, redeemed by the constancy and feel of you when the weight is heavier than usual, when the burden threatens to-
‘Shuji?’ 
‘Mhm?’ His eyes are pulled to yours again, your bare face free of makeup, lips soft and warm and just as inviting as they usually are. 
‘You were lost in thought for a second. Everything okay?’ 
He knows you mean it from the heart, the heart you carry for the both of you, a necessary recompense for the blessing of being his, because a man like Hanma Shuji won’t get far carrying his heart on his sleeve. So you do it for him.
‘Fine Sweetheart,’ he says and tucks it all away, the insecurity, the thoughts, the edge that has softened since knowing you, cut glass that no longer stings or slices when touched. Today is about you, he thinks. His Princess, his Pretty girl, and all the ways he can show you he knows it all- the things you do, the ways you care that he never mentions,  hair swiped back when he bleeds out on the sofa, towels pressed to his forehead as he mumbles in fitful sleep. 
And then it happens.
The door flies open and your head lifts to see your two springy children burst into the room, their curls bouncing as they race across the carpet.
They climb onto your bed, all short limbs and smiles and toothy grins, giggles and onesies and smelling of sleep, and they jump into your arms, tucked safely between you and the man you love the most. He laughs, full and beautiful, laced with the sluggishness of the sleep that’s still threatening to pull him under and pulls all four of you safely to his side.
You look at his hands as he playfully tosses your daughter into the air, her giggles and grins matched by his, and you think of all the blood and grit they’ve seen, all the splashbacks and gunpowder that he’s washed off in grimy bathrooms to come back to you time and time again. The same hands that now hold your children with a gentleness he doesn’t know he’s capable of, hands that hold yours and trace circles along the knuckles. In the safety of these four baby blue walls, with the sunlight pouring in through the slat in the window, falling onto the baby blue carpet, it is almost easy to believe you are just like any other family. 
‘How’s my little man?’ Your Husband says and winks conspiratorially at your son nestled into your side. 
‘Are we still going out today? You promised!’ Your son says, a frown creasing tiny brows that look so much like his Father’s that it knocks the wind from your chest. It’s almost terrifying to see the resemblances sometimes, the dark tousled curls that bounce when they pull their heads through tiny shirts, golden eyes that swirl just shy of copper. Both your twins that is, spitting images of their Father come to life and a sprinkling of you somewhere in the middle. If you were to ask him, he'd say they looked more like you. You and your winning smile and all the light it brings that now lives safely in their tiny hearts. 
‘I don’t know, have you been good for Mama? Both of you? It's her birthday y'know,’ he says and grins when they nod fervently, pleading eyes that turn to you to back their statement, wrapping their tiny arms around you with a whispered 'Happy Birthday Mama,' and It occurs to him, at moments like this, how greedy he has been to ask and want something that he’s spent so long denying to others. To grab at a life, snatch it from death’s hands, and take it for himself. He has a polaroid of the four of you in his wallet somewhere, behind cards and receipts, numbers of mob bosses, gang leaders, other people whose crimes are too heinous to name, and you safely at the back, tucked away for him and him only, as if this simple act is enough to protect you from the spray of bullets and contents of shady clubs.
‘Come on kids, go get changed.’ And your children scurry off, scrambling off the bed to run to their rooms, excitedly chattering, their curls disappearing through the doorway, voices high with laughter.
He flops back onto the bed and reaches absent-mindedly for the glasses thrown haphazardly onto the bedside table the night before, running a hand down his tired face. It never fails to feel foreign to him on days like today. When the sun is at its zenith, the watery bask of its light leaking into the room, and he wonders at what point his priorities changed, what point he started to think of you more often than he wanted to admit, some time in the past when he was younger and sporadic and chaotic. And while it hasn’t left, that zing of boyhood curiosity, wonderment and thirst for drama, he knows some part of him has softened enough to do this, to not flinch from family, to run his hand over the indentation on the soft cotton sheets, an imprint that remembers you as well as he does.
‘Shuji? Baby?’ And again, like a song, your voice pulls him from his reverie.
‘Yeah?’ 
A beat, your hand moving to hold his, to pull it to your heart, where the memory of his name lives, where he has etched it into your ribcage. ‘Thank you, for doing this I mean. For taking the time out for them and me.’
He doesn’t expect it to hurt like this, the sharp and visceral drop of something into his stomach, and he falters, the quirk of his Cheshire cat grin slipping into something more concerned, something more sombre. 
‘I didn’t mean- I mean I know you’re working hard, I’m grateful Shu’ baby- I am,’ you say, and the rambles of all the pent-up frustrations, nights made lonely by his absence, the whir of the refrigerator and the drone of nighttime Tv the only company, tumbles out before you can stop it. ‘But I miss you sometimes, and the kids-they miss you too. We all do.’
You can’t pretend that the calls made between meetings, between surveillance on the road, between drives from one shady establishment to the other are enough to suffice, to sate the need for him and sometimes it’s so clear, so sharp, that the pain of his absence cuts clean across your lungs.
‘I know…I miss you too, Pretty Girl.’ Said against the crown of your head, his lips slightly dry, chapped and still as full of love for you as they always are. He gets it, you know he does. It’s in the way he sends random messages to you in the small hours, when he knows you’re asleep and he’s watching a rat sell them out and he misses you in an urgent way, in a way that feels like an ache in his chest, the punch of it that hurts more than a kick could.
‘Come Home to us every time okay? Not just today, not just on my birthday, but every day,' You say, because it scares you to think otherwise, because you could run your hand over every ridge and bump of him and name every scar, every mark and it’s beginnings, because you could kiss the eyelashes from his cheek, and spend days and hours counting the calluses on his hands and it would still not be enough to bring him home to you every day. 
‘I will, y’know me Doll, I never lose.’ He knows It’s more for you than him. 
‘I mean you got your ass handed to you by Draken when-’
‘Well excuse me,’ he says, all faux annoyance, the grin curling at the edge of his perfect mouth. ‘What happened to you saying you missed me?’
You giggle, hiding against his chest, your hair tickling the collarbones that still betray the memory of your heated moments just a few hours prior.
‘I do! I always do. You’re like… my hero.’
‘That’s a new one, Doll.’
‘Like it?’
‘Mhm, y’know what I like even more?’
‘What?’
‘I like when you moan my name all sweet-’
‘Shuji?!’ And you slap a hand over his mouth, warm breath on your palm and the sound of his laughter muted and muffled as you spare a glance towards the door slightly ajar. 
And he smiles at you, softened, warming as you pull your hand away, pressing a kiss to the wrist he’s grabbed, tender and heartfelt. 
And you fall and tumble into love for him all over again.
A/n: I wouldn't be me without a self indulgent birthday fic for myself and about my darling boy, the apple of my eye, my heart and soul. (It's the 28th in case anyone wants to know ;)) thank you everyone always.
taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @rinnndoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick
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arrowfleur · 11 hours
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“What was that for?”
Some more thoughts on Darlin’s love languages and Sam’s HBS. Part 1 observations.
Disclaimer: I wrote this last summer so if all of this seems really obvious now that’s why but I’m just posting my drafts and I still like it 😌
(Also thank you to @darlin-collins for reminding me I wanted to write this when you reblogged that old Darlin love languages post of mine! I remember you said that you wouldn’t mind if I talked about it for hours and so I hope this and the next post serve you well <3 )
To me it is clear that touch is one of Darlin’s main love languages . In their relationship, Darlin’ initiated the first touch (besides healing) when asking to hug Sam. The first video with the pair in a non-platonic relationship, Darlin strokes their fingers across Sam’s chest and initiates their first kiss, whereas Sam clarify’s his feelings with words.
Darlin’ also does not hesitate in hugging Asher nor David when the contact is offered, instead eagerly using it as a way to receive/give comfort.
Which makes it all the more devastating when you remember how long they went without it/ how they used physical touch to harm themselves. The way that as soon as Sam asked if there was anything he could do for them in the video after the David debacle Darlin straight away asks if he could give them a hug?!?! 😫😫
Whenever Sam compliments Darlin’ there is very rarely a gap where they’d reply but there is commonly a kiss straight after. Which shows that they use physical touch to display emotion and communicate as well.
For example; Straight after Sam’s famous ‘you just feel so right, like I didn’t know it could’ and ‘a lot of things come easy with you’ lines.
When Sam assures them that it’s okay to rest and relax when they moved in with him, Darlin’ once again kisses him straight after and then proceeds to move onto his lap.
In Sam’s HBS 22 they kiss Sam (to comfort him) straight after he confides in not wanting to burden them with the fact he can’t go out in the sunlight (at 12:47) and straight after he compliments how they look (at 16:40, as a thank you).
So when Darlin’ kissed Sam at the nightclub to stop him from overthinking and he responded with ‘what was that for?’ It was a genuine question. He knows they use physical touch to communicate and he didn’t understand what they meant by it, since to him there was no comfort or thanks necessary.
And I just think that’s cute as shit.
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auteurdelabre · 14 hours
Text
So Much to Lose PART SEVEN dark!Joel x f!Reader
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story summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.
rating: 18+
tags: Oral sex (m receiving), allusions to female masturbation, brief description of animal violence, angst, praise, dirty talk, nickname: Good Girl, mentions of postpartum, mentions of trauma, dom/sub dynamics.
a/n: Alright y'all I got some amazing comments from a hilarious person on A03 and it put me in such a good mood that I'm releasing this chapter ASAP. The comments really do make me write faster, as do reblogs and comments here... {hint hint}
I love y'all for following me and since I have almost 850 followers (when did that happen?) I'm planning something special for (if) I hit 1,000 followers here, somethin' real good.
Without further ado, here's the chapter and we find out a bit more about our MC's past and she and Joel finally talk about what's going on between them. . . sorta.
Chapter 6 here
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Chapter 7: Spoiled
You thought that the fear on patrols had abated. Not only were you on horseback, but you were paired with Joel, arguably one of the best shots in Jackson City.
So when he leads you to a path you aren’t familiar with, the first icy tendrils of fear slipping through you. When he orders you to stop your horse alongside his at the mouth of a forest you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit.
“Where are we?”
You speak so softly he doesn’t hear you, he stops just outside the dense forest, sliding off Midnight and tying him off to a nearby tree. He glances over his shoulder to see you still sitting atop Chestnut, your gun on your back and your eyes scanning the perimeter.
“What’re you waitin’ for?”
“What are we doing here?”
"We need to check the forest for traps," Joel explains to you. "The other patrol group sets ‘em up for large game. We check ‘em every couple of weeks." 
"Why can't we take the horses?"
"Too dangerous for ‘em inside," Joel explains. "We take ‘em in just enough to hide them but the roots and terrain are too much for ‘em. Too easy to twist their ankles." 
"Why can't the other patrols check?"
"They do," Joel says gruffly. "We take turns every week. This is our week. Now stop complainin' and let's go." 
You slide off of Chestnut at his order, but you make no move to go towards the forest. Too much is happening, too many noises and sounds and fears.
"J-Joel, I can stay with the horses." You don’t even hide the panic that’s crept into your voice.
"I said let's go," Joel huffs, gripping you by the upper arm and dragging you into the forest with him. He keeps his grip on you the entire way to the traps, almost knowing that the second he releases you, you’ll go rushing from the horrible dense of the forest.
Your feet drag but his grip is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Eventually you fall in line, marching alongside him. He doesn’t see that your eyes are closed, that he’s guiding you blindly through the forest. You simply lean into his grip, letting him lead as you follow.  
When you reach the traps a short while later he finally releases your upper arm. You find you immediately miss the safety of that grip and you are sure to stand close to him as he looks over the metallic traps.
“Why do you put them here?”
“S’where we find most of the game,” he explains distractedly as he surveys them. “Bait hasn’t been touched though, so nothin’s come by recently.”
He makes a circle around the perimeter and you can’t help but follow like a lost puppy. All of a sudden Joel stills. You can see the way his back goes rigid, his body coming to a full stop so abruptly you almost walk into him. 
You hear it, the gentle popping noise and you feel your body go numb with shock.
Clickers.
This is it. You're done for. You can’t even reach for your weapon, can’t even move a fraction. You’ve gone rigid, your eyes blown wide.
Joel raises his gun and you wait for the creature to come charging out of the woods.  You're confused when it goes off and a large bird falls to the ground away from you, thudding to the ground.
You’re still frozen in spot, watching as Joel walks over to it, nudging it with his foot. Satisfied he takes it by the beak, carrying it back to where you still stand looking terrified. His brows quirk.  
“S’wrong with you?”
"I thought it w-was one of them,” you whisper. “A clicker."
"Clickers sound different," Joel tells your blanched face. "More of a wet sound. But these birds sorta sound like em. S'why I kill em when I can." 
Joel looks to see your gun still strapped to your back, not even produced and you see irritation cross his face. 
"What would you do if you saw a clicker heading your way?" Joel asks you as the two of you walk through the forest back to the horses. "If you had no weapon and I wasn't here?"
Joel isn't one for casual conversation so you're immediately on guard. This is a test. But one you don't know how to pass. You glance around at your surroundings, noting the rocks and fallen branches from the trees. 
"Fire maybe?"
"You're gonna hunker down and build a fire while an infected is racin' towards you?" Joel scoffs. 
"Oh right," you mumble, feeling shame paint your cheeks. Your eyes scan around you again.  "Get a sharp stick? Stab it?"
"You get close enough to stab one you're already dead."
"A rock-"
Joel's deadened stare thrown over his shoulder at you stops you from guessing further and humiliating yourself. The two of you continue walking in silence before he finally breaks it. 
"If you see something coming towards you and you don't have a weapon, you gotta think smart," Joel explains. "You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Infected can't climb trees."
"I've seen ‘em climb ladders," you argue. "And cars."
"Barely," Joel says patting the large tree trunk to his right. "And they'll only try to climb if they hear you up there. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. Same goes for Raiders. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope." 
"Okay."
"Repeat it."
"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree," you reply flatly. "I need to remain quiet and out of sight."
“Good.”
You shakily make it back to the horses and continue on with your usual patrols. When you get inside the old building and finish your log notes you pause to look at your dual signatures. How his wide printing almost looks like its shielding your tiny script.
He’s not as sullen as usual and you know it’s because of what’s going to happen. You share your lunch in an easy silence before you’re on your knees between he and the wall, your eyes covered by the red scarf, your hands bracing your thighs. His cock fills your mouth deliciously and you feel warmth blooming behind your ribs.
“Swirl your tongue,” he orders breathlessly and you acquiesce. You love that he tells you exactly what he wants. You love how good it feels to do this right, to have the rest of the world fade away, where all you can hear and smell and taste is Joel. To feel his heavy hand on the crown of your head, holding you gently in place.
He barely talks, just let's you bob your mouth along until you feel that familiar stutter of his hips that tells you he's close. He comes quickly today, his voice gruff.
"Swallow it down."
When you pull off him minutes later he doesn't unwind the scarf right away. You hear him breathing above you as he tucks himself away. Moments pass and you sit patiently, head cocked in curiosity. You feel as if he's staring at you, and you can't understand why. 
Finally he comes to unwind the scarf from around your eyes. You expect him to wordlessly walk from you, but instead he’s panting softly, his cheeks stained with red. He looks at your mouth, his tongue trailing over his lower lip.
"Show me your tongue," he demands in a low voice.
Even though this request seems unlike him you tilt your head back, opening your mouth widely and sticking out your tongue to show your clean tongue. 
You feel strangely vulnerable pierced by the quiet gaze of Joel Miller. You've done much filthier things than stick out your tongue but you're never been looking at him while you do it, able to see the haunted eyes that stare back at you.
"Good girl," he rasps.
You watch him zipping and buttoning his jeans before he casts one last look at you. He blinks slowly and then strides from the room, his face back in its customary scowl.
You listen for the front door downstairs to open and shut. You can’t even make it to the bathroom before your hands are sliding under your jeans and you’re whimpering as you bring yourself off to the rumbling chorus of good girl that echoes in your mind.
///
Later that week you artfully arrange the paper flowers in an amber wine bottle you got from the Tipsy Bison. You rest it on your kitchen table smiling at the colorful arrangement. After making Maria's second bouquet you found yourself eager to make one of your own to brighten the space. You like looking at it, enjoy seeing the bright colors in your unadorned home.  
You take the secondary bouquet of colorful flowers and wrap them in a strip of old cloth. The weather is drizzling and you don't want them to be ruined. You hide them in a small linen bag you use for groceries and then pull on your coat. 
The walk towards the dining hall is pleasant despite the drizzle and you're surprised at how many of the children laugh and run through the falling droplets. When you were a child there were always video games and television shows to occupy your space indoors on gloomy days. These children have none of those luxuries but you can’t help but observe that they look more joyful than you ever did.
No wasting life. 
Breakfast with Jennifer is a quick affair. She’s with that group of friends you met a while ago. The only one who stands out to you is tall Luke with the easy smile and soft countenance. He makes you feel at ease when you’re around him.
“Have you been practicing your shooting?” Jessica asks, looking effortlessly beautiful in her oversized sweater. Luke glances up from his breakfast, intrigued at the conversation. You pretend not to notice.
“Uh, not really. I don’t have a working gun of my own.”
Jessica is wide-eyed. “How could you not tell me? I have one that I don’t even use anymore! Come by tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Jennifer insists with a smile that makes you feel warm from the inside out.
You’re incredibly grateful for the kindness Jennifer has shown you, and despite how popular and well liked she is, she’s taken you under her wing. She has nothing to gain from it – except perhaps intel on Joel which you never seem to have. But you’ve noticed she asks about him less, she’s more interested in you.
It’s like she might be your friend. The first real friend you’ve had in a long time.
The walk over to Maria’s place is a quick one. The raindrops have stopped thankfully, but you worry that the swollen grey clouds above you might open up at any second.
The door opens on your first rap as if Tommy was waiting for you to arrive. He gives you a warm greeting, opening the door further and the aroma of fresh coffee floats out to greet you.
"Hi. Is Maria around?"
"Yeah she is, we actually have some folks over now-"
"That's fantastic," you say to him quickly before producing the flowers from inside the makeshift wrapping. "I tried some new designs out. Thought Maria would like 'em. Have a good morning."
He takes the bundle from you before you prepare to take off. You're so happy to hear that Maria is doing better; it makes your heart feel full.
"Wait, I wasn't sayin' that so you'd go," Tommy chuckles, long fingers touching your shoulder to stop you from leaving. "Come inside. We're havin' coffee. Maria’d love to see you." 
You pause before you think of what awaits you at home: nothing really. An empty house, no family, no books you haven't already read over and over. What could it hurt especially when it seems like his desire to have you come in might be sincere?
"Okay." 
You’re about to toe off your shoes when you notice the scuffed boots and mud splattered sneakers sat next to the door and you feel your stomach flip. You recognize those boots.
Tommy doesn’t notice your sudden reluctance, he simply ushers you into the living room where everyone sits chatting quietly before the fire. Maria and Ellie are deep in conversation next to each other on the couch. Joel sits in one of the armchairs, his ankles folded. He looks so at ease, his eyes on Ellie and a paternal look of love in his eyes.
The second you enter the room however and his dark eyes move to take you in, you see the gentle curl of his mouth disappear.
Good girl.
You feel a flutter of nerves go through you and you force your attention to the back of Maria’s head.
“Look who dropped by with more flowers,” Tommy announces before looking at you. “You want a coffee or somethin’?”
“No, I’m fine thanks.”
Maria looks up from where she sits next to Ellie on the couch and smiles at you. Joel gives you a lazy once over before turning his attention to the gently roaring fire. You don’t miss the tic in his jaw and for a moment you actually feel guilty that you’ve broken up this peaceful morning for him.  
“I’m so glad you came back,” Maria enthuses, her dark eyes shining with delight. “Please come take a seat.”
You settle into the empty chair by the fireplace opposite Joel as Tommy hands the flowers to Maria. You haven't seen Ellie much since she got irritated with you about the whole Jennifer thing. You give her a tentative smile from across the room, grateful when she returns it. 
"That's so cool," Ellie marvels, touching the paper petals gently.
"I wish I knew how to make these," Maria sighs happily as she gazes at them. "Seeing the other ones every day makes the place feel so cheerful. I'm gonna put these ones in the baby's room."
"I could teach you how to make them if you wanted," you offer gently. "It's not too complicated."
You hope you don’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s something about Maria’s vulnerability that calls to you. It makes you want to protect her in some way. You realize belatedly that it’s not just your Aunt she reminds you of, but your sister.
"I don't think I'd have the patience," Maria says with a gentle wave of her hand. "I just like looking at them."
"I wanna learn," Ellie pipes up, making you suppress a pleased grin. "I like flowers."
"Since when?" Joel murmurs with a smirk. You sneak a glance at him before looking back to Ellie who frowns at her father-figure.
"I've always liked flowers."
"Thought you were dead set on learnin' to bake," Tommy muses over his coffee mug. “I
"Maybe I wanna learn both," Ellie snarks back at him. "Is that a fuckin' crime?"
"Language," Joel mutters in her direction. 
"I'm happy to teach you both," you say with a little laugh to yourself. "Thought I can't say I'm an expert on either."
"Really?"
"Yeah, of course," you say before your eyes sail over to the unmoving authority figure by the fireplace. "If that's okay with you?"
"Only if she's done with her chores," Joel finally supplies with a sigh, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. "And if you don't break the damn oven."
Of course his assumption would be that you'd break something. You try to hold in the grimace that threatens to spill over your features. 
Ellie makes a little hiss of victory before giggling at you. You feel the frost from your Jennifer misstep is behind you now. The sound of Douglas’ cries break into the room and both Maria and Tommy quickly move into the bedroom to console him. You look back at Ellie.
"How's school?"
"Boring," she answers honestly. "Can't wait until I'm done with it."
"I miss it," you tell her honestly as you shift in your chair. "I really loved being in class, sharing ideas, learning."
"You're weird."
"Ellie," Joel warns. 
"S'fine," you say with a soft chuckle. "I am weird."
Before Joel can reply Maria and Tommy have re-entered the room with Tommy holding a drowsy Douglas in his arms with Maria trailing after the two of them. 
"He heard your voice and wanted to say thank you for the flowers," she says kindly. 
You smile as Douglas is placed gently into your arms by Tommy while the glossy eyed Maria looks on. You smile down at the sweet angelic face, your voice a soft murmur. 
"Well, you're very welcome, Douglas." 
The baby blinks, grunting a moment and wiggling. He's warm in your arms, but not heavy. You slowly rock him in your embrace inhaling the sweet scent of milk and that intoxicating baby smell.  
"Hello," you coo softly at him as he stretches. Maria joins Tommy on the couch next to Ellie, curling her legs under her. 
The rest of the group has begun talking about the movie playing this weekend. Trying to decide between a western and some Disney thing someone found on patrols. You're distracted by Douglas' long eyelashes over caramel skin. The pout of his pink mouth and the way he gurgles a toothless smile up in your direction. 
"Adorable," you murmur, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing, little Miller?"
You grin widely down at him, wanting to press a kiss to his downy forehead but holding back. He's not your family after all. Instead you take his tiny hand in yours, marveling at the perfection of his small fingers dwarfed by your own. 
"He's so perfect," you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. 
"Gets his good looks from his mama," Tommy says throwing his arm over Maria's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she grins. 
"Ain't that the truth," Joel murmurs, drawing a good natured chuckle from Tommy. 
"You want kids?" Ellie asks you bluntly, forcing the attention of the room your way. You take a moment to consider the question. 
"I dunno," you finally answer honestly. "Never really thought about it."
"I sure don't," she replies easily. "They're noisy, they stink, and they’re just too much work."
"Same could be said for teenagers," Joel murmurs behind his coffee cup, drawing chuckles from everyone but Ellie who gives him a playful shove. 
You suppress a smirk before your finger traces down the soft cheek of Douglas''. He blinks up at you, gurgling again.
"Motherhood looks natural on you," Maria says in a voice laced with sorrow. You know what she's thinking. Tommy is glancing at her with concern in his features. 
"Not as natural as on you, Maria," you assure her kindly. "I promise."
Maria nods but it's clear she doesn't believe you. You don't know that you believe you either. But she needs to hear it, needs to know that she possesses it even if it doesn't feel like it right now. 
Tommy shoots you a grateful smile that you return. You can only imagine how hard it is to love someone so much and not be able to fix them. To have so few options to help now in this new world. 
"So you’re interested in the kitchen still, Ellie?" Tommy teases her. "Gonna whip us up somethin’ good? Be a real Martha Stewart?"
Ellie wrinkles her nose. "A who?"
Ellie starts talking about the kitchen but you're distracted by the bundle in your arms. Douglas has fallen asleep again and his tiny snores makes your mouth curl into a bemused smirk. 
You feel eyes on you and when you glance up you're surprised to see Joel's steady gaze on you holding the baby. When he catches you looking his way, his eyes snap over to his brother who is explaining all about Martha Stewart.
"We've got stuff to do," Joel says pushing himself up from the chair. "C'mon Ellie."
"I wanna stay."
"You've got chores," Joel tells her firmly. "And you've put ‘em off all week. Let's go."
His tone is stern but his face is pure patience as Ellie sighs dramatically. She comes to a stand sighing again and about to leave when she seems to remember something and steps towards you, her face suddenly animated.
"How about Sunday for baking? You can come to ours."
Go to Joel’s house? The thought has you in a panic, your eyes darting from her to Joel. "Uh, if it's okay with-."
"Joel is that okay?" Ellie claps her hands in front of her dramatically and she turns to face him. "Pleeeeeease?"
Joel moves his tongue to the corner of his cheek, looking thoughtfully at Ellie’s desperate face before sighing wearily.
"Just tell me what I need to get," Joel says to the space beside your head. "Eggs ‘n stuff like that."
"Sure. I'll give you a list on Thursday." 
Joel nods, still not making eye contact with you but that's okay. You don't really want him to. Just the mention of Thursday has you slick between your legs. You may not like Joel Miller but the thought of what the two of you get up to on patrols makes it easy to get through uncomfortable interactions with him.
The door creaks shut behind them as they leave and you take a few moments to rock the baby in your arms until Maria gives a soft yawn and you worry you’ve overstayed your welcome.
"I should probably go too.”
"Don't go," Maria insists almost desperately, her eyes wide. "He looks so happy with you holding him." 
You see the tears gathering in her eyes and you adjust the baby in your arms before sliding off your chair. Tommy seems to sense that you need privacy because he gathers the empty mugs and walks into the kitchen to wash them.
You stand, coming to sit next to Maria on the warm couch. She looks at Douglas warily, as if he's a stranger's child. 
"Hold him, Maria." 
"I can't."
"You can," you insist softly. "He's your son."
"I know he is," Maria says, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "I look at him and I'm so confused. I carried him; I fed him with my own body. Why don't I feel that connection like other mom's do?"
"You're not the only one," you tell her, hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went through the same thing. Gave birth to my cousin and felt nothing. She wasn't herself for months. You’re not alone, Maria. You’re not a bad mom; you’re not a bad person. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. It’s your brain.”
Maria shakes her head, as if the words don’t mean anything. You know she hears them, but she can’t accept them.
“You have a husband and friends to support you. I promise you that you'll get to the other side. I promise." 
You know that it's a heavy gamble. But she needs to know that there's hope. She needs to know that this illness has plagued women across centuries. She looks at Douglas’ sleeping frame and after a moment of hesitation she allows you to place him in her arms. You watch as her eyes get soft, her breathing slowly decreasing.
"Some days I really feel like he's mine," Maria murmurs as she drags a gentle finger down the slope of his tiny nose. "Some days my heart feels like its overflowing. And sometimes that's worse than not caring."
You're silent, just listening to her speak. 
"Love makes you weak and afraid. I've never been afraid of anything," Maria tells you, rocking Douglas gently in her arms. "But now that's all I am. Like one exposed nerve.”
Fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. You can’t help but run a soothing hand down her spine, rubbing up and down gently. She accepts your touch, even melts back into it.
"We shouldn't have done it," Maria hiccups a sob. "We were fucking idiots to have a baby in this world."
“You aren’t an idiot,” you insist. “You and Tommy loved each other so much you wanted to create life together. How is that stupid? That’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Maria sniffles, tears dropping onto the blanket holding Douglas.
“All I can think about is what I'd do if Raiders broke in. Or what if Douglas got bit? Or what would happen if Tommy and I got killed on patrols?  I'm terrified to leave him alone. Terrified that something is gonna happen to him if me or Tommy aren't around."
You can hear the clattering of mugs being washed in the kitchen. You wonder if Tommy is listening and you hope that he is, because you worry he might be having the same fears.
“Douglas is going to grow up, just like all the other kids in Jackson City. Happy and safe and loved. He’s going to grow up to be a good person just like his parents. He’s going to be smart and kind and who knows, maybe he’ll be part of finding a cure.”
Maria blinks over at you as if just realizing this possibility.
"Maria I never had kids," you tell her, hand rubbing over her own. "But I had a younger sister and she felt like my kid sometimes. Especially when my parents got separated when we were fleeing the city.
Maria stares at you, rubbing the tears from her eyes.
"When the pandemic started my mom was visiting her Aunt in Wyoming," you explain. "My sister and my dad and I, we escaped to the nearest QZ." 
“I never saw my Mom again,” you explain and you’re shocked at how deadened your voice sounds. It’s no longer a hurtful memory, more just a patchwork on the quilt of your trauma. Its life, you’ve accepted it. “The first day I got here I was sure I’d find her here. Sure that she survived somehow.”
“But she wasn’t here,” Maria finishes for you. “I would have recognized the last name.”
You shake your head slowly. “She wasn’t here.”
You think Maria might want to ask more about your history but you hear Tommy's voice filter in from the kitchen. 
"Joel, what're you still doin' here?"
Your head snaps to look over your shoulder. Joel is here? Had he heard anything? The thought curdles your insides. It was hard enough sharing this much with Maria. Knowing that Joel might have overheard is much worse. 
"Saw Jason out by the gates and he said that the lumber’s coming in Saturday,” Joel mutters. You can't see him in the next room but you hear the scrape of his boots on the wood flooring. "Thought you’d wanna know so you could get a group together.”
The two men mumble back and forth to each other and you hear the telltale sound of the door opening and closing behind Joel. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, suddenly anxious at the thought that Joel knows about your life. 
Tommy enters back into the room, his eyes on Maria. He sees her holding Douglas and you can see the sun break into his previously cloudy eyes.
"I should get going." You stand, looking down at Maria’s tear-stained face. "Sorry for showing up unannounced."
"You're welcome anytime," Tommy assures you warmly before coming to sit next to his wife. He slings his arm around her shoulders, looking down at his son in her arms.  
"Yeah," Maria agrees with a watery smile. "Please stop by again soon. I mean it."
“Okay, I will.”
///
Joel seems strange on patrols today. 
It started with handing him the list of supplies you’d need for baking. Instead of a smart remark he just nodded, taking it from you and shoving it into the back of his jeans pocket. The ride to Teton Village had been in its usual silence, you noticed that the snow from last week had turned into a slushy mess which meant the horses moved a little slower.
By the time you reached the old building with its log book you were more than a little eager. You’d woken up that morning particularly slick between the legs, a Pavlovian response to patrol days.
Joel is still near silent, not even looking at you when he brings out his bag for lunch. He pushes your sandwich and thermos to you, watching you carefully as you eat. Normally Joel stares anywhere but your face during patrols, unless he’s getting angry with you. Today however he seems a bit tense, his gaze a bit heavier than usual. 
It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking.
“I feel like Chestnut was walking a little weird the last mile or so,” you observe to break the silence. “Do you think you could take a look at his horseshoe before we go?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The quiet stretches on,
“So what was the lumber for?”
“Huh?”
“You mentioned lumber back at Tommy’s,” you say, feeling like the peanut butter is sticking to the roof of your mouth.  “I was wondering what it was for.”
“S’for repairs on the window upstairs,” he tells you gruffly, taking a large bite of his sandwich.
“Oh right.”
You decide not to press things; he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood.  Lunch passes slowly, despite your anticipation for what comes next. Your heart is actually thrumming when Joel wipes his hands on his jeans and tilts his head for you to follow him.
You go into the room with the fireplace and couch and watch him shift into a comfortable seated position. The old frame creaks under his bulk and he stares at you standing, waiting and watching him.  He undoes his belt buckle, the clinking noise causing your thighs to press together tightly.
You walk towards him, eyes on his large hands.
"On your knees."
You acquiesce without thought, your jeans biting into the cold floorboards below. Joel watches you from under hooded eyes. The sight of him seated there disheveled, belt unbuckled and legs spread does something to you.
When he doesn't make a move for your scarf or anything else you feel a prickle of insecurity go through you. You blink up at him, swallowing only to have him frown down at you. 
"Do you actually like this?"
You don't like the way he says it, like there's something wrong with you if you do. You stand shakily, your eyes on the floor as you give him your murmured response.
"I do, yeah." 
Joel is a statue with eyes that burn like coal. You feel them even if you don't see them until you peer at him still seated insouciantly there on the couch. 
"You like me orderin' you around?" His voice is grated around the edges, his eyes holding nothing but disbelief. "Tellin' you what to do?"
"I like you being in charge," you correct.
"Why the fuck would you want somethin' like that?” Joel insists, cheeks pinking. “Someone orderin' you around?" 
"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?" 
Joel swallows and you see his large eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your words. You feel strangely emboldened by his lack of response, by the fact that you’ve taken him by surprise. And perhaps since you’ve been doing this for over a month you feel that you can voice this.  
"Am I right?"
He still doesn't reply, instead he crosses his thick arms over his chest and just stares you down. It doesn't intimidate you like it once did, but it does prompt you to answer him. 
"Because when you make the rules and do the ordering my mind goes quiet," you explain softly. "I'm not afraid, I'm not angry, I'm just... Free. I'm not in control but I'm choosing not to be." 
And you know just by the way his shoulders relax that Joel understands. He understands because it's what happens when he has you under his palm, mouth sliding on his cock, when he wraps the scarf around your eyes and tells you not to touch.
The choosing. The control. 
You’d known from the very first time he'd given you the order. You'd seen in there in the dark of his eyes that he liked the dynamic.
But you sense the hesitancy in him, a guilt that he shouldn't be enjoying it so much. His eyes take on a large, wounded appearance and it’s so clear that he’s wondering if he’s done something wrong.
"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.” 
That seems to get through to him, because he blinks away that little lost boy gaze. 
You lower yourself to a kneeling position at his feet again. But you make no move to touch him. You simply bow your head, your hands clasped demurely on your thighs. You hear him shift unconsciously in his seat. 
"What're you doin'?"
"Tell me what to do, Joel."
You stare at his boots, never venturing to his face but you can feel him watching you, his large hand twitching at his side on the cushion. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you eventually tilt your face up to him. 
"Tell me what to do," you urge him again in a voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
You feel a rush of relief go through you when he nods and you can see the hard length of him through his jeans. You gingerly pull the scarf from around your neck, letting it hang in your grip loosely. You wait for him to retrieve it, eyes on the floor.
"No scarf," he rasps. "I know you'll listen. Close your eyes."
You do, feeling that tingle go through your body at his order. His large hand comes to the crown of your head, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging your face up. You keep your eyes firmly shut, not even considering peering through your lashes to see his face. You have your orders.
"Take me out and suck."
And you do, just as you have every other patrol for the last month. Only now it feels so much better because there’s no confusion. He gives you take, you give he takes. Your submission driving him forward, his domination calming your overworked nervous system. 
"You do like takin' orders," he observes with a groan. "Like bein' told that you're a good girl."
Your breathing elevates when you hear that term and you just know the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Yeah. S'what I thought." 
His hand is still wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently. Your lips feel rubbery and wet as you take him deeper. Your hands remain clasped on your lap. When you feel Joel twitch on your tongue you give a soft sigh through your nose, a feeling of blissful satisfaction. 
"Look at me," Joel murmurs.
You take a moment to consider if you heard him right, but then he repeats himself and you slowly gaze up the length of him. He's tilted over you with heavy eyes, mouth parted. A greying curl is stuck to his sweaty forehead. 
"Christ," he grits through his teeth. "Look ‘atcha there, mouth stuffed with my cock."
Desire blooms in you, snaking behind your ribs, down your veins, into your very bloodstream.  
"What happened to that soft thing makin' cookies?"
You happened, Joel. 
When Joel's quiet rasp reaches you again you physically shiver.
"You like bein' on your knees for me?" Joel grunts as his hips jerk forward.
You nod, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper into your throat. He lets out a strangled noise, tossing his head back.
"Fuck!" Joel glances down to see you still staring up at him, lips swollen around his shaft. "Look away now."
It doesn't sound like a cruel order, more a plea. You close your eyes, giving a small noise of protest when Joel brings himself out of your mouth. 
"Wanna come on your tits," he instructs with a rasping growl and you hear him stroking himself furiously. "Take em out for me."
Despite this being uncharted territory for you both you don't hesitate. Your hands fumble with your sweater and you pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Joel watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it join the sweater. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the room. 
You're still not looking up at his face as instructed; so you don't know what he thinks. All you know is that the stroking is increasing. 
"Head back, eyes closed," he pants, his voice tight. 
You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed. You feel vulnerable in this position, an animal who has bared their neck to a predator. Despite this you cup your breasts, offering them to him. 
"Good girl," Joel says with a grunt. "Fuckin' good… So good for me."
And the praise hits you so strongly that you whimper aloud. This is what sends Joel over the edge and he comes with a strangled groan, painting your tits with stripes of his warm spend. 
Your dual panting fills the room and you wish you could see yourself covered in Joel Miller's come. You wonder what he sees when he looks down at you covered in his essence. Proud? Embarrassed? Guilty?
"Open your eyes."
You blink them open immediately, your gaze flying to your chest covered in him before glancing up at him. Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, looking at you as if he’s still not convinced you’re real.
He reaches towards you and you don’t flinch when you watch his thumb come to gently trace over your right nipple, the spend there clinging to his digit. You feel a shiver run through with the contact of his hand on you. 
You watch mesmerized as his palm cups your cheek, his fingers curling gently against your jaw. His thumb hovers scant inches from your swollen lips. Your eyes can't help but dart to his face again and the sight of his eyes blown black makes you quiver. 
"Open," he says barely above a whisper. 
Your mouth parts, eyes still on his face. He slowly lowers his thumb into your mouth. It rests there on your tongue, heavy and damp. 
"Suck." 
Your lips wrap around his thumb, licking the digit clean before sucking it suddenly, nestling him into the concave of your upper palate like he belongs there. He watches this all with quiet fascination, eyes strangely sorrowful through it all, like it pains him to do it. You suck, your smooth tongue cradling his wide thumb. 
His hand is still cupping your cheek, even when his thumb is removed and drags down your lower lip, his gaze watching its descent. His brows saddle when you sigh gently, eyes locked with his. 
And then he yanks his hand from you so quickly that you flinch. You’re completely thrown by the behavior, covering your chest instinctively. He looks at you kneeling between his legs and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
You shuffle backwards as he stands abruptly. You sit there at his feet, covered in his cooling spend, shooting him a confused look. 
"We ain't doin this anymore," he tells you brusquely as he quickly zips up his jeans before buttoning it with trembling fingers.
"Why not?"
"Cuz I said so," he mutters before he shoots an ugly sneer your way. "You said you like takin' orders so this must be your lucky day." 
You can only shake your head in disappointment as he leaves the room. You don't know what happened but Joel is back to his old, asshole self. The door below slams behind him and you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Today there is no sliding your hands underneath your jeans and getting yourself off.
All traditions have been spoiled by Joel's selfishness. 
----------------------------------------
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getvalentined · 3 days
Text
I need to talk about the ending of Rebirth, because I'm apparently the only person in the world who liked it.
Putting everything behind a cut, and I would request that anyone who reblog this with spoiler commentary do the same as a courtesy to people who haven't beaten the game yet. It's been just shy of a month since it dropped, so we're still well within the statute of limitations on spoilers. Be nice.
A lot of people are really, really upset about the ending. It's been really weird to have people who went on and on about how they'd be livid if Aerith survived now being furious that she didn't, but I guess it just proves that not only can you not please everyone, but some people are incapable of being pleased.
I've warned everyone I know that Rebirth is the middle part of a trilogy; it was going to end on a low note regardless. That's how trilogies work, the 'ending' of a trilogy's second part isn't an ending at all, it establishes the launching point for the conflict of the conclusion. As a result, second parts will generally strive to be satisfactory with the understanding that it will basically never be satisfying. I'm not going to go into that any more deeply because it's not the key takeaway here, but it's super important to keep that in mind when addressing the ending of any second part, not just Rebirth.
The fact of the matter is, Aerith was never going to survive. That was never on the table, because it was never anyone's decision but hers.
In the OG, Aerith allows herself to be killed so that she can petition Gaia for aid directly, so that she can commune with the planet in-person in order to make sure Holy is activated in time to save everyone. She chose that. She didn't want to die, but she did want to save everyone, and she understood that the only way to do that was by sacrificing herself. Changing that would have been a huge insult to her character, a complete teardown of everything she's been since we met her all the way back in 1997, and it was never going to happen.
In Rebirth, Aerith is capable of dragging Cloud's consciousness into a pocket dimension she's made out of the last days of a terminated timeline in order to both hide him from Sephiroth while he recovers, and to get a working copy of the White Materia that she can use to save the world in the timeline that Sephiroth has chosen to 'save.' She has her own army of Whispers that can and have changed things, that can and have saved people from incidents that should undeniably have killed them. Incidents that did kill them.
If Aerith had wanted to survive in Rebirth, she would have. Sephiroth couldn't have stopped her. We see that in the game, because she literally fights him at the end alongside Cloud, even though she's already dead. Cloud saved her, and then he didn't—and then he did, and then he didn't, he did, he didn't, back and forth and back and forth and we don't know who decided where it stopped.
Sephiroth wanted Aerith out of the way, certainly, but in the end he left of his own accord. He's also the one trying to change the timeline from what it was originally, he doesn't want things to go the way they did in the OG; it's entirely possible that it was Aerith herself who dragged the timeline sideways into the one where she died, because he's wrong and she knows that's the only way to stop him. (I don't necessarily think this is the case, but it's not even close to set in stone.)
I see a lot of people saying that it doesn't matter, nothing mattered, nothing anyone did made a difference because she's still dead. That the only difference that could ever have mattered enough to make it worth it would have been for her to survive—even though it was and has always been Aerith's decision whether or not that came to pass—and I literally can't disagree hard enough.
I think we—and by 'we' I mean the players as much as Cloud and the rest, this is important—changed things in the only way that they could have been changed without condemning the planet to Sephiroth's desperately lonely form of salvation.
When Aerith died in the OG, it happened so suddenly that there was nothing we could do. There was no closure, we never knew if she understood how loved she was, that we would have traded places with her if we could, that nobody wanted her to have to do this alone. We could never really know if she understood how sorry we were to have failed. We didn't get to say goodbye.
Over a quarter century later, we got that. After all this time, decades of knowing that there was nothing we could do to save her but wishing that we at least could have seen her off, Rebirth gave us exactly that.
Aerith wakes up. She's dead because she has to be, but she wakes up. She gets to see how much she's missed, she gets to say goodbye, and we get to say goodbye back. We finally have the chance to not have her taken from us, but to let her go, and to see that it's her decision to stop while everyone else keeps going. It always has been.
Aerith was never going to survive. That was never going to change, because it's not about her—it's about saving the world, and it's about you.
But things are still so different this time, because we finally got to say goodbye, and I can't think of difference we could actually make that could ever be worth any more than that.
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diddiqueen · 2 days
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Message in a bottle (part fourteen)
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Ellie texts the wrong number, which happens to be yours. Friendship, too many bad jokes, flirting, and maybe something more ensues… (Ellie Williams x girl reader) -> Part thirteen
Series masterlist
BEFORE YOU READ: masterpost on how you can educate yourself on and help Palestine A/N: Soooo, this is the last real chapter before the epilogue. I'm so glad for all the kind support I've gotten on this story, my first series ever!! Thank you to everyone who has read this, liked it, reblogged it and commented. I've read every single one and I'm beyond grateful. Okay, I'm gonna stop being sappy now and let you read chapter fourteen<333 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
On the way home, your head was spinning. Heck, your entire body was spinning, warm and flustered were two great words to describe the state you were in. You couldn’t believe Ellie had said that, all these weeks? In your mind, it had obviously been jokes and jokes only, nothing to ponder any further about. But she meant it? All of it? You weren’t sure what to do with yourself now once you knew about Ellie’s feelings. 
Also, the touch and taste of her lips against yours, that as well contributed to your state right now. That would stay in your mind for a long, long time. The heat was still present on your lips and you lifted your fingers to touch the place where Ellie had once been. 
When you stepped off the bus, you breathed in the cold air and felt your lungs get filled. Even though you could barely feel your fingers since you forgot gloves, it didn’t bother you as your mind was somewhere completely else. The walk home from the bus stop was short but it felt like an eternity. All you wanted was to get home and text Ellie. Sure, you could do it now but you didn’t want to be desperate.
Finally home, you tore off your shoes and rushed to your room, not even bothering to greet your parents who were watching a movie in the living room. You debated whether to maybe call Ellie since you couldn’t wait to talk to her again, hear her voice again. It was the closest substitute for actually meeting her. 
As you sat down on your bed, you felt your eyes get heavy and decided against the phone call. During your time with Ellie, you didn't even notice how long it had been. The hours had been flying by in her presence, it had wrapped up your mind and taken it to another planet where time and room didn’t exist. 
You realized that you had to text her now before you would fall asleep, so you grabbed your phone and laid your head down on your soft pillow. Your heart was racing as you pressed on the messaging app and started to type.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── (23.16) I’m home safe now
(23.16) good:) (23.16) i miss you
(23.17) U just saw me?
(23.17) ik (23.17) Still miss u
(23.17) Me too<3 (23.17) I really enjoyed tonight
(23.18) same (23.18) it was very nice (23.18) thank you for the ice cream btw
(23.18) Thank u for the weed
(23.18) np (23.19) and for the kiss too?
(23.19) Ofc (23.19) That was also very nice
(23.19) yeah?
(23.19) Mhm (23.20) i really liked it too (23.20) felt like fireworks
(23.20) Ur so corny (23.20) (Me too)
(23.21) goodnight y/n❤️
(23.21) Goodnight Ellie <3
(23.21) sleep tight
(23.21) Don’t let the bed bugs bite 
Day 53
(14.34) what are we now?
(14.34) I don’t know (14.35) What do u wanna be?
(14.35) wanna go out with me? (14.35) on a real date
(14.35) Only if u pay (14.36) (Yes yes)
(14.36) obviously (14.36) (good that makes me so happy)
(14.37) When?
(14.37) damn you’re demanding (14.37) can’t get enough of this face huh?
(14.37) U said u missed me directly after i left (14.38) Who’s the desperate one really?
(14.38) wou want me soo bad
(14.38) Idk who gave u that information
(14.38) the voices in my head telling me
(14.39) Oh, so delusion? 
(14.39) shut up (14.39) you want to go on a date with me
(14.39) Yeah what about it?
(14.40) nothing 😇
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
(18.01) i have some dirty jokes for you (18.01) ik you like em like that
(18.02) What happend to hi hello how are u?
(18.02) yeah yeah ur so smart and all that (18.02) why is diarrhea hereditary? (18.02) it runs in your genes
(18.03) That’s not dirty (18.03) Just straight up gross 
(18.03) nah it’s hilarious (18.03) two deer walk out of a gay bar (18.04) one says to the other, “I can’t believe I blew fifty bucks in there”
(18.04) That one’s better but not great
(18.04) aka 5/5 from you (18.04) what do you call the useless piece of skin on a dick?( (18.04) The man (18.04) the man (18.04) omg
(18.05) Oh god (18.05) Kinda true though 
(18.05) right?
(18.05) U trying to seduce me?
(18.05) yes (18.06) is it working? 
(18.06) Ehh (18.06) Don’t worry about it
(18.06) what do you call the lesbian version of a cock block? (18.06) a beaver dam
(18.06) … (18.07) I don’t know what to say
(18.07) because it was so funny?
(18.07) Opposite really
(18.07) you don’t have to pretend you don’t like them anymore (18.07) cuz I know you do 
(18.08) Do u?
(18.08) yeah (18.08) you don’t have to wear that cool mask now (18.08) i like you anyways
(18.08) 🙄🙄 (18.08) (❤️❤️)
(18.08) told you I’m a lady’s woman
(18.09) Still don’t like them
Day 54
(12.45) heyy (12.45) how are you doing today?
(12.46) I’m good wbu 
(12.46) i’m great now that I’m talking to you
(12.46) I can’t believe I thought u were just making fun of me all this time
(12.47) no I would never (12.47) i meant everything I said
(12.47) Yeah?
(12.47) yup
(12.48) Well I’m glad ur great
(12.48) perfect (12.48) what are you up to?
(12.48) Not much just gonna be at home (12.49) U?
(12.49) i have tons of homework to do
(12.49) Good luck (12.49) Ever thought about doing it during the week so ur free during the weekend 
(12.50) yeah i have (12.50) then i decide against it and do fun stuff instead
(12.50) Are u implying that homework is not fun?
(12.50) obviously not (12.51) it’s the best part of the week
(12.51) There u go (12.51) This is how u seduce mrs adams (12.51 dont really need that anymore do i?
(12.51) Just do it now so ur free later:)
(12.52) fine mom
(12.52) Please don't call me that after u have kissed me
(12.52) yeah i felt weird writing that ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
(20.27) I just looked at my snap memories from two years ago and remembered my straight era
(20.27) oh?
(20.28) Yeah (20.28) I had some thoughts about maybe being bi but was convinced I liked guys
(20.28) funny to hear that now
(20.28) Shut up (20.29) Well I just remembered how I used to google hot boys when I felt too “gay” and scroll until I found one that wasn’t ugly to prove I was straight 
(20.29) damn (20.29) i’m sorry (20.29) you we’re in deep denial 
(20.30) Yeah I know
(20.30) good you have come to other conclusions 
(20.30) U think so?
(20.30) yes
(20.30) Wonder why
(20.31) didn’t know you were such a flirt
(20.31) A flirt? Where?
(20.31) oh don’t act so innocent 
(20.31) Why wouldn’t I?
(20.32) you’re driving me crazy
(20.32) How come?
(20.32) stop flirting 
(20.33) I’m not 😇
(20.33) yes you are 
(20.33) In ur dreams 
(20.34) yes actually
A/N: Thanks for reading as usual!! What do you guys think is gonna happen in the epilogue?? <3333 EPILOGUE
DAILY CLICK GUYS: DO IT!!!
Taglist: @gato-chino@crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliescunt222 @elsbabyxx@onlinelesbo@slut4mascss@elliessweetheart@fullmachinegirl@mikellie@kitkatkittycat111@yumimak@ellieschair@deliriousrn@scarletchase1989@jokerpokimoon@seraphicsentences@w1ll1amz@strap-me-down-please@isitadinosaur@elliesactualgirlfriend@radioheadfan699@zoehxnji@4ftergloww@macaroni676@harrysslutsstuff@sc0ttstre3ted@rxreaqia @emst4rr @jairaanderson@marrycv@eviestevie-14@ellstronaut@dixitu@elliewilliamsblunt@boobdrug@tearouthearts@desireesfics@elliewilliamsmiller0@sapphhicslut @kawaiibreadbouquet-blog @dixitu@ellslvr @kazo0339 @tphmnv
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So Inappropriate
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A/N: Alright, you guys wanted it, here it is. This little ficlet based off of the video that’s got our Stark Squad all riled up. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you enjoyed it.
Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader
Warnings: 18+ smut-ish fluff. There is a significant age gap between the reader and Tony (say 20 years?) Also the reader is Bruce Banner’s assistant.
Word count: 1896
Tony Stark Masterlist
.
You were just about done arranging the equipment in the lab when you heard the door slide open.
“Dr. Banner, I’m done for the day unless you need me for anything else!” you called out without glancing up, not realizing the person who had walked in certainly wasn’t your boss.
“Dr. Banner has left the premises for the day, Miss Y/L/N. But I might need you for something.”
Tony Stark made an appearance, his signature smirk adorning his face as he traipsed in closer, his walk oozing all sorts of confidence and authority. Of course, your face did very little to hide the blush that creeped up, heating your cheeks in an instant.
Why did this man have such an influence on you? You’d never know.
Well, not exactly. It was pretty obvious. The genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist had this effect on most individuals. His natural charisma and intimidating presence was all wrapped in an impeccably trimmed-goatee-bearing handsome package. The guy was senior to you. Much senior. But there was something about him that always drew you in, an impish charm that was all too endearing, his commanding aura that compelled you to behave. Almost challenged you to confront your deepest, darkest desires.
“Earth to Y/N?” he snapped you out of your reverie, making you accidentally knock over a set of beakers kept on the platform.
Cursing under your breath, you bent to pick up the shattered glass as did Tony, resulting in your head banging against his, further adding to your embarrassment.
Just great!
“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Tony murmured, taking the shards of glass from your hand as Dum-E, one of his bots zoomed in to sweep it all away.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark. I–I’m sorry.” you fumbled, wincing as you saw you an angry drop of red ooze out of your finger from where you had evidently cut yourself.
“Ah, you poor thing. C’mere.” not awaiting a response, Tony clutched your hand and brought it to his lips, gently sucking on your index finger all while his eyes bore into yours.
A part of you wanted to run away from the scene like a scaredy cat but, the other part was completely rooted to the spot. Not daring to move an inch, as if if you did, your little daydream would break. Your cheeks probably burnt with the heat, and you could feel your pulse rush to the part of your finger that was currently in his mouth, smarting. His tongue soothed over the cut softly, sending tingles of desire down your back, the moistness between your legs increasing with his little action.
He is your boss. Not exactly but he built this place. He was your boss’s best friend. These thoughts were quite inappropriate.
Almost as quickly as it began, he let go of your hand, his touch still lingering strong as you cleared your throat, watching his bot whir away from the scene.
“Thank you, I think. Um. For your help.” you stared at your feet, unsure what to do next.
You grabbed your things and stuffed them in your bag, very aware of the fact that Tony and signature smirk were following your every move.
Why was this man allowed to have this effect on you?
You stopped right by the door, turning back to face the man who hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Uh, Mr. Stark? You said you wanted me for something?”
“Right! Well, we have a charity, inauguration, felicitation, something here at the Tower in two days. I wanted you to come.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at you intently as he waited for an answer.
“Oh! Are–are you sure?”
That was a surprise. You had been working with Dr. Banner for a better part of a year now however it had always been strictly professional. You were aware of the many, many galas and events that took place, you were just never a part of them. Until now.
“Yeah. I’ll have Big Green send you the details. You can bring a date. Or not.”
He winked cheekily, walking up the stairs right next to you before the doors slid open once again, gesturing you to go first.
Needless to say you were flabbergasted. A rush of excitement brought a pep in your step as you headed home, going through your wardrobe in detail and what could be a Stark-party-worthy outfit.
.
Tony’s eyes scanned the room, eager to find you in a sea of impeccably dressed people. He couldn’t shake you off from his thoughts. Not for a while now, if he would admit to himself.
His curiosity grew ever since he saw you for the first time, entering the lab and giving Bruce Banner a shy smile, eyes locking with him and holding his gaze, almost unable to look away. He sensed you were nervous, it was cute. It made his cock stir. He could not remember the last time he felt this way. You were a young, smart, vivacious thing that was too young for him, and yet he couldn’t resist you.
Not that he tried. You drew him in right from the start.
Tony had found you chatting animatedly to your boss some time later. You looked stunning in the floor-length number you had decided on. Your features were beautifully highlighted with the hair and make-up you’d chosen.
His wish to have you closer had been fulfilled as the party warmed up, people sat around in groups, drinks in their hands while conversation flowed. Of course, the Avengers had a favorite corner they had gathered at, the center of attention being the one and only, Iron Man. He was awarded a trophy for his philanthropic work earlier which now sat in his lap proudly, an almost phallic-shaped glass that had his name etched.
“I can’t be the only one thinking this.” Tony smirked, holding the award against his crotch and earning collective groans from the crowd around. The action brought warmth rushing to your cheeks, your wildly imaginative mind pictured him doing that to his member, letting out soft grunts.
“You alright, Miss Y/L/N?” Your attention was captured by someone standing next to you, pointing to your dress.
Unknown to your preoccupied self, the filled glass of wine you held had tilted enough to spill on your dress.
“Oh God! Shit!” you exclaimed, turning a few heads your way as you grabbed a few tissues to blot the spilled liquid as much as you could. The darker color of your dress masked the big stain that had probably formed.
It was hard to miss Tony’s piercing gaze as he gave you one of his lopsided grins, clearly giddy with the reaction he had hoped his stunt would achieve. If anything, one fact was becoming clearer by the day.
Your attraction towards this man was increasing and it seemed he was equally interested in you too.
.
It had been a hectic week, you sighed and leaned back against your chair, closing your eyes for a moment as your exhausted body relaxed momentarily. You couldn’t wait to get home and soak your butt in a hot bubble bath.
With the events of Ultron, there had been extra work load that you had volunteered to help out with at the Tower. You didn’t mind, of course. It meant spending a lot of time with the Avengers and a particular one at that too. Tony spent hours, sometimes days holed up in the lab, working with Bruce and yourself.
It was almost impossible not to be distracted or turned on by his presence there. To see him laser-focused at work, fingers gliding over keyboards and holograms in front of them as he paced about the space. It was all too hot.
Shutting your computer for the day, you grabbed your things and made your way out of the lab. Tony had retreated back to his floor some time ago and had promptly forgotten his phone on his work desk. It rang with a start, catching your attention and making you walk back in to grab it.
It wasn’t uncommon for you to bother the billionaire genius in his home since there had been multiple occasions where Dr. Banner asked you to summon the man whenever he got a lead on Ultron.
The elevator dinged to a stop, the doors opening to his grand living room that offered a view of New York people would kill for. His bedroom door seemed left ajar as you made your way over, stopping in your tracks as you heard a muffled groan.
Curiosity got the better of you as you sneaked a look inside his bedroom, not able to stop yourself as the sounds increased.
You felt your mouth go dry at the sight before you. Tony lay on his bed against the pillows, eyes scrunched up, pants undone., soft sighs leaving his lips as his hand moved up and down on his erect cock.
It felt so wrong to watch him pleasure himself in the privacy of his own home and yet so right, you felt yourself blush at the sight. It was like you were unable to look away, he had his fingers wrapped around his shaft, moving at a steady pace as you saw precum leak at the tip of his head. His pretty, thick lips were parted while his chest rose and fell, eyes shut in ecstasy.
You were about to peel your gaze away from the scene when you heard a faint whisper of what you thought was your name.
“Oh Y/N..” his breathy moan sent desire to pool right between your legs, a part of you still processing the whole thing while the other wanting to push that door open and join the man or perhaps help him finish.
His thumb swiped across his red tip before the pace of his strokes increased, his pants echoed in the room while you felt your entrance clench around nothing, desiring the very man who was masturbating while thinking of you.
You were sure your panties were ruined by the time Tony’s hips jerked and you saw him climax, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and spilling on his hand and lower abdomen. That had to be the hottest thing you’d seen in your life.
You definitely needed to take care of yourself after this, that bubble bath was going to be an elaborate one. His softened cock still lay open for your eyes to feast on, his cum scattered on his body begging you to be licked clean.
Your thoughts came to a standstill when the phone you held in your hand rang terribly loudly, interrupting the little moment. Your scramble to hide or run was rendered useless when Tony glanced outside and saw you.
“It is rude of you to just stand out there and watch, Miss Y/L/N. So inappropriate.”
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yuumebow · 1 day
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CEASEFIRE NOW. 🍉
how you can help gaza right now. resources in thread.
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people in gaza are still suffering. miserably. and you need to help them.
imagine being in a situation where your land gets bombed, you have no food, your family members are dying, your losing your loved ones, hospitals not being able to fix ur injurys.
that'd horrible, wouldnt it? terrifying even.
and everyone in gaza goes through that everyday. everyone is just trying to survive, always trying to find shelter and find food.
this isnt just happening to adults either, children too.
instead of children happily playing with their toys, maybe even friends and having a childhood, they instead should have to fear and die.
so you should help gaza in any way you can, please.
what you can do is:
take part in strikes
be visible: wear clothing, accesories of you being support of palestine
go to protests*
educate yourself please. education is so important in cases like this.
put posters up for awareness of the gaza genocide
make art for palestine, music or anything that helps gaza
boycott companies that support palestine. do not buy from companies that support israel*
listen to music artists from palestine. israel is also trying to destroy palestine culture
do not watch eurovision or the oscars. it was used as a distraction for bombing palestine
spread awareness, spread any news of palestine u have to other people, its extremely helpful.
reblog palestine related posts: palestine news, palestine artwork, palestine anything.
and please click on these links!!! these help you learn and support gaza.
click here for a resource thread do your daily clicks to help palestine buy e-sims for gaza* educate yourself in 5 minutes guide to boycotting posters to hang up help families in gaza + link masterposts*
*please do this only if you have the ability to
ill add anything to this if i find anything thats also important
do anything u can on this list. please. save gaza.
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starlightomatic · 2 days
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i want to ask that this post only be reblogged by jews, because this is an intracommunity conversation i want to have.
i recently made a post about october 7th, which i ended with acknowledging what's going on in gaza and a discussion of the bigger picture. a couple of people reblogged this with something like "in case the beginning made you want to scroll, read to the end."
my initial reaction here was being upset; the first half of the post would have been valid on its own, and it's fucked up to see a post about pain the OP is connected to and automatically assume it's propaganda.
so i added an addition about that, and here are some of the things i said:
if describing my multiple personal connections to a woman burned alive made you roll your eyes and want to ignore it, i urge you to sit with that response and strip it of the associations of other posts you've seen, and look at the bare truth: someone describing their personal connections to a woman burned alive made you want to roll your eyes and ignore it.
and:
and i'm not talking about folks with compassion fatigue who just didn't want to hear more about death and violence -- that is very understandable. it's for those ready to toss this in the "bad post" bin because they automatically assumed it was propaganda.
and:
a lot of you have been receiving significant amounts of propaganda for months that is training you to read anything that reference october 7th victims of death, rape, injury, or trauma, or reference hostages, as fake and a warning sign that someone is an Enemy. you are not immune to propaganda and you need to really reflect on how you evaluate information if this is where it's gotten to.
and
what brought you to the place where you're automatically suspicious, distrustful, and dismissive of people relating certain experiences? what messages have you received about who to listen to and who to dismiss, about what's true and what's probably lies?
and:
i know that in large part it's because october 7th is weaponized to silence palestinians and manufacture consent for genocide. what tools can you use to recognize when that is and isn't happening? can you seek out voices who don't do that, and are able to hold both truths?
and:
what would it look like to not either dismiss or weaponize?
writing this made me realize, we need to talk about something. we have needed to talk about it for a long time.
i have seen exactly this same dynamic occur when it comes to people discussing gaza.
i have seen folks in the jumblr community and in other jewish communities on and offline view any post or discussion about gaza as propaganda, as a way to dismiss october 7th. i have seen people view every claim about what is happening there through a lens of suspicion and distrust. i have seen people assuming ulterior motives, assuming that people could not have been genuinely motivated by care and concern but must have some other harmful purpose.
i've fallen into this too, unfortunately.
and i understand why this is happening. when you're dismissed, in mourning, and hurt, it's going to make you more reactive, and likely to assume worst intent.
so i want to use the things i asked in my post as a framework for recognizing when this is happening.
when is our instinct to ignore or scroll past posts about gaza and palestine? can we pause first before dismissing?
how often do we view something as propaganda and distrust it? what would it mean if it is propaganda; what would it mean if it's not? how useful is the term propaganda in the first place; can something have a political goal and still be true?
what messages have you received about palestinians and their goals that would lead you to dismiss the information they're sharing? if propaganda is a useful term, what propaganda has been aimed at you and played to your existing sympathies? what palestinian narratives have you been trained to dismiss, ignore, mistrust or suspect?
to what extent do you assume that discussion of gaza is intended to dismiss or deny october 7th, or is disingenous? can you recognize when that is or isn't happening? can you seek out voices who don't do that, and are able to hold both truths -- but actually both truths, not just lip service?
what would it look like not to dismiss gaza? what would it look like to speak up about gaza? what would it look like to be rooted in truths and our own experiences and values, and to speak up about gaza in that framework?
What would it look like to know and internalize that while someone like me might have eight confirmed second-degree connections to people killed on October 7th, a Palestinian in diaspora might have dozens, or more?
What would it look like to internalize that while I never got to visit Nahal Oz and a man once dropped me off at a bus stop on his way to Be'eri, a Palestinian in diaspora has many towns that were destroyed before they were even born.
Can we hold our own pain, and our own very valid anger at the ways we're mistrusted and dismissed, without slipping into mistrusting and dismissing the pain of others?
Can we reach out to our communities and ask them to take the crisis in Gaza seriously? Can we evaluate whether we and our communities are materially complicit in that crisis, and speak out against it if that is the case? Can we call in the people in our lives who dismiss or excuse this? Can we support the people of Gaza via donations? Can we reach out to our political leaders to put pressure on them to end this war?
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hotvintagepoll · 2 days
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Propaganda
Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!
Priscilla Lane (Arsenic and Old Lace, Saboteur, The Roaring Twenties)— I see Priscilla Lane in Arsenic and Old Lace every year during my Halloween rewatch, and I always love watching her. She had a rubber-face for comedy, while still looking adorable no matter what funny face she’s making. She seems to have had a slightly fuller mouth than was the thin-lipped vogue at the time, and every time she pouts at her forgetful new husband, she looks so gosh-darn kissable that you understand completely why Cary Grant is so wild to get her on the train to Niagra for crazy honeymoon sex. No wonder this movie nearly got Hayes coded for the newlyweds being too hot for each other.
This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]
Joan Crawford:
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I just love women that are very mean.
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she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.
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The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows
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of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles
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Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?
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(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.
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Priscilla Lane:
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