#tipsy scales posts

[tipsy-scales]

You have bewitched me body and soul

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.   

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up. 

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back. 

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt. 

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up. 

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.” 

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain. 

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman. 

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you. 

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg. 

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours. 

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is. 

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you. 

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder. 

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement. 

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out. 

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off. 

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy. 

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked. 

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf. 

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet. 

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin. 

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.” 

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear. 

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.” 

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver. 

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?” 

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out. 

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey. 

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner. 

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you. 

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire. 

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.” 

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?” 

“Pleeeease,” you keen out. 

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.” 

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you. 

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm. 

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out. 

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him. 

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?” 

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”   

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken. 

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know. 

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you. 

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout. 

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. 

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love. 

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off. 

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep. 

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you. 

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn. 

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet. 

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company. 

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another. 

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes. 

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season. 

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift. 

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you. 

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same. 

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks. 

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.” 

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him. 

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City. 

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her. 

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good. 

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town. 

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod. 

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different. 

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.  

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances. 

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice. 

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint. 

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin’ their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you. 

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him. 

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot. 

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night. 

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble. 

[coquettetoji]

{⚡️} GETO SUGURU MOODBOARD

★ geto suguru general hcs ★

— now how do i even begin with this fine ass man

— he’s 6’5, lean muscular with a mf 8 pack like those hawaiian rolls from costco, they’re so defined and just them + his pale skin is 😏

— towers over everyone, will do that arm next to your head leaning towards you against the wall type of thing just to get you acting up

— his hands are big, not huge but definitely really big, they’re bony and veiny but callous

— his ears are pierced on each side, he has a diamond stud on both ears. he also has a nose ring on the left nostril

— left handed mf, don’t ask why he just is **also wears silver rings, suguru isn’t a gold typa guy 🙁

— his voice is really smooth and deep, like it has a certain vibrato to it that just makes me wet go feral alongside everyone else

— genetically has perfect teeth, also has a tooth gem on one of his canines, his tongue is pierced too

— has a lot of tattoos, but they aren’t huge just small ones scattered throughout

— hair hair hair hair hair hair hair hair (it’s perfect) it’s jet black and wavy, pieces are always falling in-front of his face but it’s so hot

— only wears the color black, white, or any type of neutral tone color. you’ll probably never catch him dead in like a bright yellow shirt

—onto personality, this boy literally has puppy mentality

— like he’ll act super big and tough but once he’s around people he’s comfortable with he just melts

— has a very sarcastic sense of humor, half the time people don’t even know if he’s joking or serious now

— gym rat alongside gojo, they’re designated workout buddies

— loves physical touch as a whole and is definitely a golden retriever type of guy even though he looks kinda scary and mean

— his favorite hobbies are cooking and drinking, as for cooking he’s cooking at like a culinary chef level it’s scary

— also loves street racing, kinda illegal but kinda fun 😏

— has a very high tolerance when it comes to drinking, will probably get a bit tipsy after 7 or more drunks

— drives a bmw with black exterior and red interior, it also has skylights he installed himself (he’s a car guy)

— he’s a big partier when it comes to drinking and smoking but is so chill about it, like he’s so calm while the rest of his friends are just screaming

— has super fast reflexes? and it’s really hot? like really really hot?

— honestly always on his phone bc he’s a tiktok guy, he doesn’t post thirst traps they’re in his drafts but he just finds the videos entertaining

— listens to a variety of music but his top choices have to be keshi, and brent faiyaz ** hes also an apple music user 🤢

— definitely has a flirty personality but is super shy but people flirt back to him, honestly a cute guy stuck in a fuck boy’s body is what i’m trying to say

— extremely respectful to his elders, will gladly help a grandma cross the street any day!

— in all, he’s definitely a 6/10 on fuck boy scale, he’s just such a sweet and respectful guy and we love him #INEEDYOUSOBADPLEASEGETO

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

ive been procrastinating so much with posting i’m sorry to my 37 followers ( appreciate y’all ) 🙁🙏

the hair omfg 😫😫😫😫

[xythlia]

𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠𝘉𝘖𝘋𝘠 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛𝘚 𝘛𝘖 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜 [𝘌𝘟-𝘏𝘜𝘚𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘓𝘜𝘊𝘐𝘍𝘌𝘙]

- ̗̀໒ WARNINGS : f!reader, alcohol consumption, nostalgia for an ex, looking at saved pictures of said ex, racy pics (irl it's never ok to keep intimate pics of an ex fyi), angst, vaginal masturbation, voice kink (kinda?), voice mail masturbation, humiliation is a big theme

- ̗̀໒ WORD COUNT : 1.6k+

omg part three! quick on a scale of 1-10 how embarrassed would u be to realize you'd accidentally sent ur ex a voicemail of u masturbating bc u were getting off on their voice...? ☺️

part two | series masterlist

You used to enjoy cooking, the art of creating a gorgeous meal. What unsettled you about it now was how every dish you made was out of proportion; clearly made by someone who has forgotten how to cook for one.

It was another joyless evening, eating in silence as you barely processed reading social media posts in the small kitchenette. Once dishes were done you still felt a discomfort, a dissatisfaction. Watching television was also not a helpful distraction, allowing your mind to slide back to the other night and make your muscles tighten at the recollection.

The two of you tasting each other's tongues as your fingers desperately twined into his inky dark strands... how even after fleeing that kiss to get tipsy in a bar with a date you hadn't bothered to call back you still thought of him. How perverse is it to gaze into anothers eyes while imagining how it used to feel when your ex-husbands cock was buried to the hilt inside you?

But even beyond that fog of lust, you missed returning to the space you once shared. How every day it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders once you both met in that quiet room. You loved coming home to Lucifer, loved feeling his arms slide around you with his lips pressed to your temple before asking "did you have a good day?".

And even further beyond that, in the depths of yourself you shied away from, you missed the warmth of his skin against yours and hearing your moans meld together in a song made for two.

Frustratedly you slam the cup that had been clutched in your hands against the counter, wrapping your arms around yourself as you trudge to the bedroom, collapsing onto it with an exaggerated sigh.

Your stretched, long and languid as a cat, enjoying the feel of the mattress beneath you and the crackle of your joints inside your pajamas. You felt ready to lose yourself in a hopefully dreamless sleep, but your eyes slide over to your phone when you remember there were some texts you'd immediately swiped away today that you should probably check before drifting off.

Rolling into your side you grope for the discarded phone before bringing it up from the blankets depths, glaring into the offensively bright screen and scrolling through the old notifications. Your thumb flicked upward, not feeling the energy to open and reply to the messages from Mammon or Asmo but pausing to hover over the old chat with Lucifer's name on it.

At the very beginning it was much harder to resist the urge to doom scroll your old messages and cry, seeing them now that same need pulled you in; thumb hitting the message bar and bringing up all your old conversations. It wasn't as much of an emotional hit as it used to be, you realized with a twinge of pride.

Still, your fingers itched to text him. But how weird would it be to get a hi how was your day? from your bitter ex? A small smile did curve your lips anyway, recalling how thrilling it used to be to see those three little dots dancing as you waited with bated breath for his messages.

Ever since that surprise kiss, nearly a week ago, you'd been reevaluating the circumstances of your divorce and about the night in particular that had solidified the end.

You'd spent the entire day getting pampered by his brothers, Asmodeus chief among them, excited and giggling like a girl on her first date. That's how it had felt, in all it's naked hopefulness. He'd promised you this time there wouldn't be any last minute excuses, no work, nothing to keep him from you; he'd guaranteed it by making the reservations for dinner himself.

And how absolutely crushing it was to down a third glass of wine under the pitying gaze of the waitstaff, realizing your husband wasn't coming. Again. Realizing there may be nothing in the world that would make him show up for you, maybe not even your own death. It had been so supremely humiliating to call him, struggling to speak through tears, begging for him to keep his word just once.

"You promised me this time it would be different, this would be the beginning of a new start. No more odd hours, no more sleeping alone, crying for even a scrap of attention from you. I just can't do this anymore..."

The memory of that sobbed confession still stung, like a fresh papercut in lemon juice. He should've reassured you, should've come running for once... but instead you swore you could hear the way he shook his head, sighing and repeating for the umpteenth time that you didn't supersede his responsibilities.

A firm frown had worked its way on to your features now, also recalling the way Asmo had bluntly told before that your divorce was a sham. Your own extreme attempt to push him away after being so wounded, rather than try to make a decision when you were clearheaded. How you'd screamed for a divorce like a banshee and stubbornly kept yourself strapped to that boat in order to hopefully wound Lucifer back just as egregiously.

What he didn't know was that you were quite aware of that, and that because Lucifer offered no pushback you saw it through- he was seemingly willing to let your divorce happen and hopefully have an easier time of things...

Yet every pound of your heart since was an I miss you.

Feeling too conflicted and squirrelly you navigated to your old album of photos together, not even realizing what you were doing before it was too late.

Your breathing hitched looking at them: candids of him from the very beginning of your relationship, pictures you'd snuck of him when you thought he looked particularly adorable and lied about deleting, then there were the ones of you two together. You felt your heart tug, wondering when did you stop being so blissfully happy?

Further down there was another album, one that made your eyes go wide and had shame flooding your bloodstream. You knew you had absolutely no right to look at them, at him, anymore but you were already firmly in a downward spiral.

The longer your eyes remained glued to those photos the more an ember of raw desire was stoked. It was fast, the way this same desire had overtaken you in the hallway before, another minute more and you would've dragged him back to that bedroom and locked the door.

What had been worse was that you'd gone to meet your date feeling how wet it had made you.

With shaking hands you drop your phone, already disgracefully soaked and needy again. It didn't help that your most intimate moments together were flashing in your mind like a slideshow on speed, hands groping your breasts through your t shirt.

You wished so badly it was his hands touching you, squeezing the soft flesh and pinching your hardened nipples to make you whine. Your hips rocked against nothing as your hands traveled downward, slipping past the waist of your bottoms.

Another hot shot of shame hit you, but it only served to feed the fire roaring inside your gut. Moaning you swiped two fingers through your wet folds, biting your lip and picturing his cock sliding through them instead.

Lightly you tease your clit, gasping as it prompts your hips to jerk again. He used to love teasing you until you were in near tears and babbling for him to just fuck you please- your moans were startling as you as you insert two fingers with that thought.

After a few minutes spent riling yourself up even more, it was frustrating that you couldn't quite reach the peak. You knew it was because he wasn't here with you, wasn't the one touching you but you would've given anything for it to be.

Propping yourself on one elbow you fumble for your phone again, recklessly pressing the call button and putting it on speaker. In seconds your fingers were back on your clit, your other hand busy teasing your nipples again as his voicemail greeting filled the tiny bedroom and bled into the slick sounds of your cunt greedily taking your fingers.

It was more than enough to push you over the edge, half moaning half sobbing through your first orgasm in a while and feeling the sticky arousal seep on to your hands as your comedown groans devolved into heavy panting. It was bliss, feeling fuzzy headed and boneless. You'd definitely drift off peacefully now-

Your eyes snapped open, blood running cold remembering that voicemails automatically record after a certain tone. Your high was immediately soured with heart pounding humiliation, anxious heat rushing underneath your skin and tears picking in your eyes.

A chorus of no repeated in your head, but it was too late. Your phone screen was back on his contact, meaning that any moment now your ex-husband is going to get and open the voicemail notification.

Your ex-husband is going to listen to a voicemail of you masturbating to him.

Pulling your knees up as you slide to sit you also clutch your head in your hands. There's no way to dismiss that, not when it's so plainly exactly what it sounds like.

In the midst of your internal hurricane of mortification, across town in his dimly lit study Lucifer sat slack jawed, pink cheeked, and sporting an uncomfortable erection after the message ended but with a renewed sense that he needed to see you again.

Maybe it was time to contemplate if this arrangement was really working out.

[nerdraging4point0]

The Scorpion and the Scales // Chapter Nine // Polyverse AU

Tropes and Tags: why choose romance, MF, MFM, MFMM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed musicians, polyverse, friends to lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), threesomes, light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, partner sharing, jealousy, angst.

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @synthetic-wasp-570 @beaker1636 @thesazzb @itsjustemily @vinyardmauro @circle-with-me @tearfallpixie @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @emofangirl02 @rumoured-whispers @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @lma1986 @cncohshit

Rick’s POV

I leave the post office with the boxes of merch that were delivered to me while we were out of town rattling in my backseat as I take the winding curves of the streets back to my house. I barely registered the quick interaction between myself and the post office lady, my mind still stuck on the awkward end of our recent tour. The last week of our quick spring and summer tour was tense, to say the least. I avoided making eye contact with Chris whenever possible, and luckily he was hardly ever around so I could avoid him altogether. We had separated for a couple of days of R&R and Chris decided to go visit his girlfriend during the break. In a moment of tipsy foolishness after a couple glasses of wine with the other guys - a solid reminder that I need to quit drinking - I made some offhand, crass comment about how Chris should send us single guys some inappropriate videos to "enjoy" while he was gone. It was a completely disrespectful, thoughtless response and I never should have said it. Not only was it demeaning to Chris's girlfriend Eve, but it also made me look like an asshole and a creep, which I never want to come across as, especially not unintentionally. Never did I actually expect Chris to go through with the vulgar suggestion I had idiotically thrown out while buzzed.

It was a normal night off for me, settling into my bed, I was ready to read and forget the multiple projects I metaphorically had stacked on the table when I opened the shared file Chris sent; my post-apocalyptic book forgotten as I was completely transfixed by what he’d sent. They were sitting on the couch Eve perched perfectly in Chris’s lap. I can hear someone else talking but the interference sounds like it’s on another phone or TV. I didn’t take the time to piece it together watching her and Chris make out had my undivided attention. They kiss for a while undisturbed before Chris breaks away kissing down her neck, hands disappearing under her shirt till he is gliding the fabric up and over her head tossing it somewhere and all I can see is her shirtless body. No bra, completely exposed, I watch Chris cup her breast bringing her taut nipple to his mouth before enclosing over it hollowing his cheeks and her head falls back.

 As I continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before my eyes on the screen, I was mesmerized by the passion and intensity of their connection. Her breaths come faster, more urgent, as he focuses his attention on her breasts, caressing and teasing her nipples with his tongue. Eve arches her back, consumed by pleasure, as Chris worships her body. They move together in perfect sync, their chemistry electric. I am voyeur to their intimacy, unable to look away from the raw sensuality of their encounter.

She moaned and mewled for him and I could feel my dick stretching and twitching in my pajama pants. I didn’t react, not at first, I couldn't. My mind argued with me, my complex telling me it was wrong, but my ego telling me “Why else would he have sent it to you, dumbass?” 

Chris’s mouth was still wrapped around her breast when a voice came through the speakers, again like it wasn’t there but there all the same. 

“Fuck baby,”  it said. I could almost recognize it, like a distant memory “I bet you’re soaking wet, huh?” Eve nodded in response, Chris traced his fingers along her skin, circling her pert nipple before pinching it between his fingers. The way her back curved and arched into his touch, craving more contact. Reaching lower, Chris slid his hand beneath the waistband of her sweats, as she bucked wildly in his lap as his fingers made contact, mouth falling open in a silent cry.

 "So wet," Chris groaned.  

I watched him guide her, rolling her over the hand hidden beneath the fabric on her legs and I sat there silently begging him to take them off.  "I bet I could make you come like this," he growled. 

"Please," The way she begs, her voice cracking with need, it’s exhilarating for me. Watching her come undone excites me in a way I don't expect, making me want to participate, to share in the ecstasy they're experiencing. I want to see her shatter for him, for us, lost in unbridled passion. The thought thrills me, sparking my own desire. 

“Fuck,” the voice growls, his words louder this time. “Beg for him again baby.” 

“You gonna be good and come for us, pumpkin?” her bottom lip between her teeth she furiously nods her head, dropping her forehead on Chris’s shoulders. Her long hair falling over her face hid the redness in her cheeks. 

Watching them, I was consumed by lustful envy, craving those swollen lips and hooded eyes for myself. I longed to be the one drawing such heady reactions from Eve's perfect form. Unable to resist,  I gathered saliva in my palm, slick and warm, before wrapping my hand around my stiffening shaft. My eyes never left Eve's writhing body as I pumped myself in time with Chris' ministrations. I was lost to desire, drunk on the vision of Eve's building pleasure and the promise of her eventual ecstasy. I moved faster, chasing my own peak even as my imagination supplied Eve's moans and the taste of her skin. We spiraled higher in tandem, three bodies united by passion if not physically together. I relished every gasp, every quiver of Eve's body, determined to memorize this exquisite torture. We balanced on the knife's edge of bliss, so close to release. All that remained was the final push over the brink into dizzying rapture.

The video ended long before I was finished and I tossed the phone off of me, tipping my head back as I imagined that face taking my cock in her mouth bobbing back and forth as I held her soft long hair between my fingers. I was spent in seconds. It wasn’t the last time I watched the video either, it was like I was a teenager who just found his favorite porn video. Sneaking off to my room–in a house I share with no one–to choke my dick in my hand to the video over and over again.

I became obsessed with the video, replaying it constantly to watch the woman's full lips wrapped around my throbbing manhood as her head bobbed rhythmically. Her long, silky hair cascaded over my thighs while I gripped it tightly, lost in ecstasy. I couldn't get enough, sneaking away whenever I could to relive those blissful moments of imagined oral pleasure. Alone in my room, I stroked myself furiously to climax again and again as the video looped, consumed by lust like a hormone-ridden adolescent who just discovered internet porn. The rapturous release was always fleeting before I craved yet another viewing. No matter how many times I watched, it never failed to transport me back to that vivid fantasy of holding her head while she eagerly pleasured me with her warm, wet mouth. My depraved fixation was out of control, but I was powerless to resist.

I take the boxes into my apartment, careful not to drop the ones stacked on top. Three large boxes almost tower over me as I walk in the door. I kick the old wood closed with the heel of my boot, just as I'm setting the boxes on the floor my phone pings from my pocket. I pull it out the screen, lighting up with a new text message from an unknown number. Probably spam, I think to myself as I open it anyway. My heart stops as I see the text realizing who exactly it is texting me.

 I click the phone shut instantly, staring at the walls like someone is watching me, realizing I had read the text but didn’t even process the words entirely. My hands shake slightly as I reopen the text taking in each word as if it’s a foreign language. 

Did you watch the whole thing? Be honest with me.

Should I respond? The phone feels heavy in my hand, her message waiting expectantly for a reply. My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I debate how to respond, if at all. 

Three dots fly on the screen loading and unloading as she types away and I can feel myself growing more anxious by the minute. With each dot's appearance and disappearance, my heart races faster. I grip my phone tighter, palms clammy with anticipation. What will her message reveal? My thoughts race, imagining the countless possibilities, each one making me more on edge. The wait feels interminable. I take a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm my nerves.

Did you enjoy it at least?

I type back a swift “yes” it seems that is a sufficient answer to both her questions. I didn’t exactly have to tell her how many times I watched it, but at this point, it isn’t lying either. I did enjoy it. I still enjoy it. 

How much?

What do you say to that? “Enough.” “I like it.” god way to sound like a dick. But if I tell her I get off to it almost twice a day then I’m gonna sound like a creep. I debate responding at all, is it Chris playing a prank on me? Seeing how loyal I am? How loyal she is? 

My fingers fly across my keyboard typing out my message reading each sentence and then rereading to make sure I clearly make my point. 

It’s good. I like it. But if you want me to delete it from my phone I will. I mean, to be honest, you should talk to Chris about this. 

She doesn’t respond right away and I start opening boxes and sorting through the merch I’ve ordered making sure everything is as I want it to be before releasing it on my website. My phone finally pings and I reach out opening the text with anticipation. 

Show me.

What? I furrow my own brows to the question as if she can see me from the other side of the world or maybe a few towns over, to be honest, I have no idea where she and Chris are; he’s always been an extravagant traveler. 

I don’t think it’s appropriate…

That's all I can say to her. I can’t throw Chris under the bus and I can’t criticize her for asking. It’s hard to be polite when really you have nothing polite to say, not everyone is as much a fan of brazen conversation as I am. 

Why not? Because Chris sent the video and you think I didn’t know? I’m curious, we Gemini’s are like that, I want to know. Do I have to be blunt, Rick? Then fine, I'll be blunt. How many times have you watched it? How many times have you stroked yourself to it? Does watching me get fucked turn you on?

My mind feels electrified, sparking with curiosity and a hunger to delve deeper into meaningful discussion. I crave more of this intellectual high. In the past, my ex’s never were able to meet my expectations with conversation, and for me I always felt frustratingly opaque. Previous partners tip-toed gingerly into heady topics, expecting me to read between the lines of their coy allusions and subtle hints. I played along in these tedious games of cat-and-mouse, but they always left me unsatisfied. While those shy, demure ladies had their appeal in certain moments, I yearned for a partner who could be blunt and direct with me. I wanted someone confident and comfortable enough in her own skin to plainly state her thoughts, opinions, desires, and needs. I am a meticulous, detail-oriented person at heart, and nothing gets me more excited than when someone paints me a vivid, explicit picture with their words. I don't want to have to parse and analyze hidden meanings or vagueness. Just give it to me straight. 

I can feel my cock twitching in my pants growing hard as I read and reread her texts. The vivid images from the video replayed in my head like a home movie. I've seen them so many times I could recall the details easily. I unbutton my pants and pull them down just enough to let my dick and balls free, bunching my hand underneath my balls to give them a lift like I've seen so many women do with their tits in photos. I stare at myself for a minute, slightly unimpressed with how it looks, but that’s my own vanity I suppose. I feel self-conscious as I take my phone in hand, snapping a photo of what is in front of me. 

She asked. I reiterate to myself as I stare at the photo, the lens changing how it all looks and I analyze my own photo with critical eyes. I could spend hours critically telling myself it could be better, maybe from a different angle, like there is any angle that is gonna make a dick look appealing to a woman. I sent the photo anyway, turning my status to ‘Do Not Disturb’ before retreating to my room to watch that stupid video all over again. 

Eve’s POV

“Why is there a picture of Rick’s dick in your texts?”

The loud accusation cut through the quiet kitchen air as I stood at the sink, my hands plunged in soapy water as I scrubbed the remnants of our dinner from the pots and pans. I didn't even turn to look at Chris, continuing to methodically circle the sponge over the cast iron skillet, removing the last bits of melted cheese. "Because," I replied evenly, keeping my voice calm despite the anger rising within me. "It's only fair that I get some kind of enjoyment out of it."

“But, you didn’t say…” 

I spin around, dish brush in hand, fixing him with an obvious look of irritation. He pauses, seeing my expression. “No, you asked if you could send the video," I begin, "but you knew damn well I wasn’t the only one you needed to ask. So when I mentioned it to Noah, he was understandably upset. It took him a few days to cool down, but after all that drama, I started wondering if Rick actually hated the video or secretly enjoyed it. So I asked Noah if I could text Rick and ask him directly, and Noah gave me permission to do so. So I did."

"But you didn't ask me," he replies, clearly upset but keeping his voice level.

"How does it feel?" I shoot back, feeling petty and vindictive.

"That's very petty of you," he says, stepping closer with his arms crossed over his bare, tattooed chest. "You talk about boundaries and respect, and now you pull this shit."

I stay silent because he's right. I acted petty and angry, lashing out without really understanding why. My actions contradict my values of open communication and mutual respect within relationships. Even though I felt justified in the moment, I can see now that I should have talked to him first before contacting Rick behind his back. 

As he whips out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen, I can only imagine the venomous words he is unleashing towards Rick in a private text - petty payback for some perceived slight or disagreement between them. A tense silence descends, broken only by the tapping of the phone keyboard. He stops abruptly, turning his back on me as he returns to his video game, the sounds of simulated violence punctuating the room. My heart sinks as my own phone vibrates, signaling an incoming message. Drying my hands, I cross the room to retrieve it with a growing feeling of dread. As I open the text, the tears well up in my eyes. 

Chris has created a group chat featuring myself, Noah, himself, and Rick. I can already envision the hurtful words and accusations that will be lobbed between them like grenades, inflicting emotional shrapnel on us all. Glancing up, I see Chris hunched over his game controller, blasting away at pixelated enemies, oblivious to the damage he has just unleashed in the real world.  But as I open the text and read his words  my heart stops.

I’m sorry I overstepped. I was inconsiderate of boundaries and hope that you can accept my heartfelt apology. 

I flip my phone down on the table crawling slowly, almost timidly, over the back of the couch, seeking to mend the rift between us. As I settle in next to him, I drape both of my arms around one of his, hugging it close to me. I nuzzle my face against his shoulder, breathing in the comforting, familiar scent of his shirt. The muscles in his shoulders, knotted and tight just moments before, begin to loosen and relax. My silent snuggles tell him how sorry I am for the harsh words spoken earlier.

“I love you pumpkin,” his words make me still next to him, his game paused but his eyes still focused on the screen in front of him, “And I am so sorry.” 

I nuzzle into his arm again pulling him into me tight. Hearing my phone vibrate in the background the sound echoed by Chris’s own device and I know the group chat has a response-but even if the boundaries were broken and not all could be forgiven I knew in this moment there was only one thing to be said, one thing that mattered. “I love you too, Chris.”

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

Summary: How different Vikings characters would react to a normally unaffectionate reader becoming very clingy/cuddly once they get tipsy

Notes: Me??? posting?? it's crazy ik

Taglist: @bragisrunes @demon-of-the-ancient-world @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @alicedopey, @ivarlover @batmandallyboy @akayxo09 (hmu to be added to any kind of taglist!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN! (but might take a while)

Ragnar

Whaat this is crazy

He so didn’t totally expect this from you

Calls you a lightweight and teases you

Full well knowing you won’t get angry at him this time

Lagertha

She’s the type to raise an eyebrow

Watches you be super nice to all your friends with an amused smile

Gives you a cup of water to help you sober up

Enjoys the attention way too much

Aslaug

Sober up? Aslaug will pour you another cup

Takes full advantage of the affection

Pretends like it never happened when you ask her the next day

Gets giggly when you get giggly

Athelstan

So confused

I hc that for some reason Athelstan can drink his fill so he never gets tipsy

Why are you suddenly so nice?

You like him????

More than a little suspicious

Ubbe

‘oh gods’

He already has Hvitserk crying his heart out and now you’re starting to smile??

Honored

Makes you sober up for his sake

Hvitserk

You can try to be more affectionate than him

Drunk Hvitserk is smiling, cuddling, eating

He’s tailing Ivar, telling him all about how much he loves his brother Ivar without realizing that its him

But he still gets even happier when he sees you

Sigurd

Don’t expect him not to be drunk while you are

Also super affectionate drunk

A bundle of hugs

Will make you sing scales if you try to sing a song

Ivar

Hates that his hardened warrior is melting (does not hate it)

Why are they suddenly cuddly and all smiley?

Ugh this will ruin their reputation!!!

Totally enjoys the attention

Thorunn

At your feet

Immediately

She’s never seen you like this and she loves it. A lot.

Becomes affectionate in turn

[lucy-sky]

Happy Birthday, dear Amaya @darlingshane​ !!! I swear I didn’t forget about you, but due to technical difficulties (internet at work sucks big time -_-) I’m posting this only now :’) It’s just a little drabble about Shane, just some image that came to my mind while thinking about a possible birthday present. There’s a small pinch of angst, but I hope it’s okay, I just think soft Shane is a good thing :’) I hope you had a great day today, enjoyed tasty food and good company, and I’m sending you a huuuuuge virtual hug! You’re one of my favorite people in the whole internet, and I’m so so happy I got to know you! Happy Birthday!!!

Whiskey and Chocolate (Shane Walsh x Reader)

982 words; some alcohol, some hurt/comfort; making out, Shane’s bare chest; AO3 link

This little cabin in the middle of the woods was literally heaven-sent, you think, as you stand at the window, watching the raindrops sliding down the glass surface. 

Murphy’s law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Today you really felt that when the car you and Shane took for a supply run broke down on the way back. That was unfortunate for sure, but you thought it’s not a big deal - you were already not that far, so you took the backpacks and decided to go a-foot. And everything went well… Until it started to rain. Just a small drizzle at first, it soon became a full scale pouring rain. You already walked far enough from the car to return, so you kept going with growing frustration until you finally saw this tiny house hidden among the trees.

The place seemed to be abandoned for a while. Maybe its resident went on a supply run as well and never came back? Who knows. You were just glad to find a shelter and some dry and clean shirts in the wardrobe to borrow.

You stand at the window with your arms crossed, trying to get yourself warm. The owner of the cabin was apparently a really… big man - you couldn’t find any pants that wouldn’t slip down your ass, but at least he had plenty of cozy flannel shirts that manage to cover everything, as if you’re wearing a dress.

“You alright?” Shane’s voice behind your back breaks the silence and you turn your head to glance at him. The clothes are a bit too big even for him, but at least he found a pair of sweats. 

“Yep, I’m fine,” you murmur, returning your gaze to the rainy pattern on the window.

“Really? You’ve been awfully quiet all day.”

“What’s wrong about being quiet?” you shrug.

“C’mon, darlin’. I know you.”

Well shit, maybe he does. For a couple of seconds you’re considering just telling him that you’re tired, wet and cold, and that’s it, but you know this answer won’t satisfy him.

“It’s just really not how I expected to celebrate my birthday,” you finally say.

“Wait, what? It’s your birthday? Shit… For real?”

“Well uh… Sometimes I’m not sure what day it is anymore, but yeah… I think so,” you chuckle a bit bitterly.

“Okay… Okay. Wait here, I’ll just-” 

You turn away from the window once again, to find Shane raking round his backpack for something.

“Uh-huh!” he smirks wickedly, holding out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

“No way… Where’d you find it? I swear I saw nothing in the alcohol aisle…” 

“Behind the counter, baby. Guess the cashier was hiding one for himself,” Shane raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “I mean, whiskey’s not as romantic as a bottle of wine, or, I don't know… champagne? But… May I offer?...” 

Why the hell not? At least you’ll finally get warm.

“Fine. I think I had some chocolate bars…”

“So you’re officially old now, huh?” Shane teases. He looks relaxed and a little tipsy, his shirt is unbuttoned and you stare at his broad chest more than you’d like to admit.

“Shut up!” you throw a candy bar wrapper at him and this idiot laughs with such unconstrained laughter that it’s hard not to laugh with him. You’re tipsy as well, cheeks flushed from warmth and laughter, and partly from his closeness and his shamelessly exposed boobs chest. It feels like you’re a couple of teenagers, silly and lightheaded.

“How’s that, darlin’? Feelin’ better?” Shane drawls, handing you the bottle after taking another sip. 

“Yeah. Much better,” you nod. It’s already dark outside, the rain keeps pouring behind the window, and the small kitchen lit by a couple of candles you found in the cupboard feels surprisingly warm and cozy, as if there’s no danger behind these walls. You just wish you could stay in this warm bubble together with Shane and never get back to reality. 

The whiskey burns in your throat a little, making you wince.

“Hey, Walsh,” you tell him, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “I mean… That’s the least I could…”

“It’s not about whiskey, just… Thanks for making me feel less lonely today. I mean… I know the world’s a crazy place right now, but when I think about how it was only a year ago, I-” you take a deep breath, trying to hold back tears with no success. You hate to break the mood like that, but you blame it on alcohol - apparently it’s that stage where you become a little angsty. “Nevermind, I think I’m just drunk already,” you shake your head and smile, trying to play it cool, but when you meet his dark eyes, there’s unmistakeable concern in them.

“Hey, hey… come on, sweetheart… C’mere,” Shane’s voice is soft and soothing as he offers you a hand, and you take it, getting up from your chair to approach him. He cups your face, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I know…” he whispers quietly. “But I’m right here, okay? You’re not alone, yeah?”

You nod as he pulls you closer, urging you to straddle his lap, and his kiss is slow and deep, and tastes like chocolate and whiskey, and you’re not sure what exactly makes your head spin - alcohol or his tongue gently exploring your mouth, or maybe his hands that find their way underneath the flannel to caress your bare skin. You didn’t know he could kiss with such tenderness. Shane’s kisses are usually rough, passionate, furious. You love it, you’re not gonna deny, but the way he kisses you now feels like a next step, a new level of intimacy.

Before every coherent thought leaves your head, before you lose yourself in the kisses and touches, you manage to think the two of you just managed to beat the goddamn Murphy’s law tonight.

Thank you for reading :’)

[gojoho]

so i’m kinda new here but i love it and i wish to thank you for the treasures you’ve shared with us! but anyways i would like to ask for Toji maybe a tipsy-roommate feel if that’s okay with you

✑ w. intoxication, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk, manipulation/gaslighting innuendos, soft dom toji

✑ n. first off, welcome anon and thank you for your kind words! means a lot that you enjoy my posts. so, im not doing asks at the moment because of my writer’s block and how sporadic i am, but i did have something similar already in my drafts so i hope this was okay. my apologies.

toji fushiguro

he’s as sober as he is drunk; the real curse behind his oh so heavenly restriction. the old dog can’t even enjoy a good drink but he’s always the first one to start the bottle. the first one to make the move—there were other ways to get a good buzz.

“doesn’t seem fair only one of us gets too feel good,” he’d murmur against your skin, unabashed about his wanton fingers slipping past the hem of your shorts or brushing up along the crux of your heat. “what do you say, kid? why don’t we balance things out?”

despite being only a few years younger, he was adamant on the nickname, no matter how much you hated it. however between his chameleonic charm and the alcohol, it doesn’t take much to convince you. consequently his idea of balance is down another bottle and you straddled around his lap, keeping steady over his hefty flushed cock. with nowhere to go but down the middle and up again until you’re finally stuffed full, feeling every ample vein, whining about just how big he is.

“oh baby,” he’d moan, his large hands scaling your shuddering thighs before generously filling themselves with the plush of your ass. “but you take me so well, riding my dick like that.”

toji’s tongue is as vulgar as it is warm, yet you still suck it down like a vice. your soft moans from his tightening grasp around your waist turning into desperate whimpers as he bucks up into your throbbing walls with a crude pace. his plump tip cozying up against that spot that makes you melt right through your first orgasm, and lull in the second with a tight squeeze.

“there you go baby, make us feel good.” he’s dazed with your spasms against him, and maybe bit too possessive in his grip when you stuff his head into your chest while bouncing on his cock in vain. aching and desperate, his name falls from your tongue as a velvety mantra. a stroke to his bruised ego, and a spark to a hot white flame deep in the apex of his thighs. then and only then does that buzz kick in, putting spots in his vision, and taming his visceral growls into soft hums across your collarbone. “too good for me.”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎! reblogs & interactions are appreciated !

[icharchivist]

great thanks! now time to wonder about the tolerance of all my favorite primals. so sandalphons is pretty low,,, gabriel and rosetta are up there,,,, good to know, good to know,,,, mhm,,,,

oh hell yeah.

So we have a pretty good scale already with that.

Sandalphon is probably a sick drunk all the way, with his temper getting worse probably while drunk. Very angry boy.

Gabriel and Rosetta meanwhile probably are barely affected by alcohol and can drink for a long time, at worst they can be even more teasing than they were already but that's old news, and the next morning she'll be fine.

and now that we have this scale we can see the rest.

and here's my HCs if you want them

Belial for instance probably has a high tolerance and doesn't get drunk easily, if he does, he probably gets more horny (we can hope for him being more angsty, but, if only.). I'd imagine him not having any hangover the next day. But imagining him with one is really funny so i'm torn on what to think.

Lucifer meanwhile probably has a low tolerance. Gets flustered, gets absolutely no filter, he tells everything he has in his mind, the problem is that it's mostly about how he cares about people around him so he's embarassing as hell. Would probably hug Sandalphon while drunk. The next morning he would have just completely forgotten the previous night.

in the other four primarches, i'd say Uriel is a heartly drunk, always laughing, always loud. probably not sick the next day, but he has the best post-hangover remedies. Raphael probably has high tolerance and is rather quiet.

Michael's tolerance is a bit in the middle, she can drink quite a bit before she ends up acting drunk. Once drunk she probably gets overly passionate about something again. Would boss everyone around her to act out some play with her, completely drunken, because the skies are a stage and they need to act NOW. She'd be miserable the next morning.

Sariel.... I don't see him drink a lot. Would imagine him be a sleepy drunk, easily just nodding off. The next morning he feels a little sick but nothing too bad.

Hal&Mal become insanely more flirty when drunk, and probably are constantly trying to set you up in relationship with someone. They're alright the next morning tho.

Azazel would be even stupider than ever which is honestly truly impressive. He'd totally get into fights. He'd remember none of it the next day but wonder why he's sick.

Metattron doesn't get drunk. He's constantly trying to watch over everyone to make sure nothing bad happens. So he never allow himself to get drunk. Not sure for his tolerance.

Grimnir gets drunk easily and is just Grimnir x10000000. Louder than ever. Type to climb on tables to do his monologues. Absolutely pitiful the next day though, whining the whole time about how sick he feels.

Shiva probably doesn't get drunk, or if he does he probably is similar to Lucifer in term of his appreciation of the world. Next morning he's a champ, no forgetting, no nothing, just a normal day for him.

Europa gets tipsy and flirty when drunk. More flustered than ever, probably in need of supervision so she doesn't kiss someone on accident. Probably kissed Alexiel at some point because of that. Gabriel has to take care of her most of the time to get her girlfriend back. If she remembers the next morning she acts like she doesn't.

Alexiel would be loud and start bar brawl. Her honorable front falling for the thrill of a good fight. Probably highly more likely to be embarassed and act out on her embarassment with violence. She has a horrible hangover the next morning and threatens anyone who wants to bring it up.

Zooey and Geo would both be easily drunk, and likely to get into fight with people. Zooey about balance, Geo about primal rights. Zooey probably has to be the one to wrestle with Geo. Zooey doesn't really remember much the next morning but Geo does and is fuming. (Yuni looks like a child so no bar would give her any alcohol, and Zooey and Cosmos probably wouldn't allow it anyway. She drinks fruit juice).

Cosmos would probably just be rather calm, i don't see her getting drunk easily, always trying to be in control of herself. Not to passionate, not anything. She'd have a headache the next morning though.

Noa has high tolerance, and no hangover. He's with Rosetta and Gabriel in the teasing gang though.

Medusa gets drunk easily and is unbearable. Constantly starting fight, constantly yelling at people, barely held together by Satyr trying to calm her down. Miserable the next morning but she remembers everything and is extremely embarassed by her behavior.

Satyr is a happy drunk. She giggles she tells jokes, she tries to have everyone be friendly, she tries to befriend the whole bar. She's alright the next morning.

Nezah is a gamble. He'll either be calm and normal as if nothing happened, but, if anything ends up titillating his bloodthirsty side he WILL start a bar brawl and you will be unable to stop him else he'll start hitting you. Doesn't remember anything the next morning, but is okay.

Baal is probably the assigned Sober Primal Pal because everyone would cause a mess otherwise. I can't really imagine him drunk, but he'd probably be even more curt and sarcastic, and probably would be insulting people on accident. But he's overall okay. Probably sleepy the next day though because of the energy to keep everything in control.

Freyr is a sad drunk who just ends up thinking more about how much his life sucks when he's drunk. He's just as miserable the next morning.

Athena would probably try not to drunk much in order to stay always on the ready, but i'd imagine her getting tipsy if she drinks a little too much. Enyo probably tries to get her to drink specifically to see her loosen her walls for a bit and maybe eventually take advantage of it. Athena remembers the next morning and is mortified even though she didn't do anything bad the previous day, just because she lost control a bit.

Enyo has a moderate tolerance but would be inclined to do even more murder if you let her. Probably would try to provoke Athena and/or make out with her. She'd be okay the next morning.

Lich wonders why you even invited her and drunks her anxiety away about being around multiple people. Her anxiety doesn't go away with drinking and eventually you hear her shrinks in horror because too many people are around her. The next morning she has the worst of headache and refuses to see anyone.

Poseidon has a high tolerance and probably encourages other people to drunk only to judge them all evening. Might flirt with Lowain if he's around. He's okay the next morning but he is going to remind everyone who was drinking with him of how pitiful they were and WILL judge you.

I can't imagine Sylph drink, so i'll put her on sleepy drunk if she ends up doing so.

Vira is in the primal beast list so i'll do her too, but she'd have low tolerance and would ramble so much about how much she loves Katalina and be even more clingy. Lowain would say she's just like usual. but Vira is also much more likely to draw her blade against him while Drunk. But Lowain would still say "yeah like usual". she'd be miserable the next morning though.

Then all that's left is like, the starting primals (Tiamat, Yggy ect) but i don't really have much idea for that. Tiamat might end up be more easily angry, Yggy more easily sleepy, but that's about as far as i can go.

I have the tier list of primal character opened to answer this ask, if i didn't include someone from this list in this post it's because i'm either uninspired or don't know them enough.

AND THIS IS my drunk primal HCs masterpost, thank you for your time o7

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Reviewing Kanto Gym Leader/Elite 4 Music

Today, Tipsy is watching “All Elite 4 Soundtracks [GEN 1-9] 2022″ and she realised that not only are there an ungodly total of 4 Kanto tracks on this video, it’s also missing “Kanto Gym Leader” from Generation 2 and 4′s Johto games (because they’re not the E4 themes), which brings us to a total of six Kanto gym leader remixes in the core series alone, excluding the anime, spinoff games, or Super Smash Bros. 

Here is my review of each of them. 

Generation 1 (the original, Red/Blue/Yellow): Very high energy. I can tell that they put everything they had into this track and pushed the Gameboy to its limits. What I like about it is how victorious and yet intimidating it is, it’s a friendly intense battle. I think this track captures what makes Pokemon music good. It fits exactly what it was made for. 

For some reason, I can only find Pokeli’s edit of the theme with added Pokemon sounds. Even compilation videos like the one at the top of this post use this version. 

Generation 2 (Gold/Silver/Crystal): If the last version of this theme was intimidating but cheerful, this version scraps the cheer completely and focuses on the fight. I don’t actually like it as much as its predecessor, there’s not nearly as much energy, but it’s so hype to get to Kanto after playing through Johto and hear remixes of all your favourite tracks. I love how on some repeats, this version changes up the instruments rather than having a straight loop. Unfortunately the GSC versions of the gym leaders never scaled up with each battle, so it’s a bit forgettable. 

Generation 3 (Fire Red/Leaf Green): Heck yes, back on the bullshit with EVERYTHING HAPPENING ALL THE TIME, and it’s emphasized even more by how they seem to use every instrument available on the gameboy in this track. Because of the GBA’s sound system using compressed audio, this version actually sounds way dirtier than its Gameboy counterparts. This is also hard to listen to with how chaotic it is. However it’s all good fun, I’d say while I prefer the original, this is a good evolution of it and fits Gen 3 well. 

Generation 4 (Heart Gold/Soul Silver): Holy SHIT that intro!!! The intro is way longer than the Gold and Silver version, I’d say in general it’s a huge improvement, adding a final verse before the loop where the music is higher just like in the original before moving down to the GS low key. Like all the battle music in HGSS, this feels like a battle for your life. Again, the actual battle is not as strong as Johto gym leaders, but it’s so nostalgic, a true sequel to FRLG. This sounds much better than Gen 3′s compressed trumpets and guitar. Makes me want to pick up Soul Silver, but I need to complete Platinum again before I can touch it... 

Generation 5 (Black 2/White 2): With this gen they went back to the drawing board - rather than emphasizing the chaotic core instruments like Gen 3 and 4, instead they DE-emphasized the main tune, returned to more chiptune sounds like the original, and put the background synth in the spotlight!! That synth bar at 1:58 and 2:17? That is sex. I love this experiment. It blends in with the rest of the music in gen 5, which knocks it down a bit, but compared to the other versions of Kanto Gym Leader it’s refreshing and new. Gen 5 was going for a different sound after the designers got sick and tired of the same pseudo orchestra noises across the last two gens. 

Aaaaa??? I can’t add any more videos. T_T  

Nintendo Switch (Let’s Go Pikachu/Eevee): Hell yes, now we are finally on modern technology, with the Nintendo Switch’s audio giving Game Freak the full power they need to make an Anime tribute version of the theme. That’s right, the battle music in LGPE is supposed to sound like the anime. Full orchestra, baby! With this cool guitar serving an undercurrent to the whole thing. It sounds kind of like a Xenoblade version of the theme, which means after a minute of listening my brain switches off, but I think objectively this is the easiest to listen to other than the original, because of how natural it sounds. So many layers, but none of them intrusive and irritating. 

BONUS: The original Anime theme from 1995: Dear god, this is SUCH an 80s/90s style piece of music, the progression, the “boop boop boop” synth noise, the switch to a sudden guitar solo, the constant change in instruments just like in the Gen 3 version... I think if Game Freak had the resources, they’d have made the games sound like this. It’s got that almost pseudo jazz style that they have fallen in love with in recent years. 

[tipsy-scales]

I saw this meme & had a laughing fit thinking about it as 9S texting 2B so here you go

[constitutionalweasleymonarchy]

ANDY: Sunday

From the flash fic collection Days That End In Y

prompt: fireworks

(This ficlet also submitted for @perceptual-prompts open prompt challenge - prompt card #3 lyrics "one of those nights when you feel the fire is burning." Apologies for submitting early for this prompt card - I'm also on this chronological posting schedule for my overall 30 days of Percy fluff!)

.

On the scale of how Percy would enjoy spending his time, a New Year’s celebration fell somewhere between sorting out an extreme doxy infestation and testing some of George’s products in development.

It was an inherently awkward holiday if you weren’t partnered off, even if you weren’t otherwise bothered about that. Not that Percy was exactly swimming in invitations — but even spending it with family could be tedious. And forget absolutely anything to do with being anywhere near a pub.

So as London sparked with revelry, Percy checked his letterbox in the foyer of his building (for appearances, and to throw out junk mail). Two women cackled and clambered down the stairs on high heels, and Percy returned their holiday greeting absently, flipping through the post — all adverts — and tossing it in the bin. The ladies continued outside, exchanging flirtatious commentary with someone else, and when Percy heard the voice that replied he glanced up again.

It was his upstairs neighbour Andy, making his way inside with two bulging bags of shopping in his arms.

“Alright?” Andy greeted Percy when he saw him there. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his knitted cap a bit askew as he balanced his shopping and caught his breath.

“Alright. Can I help you with that?”

“Thanks.” Andy allowed Percy to take half his burden as they made their way upstairs.

Halfway up, Andy glanced referentially over Percy’s attire — joggers and a pullover.

“No plans for New Year?” he guessed.

“Nah.” Percy didn’t elaborate. “You?”

Andy shook his head. “I was meant to go to a big do, but I split up with someone a few weeks ago and didn’t really care to find new plans, you know?”

“Seems to be going around,” said Percy by way of neutral but personable response — even though it had been several months now since he’d split up with Cecily.

“Cheers, thanks,” said Andy when they’d reached the top floor and he’d unlocked his door. Percy handed over his shopping, wished him Happy New Year, and headed back to his own flat.

Not twenty minutes later, Percy heard a knock at his door. On the other side was Andy, rocking back a bit on his heels, his hands tucked halfway into the pockets of fitted trousers.

“Hey.” Andy ran a hand across the back of his neck before gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Look, I was just gonna put a pizza in and watch the BBC. If you want to…” He shrugged.

It seemed innocuous enough, and Andy seemed nice enough, and it wasn’t as though Percy was opposed to making friends, and anyway it would be a bit rude to refuse, wouldn’t it?, and it wasn’t as though he had anything else to — 

“All right,” he decided. He glanced down at himself, adding, “Should probably change, I suppose.”

“Not too fussed about it, mate. Dress code’s casual.”

“Right.”

The last few hours of Percy’s twenty-fifth New Year’s Eve were full of pizza (which did not set off any fire alarms) and beer and surprisingly easy conversation. Andy, it turned out, had three brothers, and commiserating on that topic alone could have fueled Percy for hours (or years).

Andy loved to talk — not in the way that Percy did, but the way some people have of cracking on about the smallest of things; unflaggingly cheery in a way that might become tiresome after a while but which was quite diverting in the moment.

Andy also got a bit giggly when he was tipsy, which was… adorable, frankly. Percy had never in his life applied that word to another man, but there it was, and Percy would have to sort out whatever the hell that was about later.

For now he kept watching Andy’s hands — gesturing as he talked, peeling the label off his beer bottle, resting carelessly at the end of an outstretched arm along the back of the sofa where they were sat; toned biceps flexing against the sleeves of his shirt. And when Andy clapped Percy on the shoulder as he got up to fetch another round, it sent a jolt straight down the centre of Percy’s body.

He tried not to think too much about it, but it was impossible in the hush that befell them at 11.59 — the air so thick you could get stuck in it; could do nothing but exchange flimsy smiles every so often as you waited for this moment in which you were not participating to pass.

The south-facing window was open a bit and it seemed Percy could hear the entire city counting down, and whilst the view was impeded, at midnight he could still see the glow of fireworks over the Thames.

“Happy New Year, hey?” he offered companionably as the streets outside erupted in shouts and cheers and song.

“Yeah.”

Andy’s hazel eyes met his brown and then they both looked away. Percy was sat very still, but he bit the inside of his lip, puffed up one cheek with air, concentrated on releasing it with a near-silent pop, because he needed to do something or else he’d — 

“Fuck it,” they blurted out in unison, turning and snapping together like magnets — an artless meeting of lips at first, but not an ounce of hesitation in the embrace.

They stopped, breathless, pulled apart just enough to lock eyes again.

Percy hardly knew what to make of this; could hardly name his own feelings. But he also couldn’t hear the fireworks over the sound of his own heartbeat, and Andy was warm and solid, and really it was impossible to think under these conditions.

It was Percy who came back in for more, and Andy who let him, sighing into one another as the world sang and cheered the new year. They did not break away until long after the fireworks had stopped exploding; the neon glow fading over the Thames but still burning in his cheeks under the inferno of Andy’s hands.

[writer59january13]

Dynamic reef flexion within the restless Earth

Continental drift spelled birth once spelled Pangaea, in early geologic time, a supercontinent that incorporated almost all the landmasses on Earth. While rifling through mine treasure trove of poems, yours truly chanced upon satisfactorily worded geological event where plate tectonics wrought subterranean violent transformation about a half dozen years ago.

Rust never sleeps courtesy zinc

without rhyme nor reason ye shan't

blame Neptune for unleashing

Indonesian tragic phenomena

just by his innocent wink

merely intended by regular

casual reminder

for Earthlings to think seriously how (inhabited

linkedin chain of islands,)

yea kinda resembling a slink key, within the ring of fire, a large 40,000 km (25,000 mi) horseshoe shape, - Yukon also envision a vague watery rink encompassing basin of Pacific Ocean, where e'en the subtlest plink (no doubt unintentional), thus absolutely necessary for inhabitants

to catch the latest drift (albeit continental), he gave forewarning

just days prior, possibly relayed after getting tipsy from overdrink, hence warning not taken seriously, where majority resident didst think a practical joke got played,

yet a coterie of attentive people

accoutered in faux mink (dressed to the nines fur a gala fete also taken by surprise,

no one sensed any sudden high jink then the cleaners), and really the entire population sustained strong kinship with what they believed

tubby reasonable god (a carry over from Greco Roman Times font size 12),

hence could never suspect,

he would hoodwink boy (and girl), whar they ever wrong, come Friday, 28 September 2018 at 17:02h military time, or 7:02 post meridiem

an earthquake measuring 7.4 on Richter magnitude scale leaving Indonesian island

of Sulawesi in total ruins, from said rat fink

and additionally webbed, wide whirling countersink triggered a massive tsunami razing humongous chink essentially wiping off the map

in an eye blink, whereat his lordship

could not be reached, thus survivors bethink sum - man tricks brought watership down, ah buoy big boon dog gull upon his head, boot nonetheless coon sitter ably less of Neptune!

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 6/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

TW's for this chapter: Drankin'/alcohol.

---

Almost all of your closet was in piles on your bed. You held up a pink blouse and stared at yourself in the mirror.

A few years ago, you jumped at the chance to mark your body as yours. Tendrils of the Lifestream climbed up your belly, over your sternum, between your breasts, flowering to life over your ribcage. The tattoo artist chose a vibrant green ink that seemed to glow against your skin. A matching tendril of vines and flowers climbed up your left arm from cuff to elbow. The pain of the needle had been exquisite, tearing you open from collarbone to groin in a baptism.

You usually buttoned your collared work shirts up high enough to hide the tattoo. Some of your blouses threatened the tattoo's edges, but unless someone looked closely, they wouldn’t be able to tell you had tattoos at all. 

You swapped the blouse for a turtleneck. Even so, you didn't need high-level executives asking awkward questions about what it meant, or if tattoos hurt. Worse still was Hojo himself: he didn’t need any more excuse to cut you off at the knees. No, best to wear the turtleneck.

You nodded in satisfaction and turned from the mirror. It was already 7 PM; you were running late.

The honeybee charm felt leaden in your back pocket. You hadn’t bothered to wrap it: Sephiroth needed to understand that this was not a gift, but a simple repayment of earlier kindness. A favor for a favor.

After this party, you could be alone again.

---

The 63rd-floor cafeteria was bustling. Meager streamers dangled across the floor-to-ceiling windows; cardboard snowflakes drifted along the glass. An enterprising intern had tied gold balloons along the stairway leading up to the employee lounge. Grating holiday music blared from the jukebox. Already, the space was packed with administrators, scientists, engineers, and others across all of R&D. Judging by the volume, most everyone was tipsy and intent on getting sloshed. 

You gave your coat and bag to the (overly-enthusiastic) coat check attendant and scurried through the crowd. No sign of the 1st-Classes yet. You waved feebly at the few people who greeted you.

Hojo was holding court by one of the windows. You opted instead to scale the staircase. The open bar and refreshments tables came into view, and you sighed in relief. The crowd was sparser up here, less peppered with people you recognized. If you managed to hide up here, you wouldn't have to make nice with anyone you didn’t want to see.

Without thinking, you snatched a glass of champagne off of the bar and took a swig. It was heady, expensive stuff, airy in your throat as it went down. You nursed your champagne as you walked the seemingly endless food table: a cheese plate with more offerings than you could name; a selection of fruit; endless varieties of sushi; tiny vegan sliders with company flags on red toothpicks.  An ice sculpture of the Shinra logo dominated the table, swimming in a bowl of red punch that reeked of sake even from where you were standing. An enormous sheet cake sat at the end of the table amongst the desserts:

35 YEARS OF EXCELLENCE SHINRA R&D

It already had generous portions sliced out. Evidently, you had missed some opening ceremony. 

“Professor!” A warm hand landed on your shoulder: Lazard in a light-up reindeer sweater. “Glad you could make it.”

You smiled. “Sir.”

He gestured towards your glass with his own. “Already filled up, I see. Smart girl.”

There was a foolproof script you followed at company events: be more excited than you actually were, drink more than you wanted to, and don’t talk work. You smiled gamely, lifted the champagne. “It’s the best part of being here, right?”

“Agreed.” The two of you clinked glasses. Lazard gestured towards the food table. “Eat, drink, be merry. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Someone shouted for Lazard towards the sofas on the other end of the lounge, and Lazard drifted away. You sighed in relief and took another gulp of champagne.

The paper plates were laughably tiny; you could barely squish three cubes of cheese and a couple of crackers together. Someone had opened up the outdoor balcony; winter air danced around your shoulders as you browsed. Outside, you could hear people laughing, smell the acrid tang of cigarette smoke. You popped a cheese cube into your mouth.

A furor erupted downstairs; half the lounge rushed down the staircase. You retreated into the shadows. 

There they are. 

Applause and shouting greeted the 1st-Classes downstairs. You picked at the cheese on your plate, your champagne going lukewarm in your hands. Maybe, while everyone was occupied, you could go see what they had on offer for sushi before it got too warm.

As you picked through the food table, the crowd moved up the staircase, murmuring with excitement. You willed yourself not to turn around, becoming very interested in a spicy tuna roll. Just play nice, you thought to yourself. One hour, then you can go home.

Thankfully, the crowd seemed to disperse upon hitting the lobby. Several other people joined you at the food table: other scientists, some 1st-Classes you had never seen before. Yun clapped you on the back, causing you to lurch forward and nearly drop the dragon roll you had picked up; by the time you set it on your plate, he had disappeared into the crowd, his husband in tow. You gulped the last of your champagne and made for your secluded corner.

Sephiroth’s voice cut through the roar of the crowd: “Hey, you.”

His black sweater looked just this side of too tight on his frame; without the pauldrons, he looked much smaller, almost manageable. His hands were bare; he rubbed them together against a blast of cold air from the balcony.

“Hi.” You put the empty champagne glass on a side table, where a nameless waiter immediately whisked it away. Sephiroth’s eyes followed it.

He cleared his throat and gestured after the waiter. “Need a refill?”

A trick question. You glanced behind him, at the drink table. The adoring crowd had decided to disperse just before this exact moment, leaving you to fend for yourself. Near the balcony, Zack was chattering away to Angeal, who looked less than interested. Genesis was engaged with a gaggle of women from engineering. 

Was Sephiroth the type of man to spike a drink?

You grimaced. Every instinct in you told you not to accept drinks from other men, no matter how friendly. The shoulder-to-shoulder cluster of people in the lounge wouldn’t make you safer; if anything, it would provide him with cover.

You looked back at Sephiroth. He blinked at you, one hand still pointing towards where your champagne glass had been. How long had you been standing there, thinking this over?

“Yes,” you said. “I would love that.”

He seemed to deflate with relief. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You craned your neck to watch him go. The swarm parted like water to let him pass, a few employees looking up with adoration in their eyes. The bartender almost fell over themselves to pour him a fresh glass of champagne. Sephiroth smiled and pointed towards you, saying something imperceptible. 

When the attendant followed his hand, they looked straight through you. You shrunk back against the wall. Even with Sephiroth’s influence, you were invisible: just a nobody, unworthy of his attention.

Focus. Watch the drink.

You shoved the entire dragon roll into your mouth and put the plate aside. The bartender reached into a forest of clean champagne glasses, seemingly at random, and poured a fresh glass of champagne from the same bottle. You exhaled slowly.

Again, the crowd parted to let Sephiroth through. When he was within reaching distance, however, the crowd snapped closed: back to its impenetrable, tipsy chaos. For all you could tell, you may as well have been alone.

He leaned in as he handed you the glass. “Necessary provisions.”

You took it gratefully. When Sephiroth turned to examine the crowd, you wafted the glass under your nose: yes, that was champagne, seemingly untampered with. You took a small sip, and the alcohol exploded into light on your tongue, the same as the last glass. You were safe.

Your voice was hoarse when you spoke. “I think this is nicer than anything I could ever afford.”

Sephiroth snorted. “You are criminally underpaid.” He gently shouldered his way to the wall and leaned against it with you. You shied away, putting a hands-width of distance between the two of you. If he noticed, he didn't seem to mind. “What do you usually drink?"

You took another sip of champagne. His attention felt too bright, like an underplate sun beaming directly at you. From across the lounge, you heard Zack’s tittering laugh. “Just, um. Whatever’s on sale? I don’t know.”

Sephiroth didn’t respond to this. You fiddled with the glass stem and continued. “I used to want to like, drink for a living.” Oh, that sounds awful. You felt him turn back to you, and you waved your hands. “I-I mean. I wanted to like, use my degree to brew alcohol.”

He laughed, low and sweet. You felt warm, or was that the champagne? You couldn't afford to get drunk here. “How interesting. Anything specific?”

“I, uh.” You looked up. He was leaning towards you; you could count the freckles on his nose. You looked away. “I kind of wanted to work on a vineyard.”

“You probably would’ve gotten more sunshine there.”

You honked with laughter and covered your mouth. “I would give anything to just, like. Run away sometimes.” Bubbles crawled along the sides of your champagne glass; you watched them go. “Like, join the circus, without actually joining the circus. You know?”

Zack’s voice came from somewhere around the cheese selection. “Smile!” The flash of a camera phone went off in your peripheral; you squinted. Sephiroth seemed unfazed. 

God, but he was close. You weren’t this interesting. There was no way. You braced yourself for the inevitable up-and-down, the leering look, the step closer--

He cleared his throat and nodded. “I do know. I…” He looked away, seemed to roll the words around in his mouth for a moment before thinking better of it. “…do know that feeling.” 

When he turned to you, his eyes were wide, searching. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so boyishly young. You clutched your champagne glass to your chest like a shield.

Sephiroth’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and— curse you— you looked. He opened his mouth. “You look—“

“There you are.”

The two of you turned at once, and your stomach dropped. Hojo was stomping towards you. Unlike Sephiroth, he had to push and shove his way through the crowd, sending people stumbling. Some openly glared at him in his wake.

“Professor—“ you started, but a wall of muscle blocked your vision. 

Sephiroth, casually, almost imperceptibly, had stepped ahead of you.

At first, it seemed as if Sephiroth had merely stepped towards Hojo; you knew better. From Hojo’s knowing grin, he knew it, too. You hazarded a glance up; Sephiroth’s warm demeanor from earlier was gone, replaced with a cool, stony neutrality.

When he spoke, his voice was like ice. “Hojo. I was just about to step away and go look for you.”

Hojo switched his champagne glass to his other hand and pointed to you, peering up at Sephiroth. “I was hoping to speak to my employee.”

“I’m afraid your employee’s not feeling well at the moment.” Sephiroth crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Hojo, who laughed.

“What, is she your pet?”

You stepped forward. “I’m alright, Seph. What is it, Professor?”

The two men stared at you in shock: Sephiroth, looking like you had slapped him, and Hojo, looking as if he had just won the largest teddy bear at the carnival. 

Your heart pounded in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say that aloud: it was just how you referred to him in your mind. It wasn’t a pet name, surely not, just a way around his long name, Sephiroth, a mouthful at the best of times—

“Say your peace,” Sephiroth said to Hojo, but he didn’t step aside.

Hojo straightened his glasses. “It’s quite confidential.”

“We’re in the same department.”

You raised your voice above them: “Professor, what was it you wanted?”

Hojo scowled. “I merely wanted to ask after your protein pull-down. Any luck?”

Of course Hojo would want to talk work during a party off-hours. You put on your most polite, work-friendly smile. Above you, Sephiroth rolled his eyes and looked away. “It seems to like glucose receptors,” you bit out, “but we won’t know until we repeat the pull-down in triplicate.”

Hojo seemed pleased by this and took a sip of champagne. “Well. And what repetition are we on?”

“The second one,” you replied, resisting the urge to grit your teeth as you said it.

“Very good, Doctor.” Hojo put his free hand behind his back and smiled up at Sephiroth. “See?” He patted Sephiroth on one broad arm. Sephiroth didn’t respond, eyeing him warily. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

A random engineer slung his arm around Hojo’s shoulders and, before you knew it, he was whisked away.

Sephiroth turned to you. “Are you alright?”

You couldn't look away from where Hojo had touched Sephiroth. He was like a god, and Hojo...

Hojo didn't care.

Your mouth twisted. You shook your head. “Yeah. Why?”

He huffed and tipped the champagne down, swallowing the entire glass in a few swift gulps. As he set down the glass, he said, “I’ve seen what he does to his employees. I’m just concerned for you.”

“What does that mean?”

But Sephiroth was already walking away. His hair fell in his face, obscuring his expression from you. 

The memory of the bee in your pocket hit you like a bullet train.

Now or never.

“Seph. Wait.”

He started. There was no way he had heard you over the din of the crowd, even with his superior hearing; you couldn’t shout that loudly, and anyway, why would he care what you had to say? He surely had better places to be.

And yet, miraculously, he turned to you, something gentle in his face you didn’t recognize. “Yes?”

You stuttered and reached into your back pocket. You had to do this quickly, or else you’d never work up the nerve. You couldn’t afford not to settle the score. 

“I, um.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. Your pulse rang in your ears.

Now or never. Now or never.

You bit the inside of your cheek and thrust the honeybee towards him. “For you.”

He reared backwards as if the charm was a piece of live materia. For a tense second, he stared at your hand, surprise etched into every line of his face. You shifted from foot to foot.

When he spoke, it was soft, wondering, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd: “You made that?”

“Y-yes. It’s got, um…” You reached behind the charm and pulled on the tiny chain behind its abdomen. Sephiroth started violently as it spread its wings with an audible click. “I t-th-thought of you? When you said the-- the bracelet was p-pre-pretty and, well.” You shook it at him. “Happy holidays?”

“You…?”

Sephiroth reached out, and tenderly (ever so tenderly) he took the charm from you. Your bare hands brushed, and you felt yourself rock forward onto your toes, as if there was an invisible string in you, some live wire he had tripped. That was right, you had to tell him that you were unavailable, but—

But you couldn’t. Not when he cradled the charm so close to his chest, not when he tilted his head as he examined it like a newborn. 

“Thank you,” he said, and when he looked up at you, he grinned. The bridge of his nose crinkled with joy. 

Oh, you couldn’t.

On the contrary:

You had it bad.

It felt like your limbs decided not to work all at once. You leaned back against the wall to steady yourself, trying to look as casual as possible when you were this close to passing out. “I added a pin back,” you said, and oh, he actually turned the charm over to look. “It locks, so. You can. Put it on stuff, I don’t know.”

He looked over his shoulder. The party whirled on around you two. 

When he turned back to you, he nodded. “I’ll wear it under my uniform.” He tapped his right pectoral, just over his heart. “Right here. If I lose it, you get a free punch. Sound fair?”

“A free—” You sputtered. “Oh my God! No! I wouldn’t do that!”

His nose crinkled again. “I’m completely serious.” He put the charm in his front pocket; you didn’t miss how his hand lingered over it, as if he would lose it if he didn’t touch it. “One free punch.” He held up one finger. “I’ll hold you to it, Professor.”

Your cheeks hurt; you were smiling, you realized, so much it made your eyes water. It had to be the champagne. “Fine,” you said. “One punch. Deal.”

He turned away from you. “The bet’s on.”

You watched him melt into the crowd. Your champagne had gone warm again.

---

THE INTERLOPER RETURNS! Dear members of the Silver Elite, Surely you all remember the mysterious woman who sat with Sephiroth at that board meeting? She has been spotted again, just in time for the holidays! The two were inseparable at Shinra’s holiday party. Inside sources tell us only high-level scientists and executives were allowed— along with 1 st -Class SOLDIERs and their guests, of course. Though our beloved angel entered and left alone, the two were spotted canoodling at the snack table by themselves. Could Sephiroth’s time alone be finally over????

There was an envelope on your desk Monday morning. You shrugged off your winter coat and draped it over the side of your cubicle wall. Just like the first envelope, there was no return address or any sign of the sender: just your name and office number, typed, on a sticky label.

You sat down in your chair. Inside this envelope was a five-million gil invoice for mako supplements. SOLDIERs had pre-allotted doses of mako sent to them in glass bottles; the amount varied based on R&D’s experiments (or the whims of upper management). Dosage instructions were printed on the bottom in bold, terrifying font:

REFRIGERATE UNTIL READY TO USE ONLY DRINK 1 BOTTLE PER DAY. SIGNS OF MAKO SICKNESS INCLUDE: LOSS OF APPETITE, LETHARGY, HIGH BLOOD SUGAR, SEIZURES, MUSCLE WEAKNESS, AND LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS. IF YOU FEEL WOOZY, DON'T WAIT: CALL YOUR SUPERVISOR!!!!

A blue postcard peeked out between the second and third pages. You shook it out onto the desk.

THE JUNON CANNON. The blue, endless ocean stretched out beyond the golden cannon. The sun was high in the sky; seabirds flew in formation in the distance. The photograph had been taken from the very tip of the cannon; below it was a fifty-foot drop onto the cliffs. 

You turned the postcard over. The same elegant, looping scrawl dominated the left-hand side of the card:

This is an older postcard. Forgive me, but I’ve always wanted someone to send it to. I’ve scaled the cliffs below this picture a few times. The gulls like to nest in-between the rocks. The cannon itself is hard to look at, especially with the ocean looking so beautiful underneath. I daydream about it falling into the water forever. Maybe that’s my ‘run away and join the circus.’

“Professor?”

You shoved the card back into the invoice, heart pounding. How long had Marcie been standing there, watching you read this postcard?

Marcie was too short to look at you over the cubicle wall, preferring instead to peek around the corner at you, one brown eye and a delicate hand barely visible. She had her trademark nervous frown.

“The samples are gone again,” she said.

You pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Again?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” you sighed. “I know who took them.” Hojo. Again.

“Do you want me to look at 029's cells instead?”

“No,” you snapped. Marcie jumped; you kicked yourself for frightening her. In a softer tone, you added, “No, I’ll do it later. Can you just get me the data you took last week?”

Marcie shuffled past you into her cubicle. “I still need to process it.”

“That’s fine. You spend the morning doing that. No rush.”

You pulled up the Shinra instant-messaging app and clicked on Hojo’s name.

>> Did you need 017’s lysate? 

Hojo’s reply was instantaneous:

>>Yes. We took a few of 017’s cells from cryo as well. Will that be a problem?

A chill ran through you. Could Hojo have seen J - 180 - L - 9177? Could he tell you had messed with his samples?

Hojo’s icon blinked on the screen, awaiting your response. You typed:

>>No problem at all. We’ll push to tomorrow.

>>K.

You slouched forward and pressed your forehead to your crossed arms.

---

When the SOLDIERs returned from their latest mission, the lab emptied out. You looked up from your laptop as everyone rushed outside to the 60th floor escalators.

When you saw Sephiroth ascend the escalator in the window, you stood up so quickly the blood rushed from your head, and you steadied yourself on the bench. His usual crowd of admirers swarmed him. As he bent down for what you assumed was the five millionth selfie he had had to pose for that day, you wandered over to the windows, arms crossed around yourself.

When he straightened up, he craned his neck towards the lab windows, searching. You caught his eye.

The two of you stared at each other over the crowd. You lifted a hand and waved.

A smile tugged at Sephiroth’s lips, and he turned away. His hand moved to his chest and tapped the space over his heart. To any onlooker, it would have been a simple, throwaway gesture: nothing more exotic than an itch or a minute adjustment of his coat. 

You gasped despite yourself, and just like that, he was gone: back into the throng of fans, back into the mob, away from you.

---

When you looked up from your RNA samples, the lab had emptied out completely. You checked your watch and groaned when you saw the time: 6:29 PM. You had promised yourself you would go home at five today; you had gotten lost in your work again, and the cells didn’t even need feeding or dosing. You wiped your forehead against your shoulder. Beyond you, the 60th floor was empty, some of the motion-sensitive lights already going dark.

As Shinra drew closer and closer to the holidays, the building became emptier and emptier. You had noticed several of the cubicles sitting empty that morning. This late, you usually saw a few stragglers, middle managers and overworked interns, talking in low voices on their way to the escalators or staring blankly at their phones. The quiet of the lab pressed in around you.

Sephiroth hadn’t approached you since returning from his last mission days ago. You tried not to take it personally: he was likely exhausted and in need of sleep. Lazard may have even shuffled him to another mission. You ejected a pipette tip and capped the tube of RNA, gently inverting it back and forth between thumb and forefinger to mix its contents.

He seemed more a show pony than a man: always observed, always in demand. You couldn’t stop thinking about that tired, resigned look in his eyes when he was in the middle of a crowd. He had seemed so happy when he saw you watching him.

The door to the lab opened. Speak of the devil.

You turned in your chair. “You’re—“

But the person at the door was not Sephiroth.

You stopped mid-word, still holding your RNA tube. 

Genesis kicked the lab door shut behind him. “Professor,” he said. The smile on his face made you feel cold.

“It’s past six,” you called to him. “Everyone’s gone home.”

He tucked his hands behind his back, that satisfied smile only growing wider. “I saw the light on,” he said. "Is now a good time?"

Something in your mind was itching, clawing against the walls, screaming at you to Get out, leave immediately, it’s not safe, you’re not safe. You watched in horror as Genesis proceeded to ignore you, taking a slow walk against the lab windows. The click of his boots seemed overly loud against the instruments droning on in the background. You drew a mental map between yourself and the lab doors. Could you even outrun a 1st-Class?

You forced yourself to set the RNA tube down in its rack before you dropped it. “Did you need something?” you asked, and you hated the tremble in your voice.

Genesis pursed his lips and shook his head. “I just wanted to visit,” he said.

“You can come back during business hours. It’s just me here.”

“Actually,” he drawled, “you are the woman I wanted to see.”

You stared at him as he made his way slowly towards you. He seemed to move like smoke around the islands dotting the wide open lab: a dark parallel to how Sephiroth had moved through the holiday party. You felt stuck to your chair.

“Have we met?” you asked; your voice cracked on the last word: m-y-et.

“Where are my manners?” He stopped ten feet away and bowed, long coat sweeping across the tile floor. “Genesis Rhapsodos, 1st-Class.” 

“Okay,” you said softly. “I’m—“

“I know who you are.” Genesis straightened and adjusted his gloves. That damned smile.  “My good friend has many a nice word to say about you.”

You willed yourself to turn back to your samples. “You’ll have to remind me.”

“I think you and I are both aware.”

“Maybe.” You felt like you were going to throw up.

Genesis sighed. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him cross his arms and lean against a lab bench, dangerously close to where you tested blood samples. “Sephiroth is distracted by you, you know.”

You reached for a fresh pipette tip. “Okay?”

He barked out a laugh. “‘Okay,’ she says. I know you two are becoming close.”

“We’re just…”

What were you?

You tilted your head just slightly. Genesis pounced on your hesitation:

“Just. Just what?”

“Just work acquaintances. We don’t really know each other that well.”

“Is that why he visits you nightly?”

“I…I don’t know why he does that.” 

“You’re humble, aren’t you, Professor?”

You pressed your lips together and drew your RNA into the pipette tip.

“No wonder Sephiroth’s sweet on you.”

And suddenly, it felt like he had dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Your lungs collapsed in on themselves; practice and experience alone kept you from dropping your pipette. 

“Excuse me?” you wheezed.

An expression of delight crossed his face. “You didn’t know?” Genesis seemed to dismiss that thought the second it struck him, and he scoffed. “Perhaps he isn’t as obvious in his affection. He’s usually very straightforward.”

Your mind spun. It took all of your self-control not to eject your sample onto the lab bench. You turned back to your tube and ejected the sample so violently that it splashed up the walls of the tube, nearly spilling over.

Genesis laughed when you swore under your breath. “Distracted, are we?”

You grit your teeth. “No.”

He leaned back against the wall and watched you work. You kept your head down, trying your damndest not to lose your sample from being flustered.

Genesis continued, “He’s not the most used to romance, unlike some of us. Several before you have tried and failed.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Sephiroth is truly a man committed to his work. I’m surprised at what he sees in you.”

“Genesis,” you snapped. Never mind that you could feel heat creeping up your neck; never mind that you were hunching further and further in your chair, trying to make yourself small. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I’m really stressed out here, and you’re distracting me.”

He continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “A mousy scientist and Shinra’s greatest warrior.” His voice was low. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to sway him?”

“Genesis.”

Genesis huffed and straightened up. “Well. I’ll leave you, if you wish.” He pressed a warm hand to your shoulder. When you stiffened in fear, you could see him smile in the reflection of the fume hood window. “If your work is so important, I’ll tell him to stop annoying you, Professor.”

“No need, actually,” you said, voice icy. You wanted to hit him: 1st-class-status and HR be damned. “I’ll talk to him.”

When Genesis refused to move, you added, “Alone.”

Genesis removed his hand. There was a warm impression left in its wake, even through your lab coat and blouse; you rolled your shoulder, trying to get rid of it.

It wasn’t until the double doors to the lab swung shut with a bang that you relaxed.

Sephiroth’s sweet on you.

You stared at the dozens of tubes in front of you, your meticulously organized lab notebook. Somehow, you could still feel Genesis’s warm hand on your shoulder, and bile rose in your throat. Sephiroth almost never touched you.

But the bill always comes due.

You screwed your eyes shut, opened them again. Yes, there were the tubes and the notebook, just the way you left them. You dropped your pipette and pressed your thumb to the inside of your hand. Your breath was shallow; dread welled up in you. Surely this was Hollander playing a trick— perhaps to undermine and cripple Hojo’s department? You knew Hollander and Genesis were friendly.

But Genesis was Sephiroth’s friend; his only friend, along with Angeal, if rumors were to be believed. 

Why would Genesis humiliate his friend for political gain?

Why you?

Shouldn’t I be happier?

You looked up at the lab windows. Even without Genesis there, you couldn’t help but feel small. Helpless. Men like him were good at that.

When you picked up your pen, your hand was trembling.

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[angualupin]

ok, look, I’m Not That Kind of Biologist, so I probably am missing something here, but... isn’t it weird that we currently don’t have a generalized ocean predator larger than an orca? Isn’t that kind of unusual, when looking at the fossil record?

we have specialized ocean predators that are large, like sperm whales that only eat squid, and we have some of the biggest ocean animals that have ever lived in the baleen whales, but I’m talking about “things that would eat us and therefore get categorized into the anthrocentric category of ‘monsters’”

I feel like Earth’s history is replete with sea monsters and we currently have... almost nothing. Orcas and great white sharks and neither of them are particularly scary, when you get right down to it

and this is also, for once, nothing you can blame on humans’ propensity to kill and eat everything they come in contact with, like moas and giant kangaroos and all of the American megafauna, because our dominance of the oceans is very, very recent and most of what we’ve killed off are things that are still around, just in much smaller numbers

anyway I feel kind of cheated, is what I’m saying, but I’m also someone who feels very cheated by a world without Eurasian lions and European wolves and American sabertooth tigers and that one New Zealand eagle I always want to call a roc but is actually named after some white guy, so there’s that