#I have zero patience for people today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

predestinatos · 1 year ago

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we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!” “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

“And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

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sdmsims · 6 months ago

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being annoying and thinking out loud here..

i've been at this for 6 years (or at least, that's how long this blog has been around for) and the way the general culture around modding has shifted is kinda. sad

like i sound like a broken record and many others have the same sentiment, but modding discoveries and advancements from today would've made people in 2018 shit their pants... and instead of it being harnessed for unbridled creativity, it just... sits.

modding has become a job now for people. a community that was built by hobbyists has turned overwhelmingly capitalistic, especially with the rise of SL sellers jumping to ts4 to make a quick buck with no real passion for the game or its community.

when modding becomes a paycheck, it also becomes stagnant. people are afraid to take risks and start things they may never finish and do things out of the ordinary, because that doesn't sell well.

and the most frustrating things is... people keep enabling this. yes, there's more and more people vocally upset about the increasing 'de-hobbyfication' of modding, but the community around the sims is huge, and considering how we see more and more SL brands flocking to get their fill... there's definitely a non-zero number of people who are allowing this to continue with their wallets

the sims 4, for all its flaws, is the most malleable sims game in my opinion. if you have a desire to learn and a goal, you can mold the game into whatever the hell you want - and that's amazing. it's the type of game with the type of freedom to expand on and change whatever that i dreamed about since i was a kid playing mysims. it can be just a dollhouse, a dressup game, a shitpost simulator... but it can also be whatever you want if you have an idea, some time, and patience.

so... despite it all, i encourage everyone to just create. make stupid meme tshirt recolors for yourself and your friend's inside jokes, convert your anime boyfriend's model parts just so your simself can make out with him, dig deeper and deeper into the paths that hobbyists of the past have forged to create something new and weird that caters to nobody but yourself

create what you want to see and what makes you happy, no matter how 'small' it is

#tldr: bro we gotta start doing shit for fun again #txt #non cc posting #this wasn't caused by anything in particular #just kind of... my regular expelling of my general feelings LOL

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kirikiss · 3 months ago

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Nightmare on Sesame Street!

prohero! bakugo It was no shock when Bakugo became one of the top heroes after high school. He was a powerhouse, and anyone could see he had a real shot at becoming #1. But being the best hero isn’t just about strength—popularity plays a big role too. So, it wasn’t surprising when his agency brought you on as his PR manager. Your job? To make sure people saw not just the fierce hero side of him, but also someone they could admire and root for. After all, with his temper, smoothing out those rough edges was going to be a challenge. not proofread...

tw: none!,

As you trudged down the hall, you could already hear the sound of Bakugo’s gauntlet tapping against his desk, the noise echoing from his office. Even though you were his PR manager, he had a knack for shooting down every opportunity you brought him. First, you pitched the idea of him having his own cereal. “Kids shouldn’t eat that crap,” he snapped. Then you suggested a hairspray ad. “Hell no. You couldn’t recreate this even if you had a blueprint,” he scoffed, gesturing at his hair. Every idea, every proposal, was an immediate no.

It was clear Bakugo had zero patience for PR stunts—he thought they were stupid, plain and simple. So, as you prepared to pitch him on a new opportunity to guest star on the Sesame Street Halloween Special, you could already see the scowl forming on his face. The tapping of his gauntlet stopped.

"Are you dumb?" he growled. "A hero isn’t an entertainer. We’re here to save people. Stop asking me to do dumb shit like this."

The office was silent as you began to walk out, only hearing the click of your shoes as you headed for the door. This was bad. If you couldn’t get him on board with these opportunities, his agency would fire you for sure.

While Sesame Street was a kids' show, it would help soften Bakugo’s image and make him more family-friendly—something crucial for climbing the popularity polls. But since he seemed allergic to saying yes to anything, you started to devise a plan.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was a chilly, spooky, day, with leaves drifting in and out of the streets, carried by the wind. It was October 31st, and the town was soon to be filled with children in costume. You were on your way to the film studio, minus the explosive hero, who was stuck at the office buried in paperwork. As you fought against the wind, you quickly checked your phone. I really hope this works, you thought, having stayed up all night brainstorming any possible way to get him to say yes. The harsh reality was that he probably wouldn’t.

But there was one last idea you had in mind. As you reached the studio, you took a deep breath, thinking, I really hope he doesn’t kill me. You opened the door, and the director greeted you with a smile. “Hi, Y/N! Nice to finally put a face to the name! The live taping will be starting shortly. Where’s Dynamight?” he asked, glancing around.

“He should be here soon, but if you could just excuse me for a second,” you said with a nervous laugh. Stepping outside, you dialed his number, clearing your throat as you prepared for the act of your life.

“Yeah, what is—” Bakugo started.

“BAKUGO, HELP ME! A VILLAIN IS ATTACKING! I’LL SEND YOU THE ADDRESS!” you shouted in a fake worried tone, then quickly hung up praying it would work. You sent the address as you stepped back inside and crossed your fingers.

The director approached you, looking a bit anxious. “He has three minutes until the show starts. There’s a one-minute Oscar the Grouch act before his interview with Elmo. Do you think he could make it?” he asked, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m sure of it,” you lied through your teeth, hoping your gamble would pay off

Elmo walked onto the screen, and as if on cue, you heard a loud crash. The door flew open, and Bakugo stormed in. “WHERE IS THIS FOOL?” he barked, taking in his surroundings before locking eyes with Elmo. “Wow, our guest for today has an explosive entrance,” Elmo chimed cheerfully. Bakugo shot a glance at you, then back at Elmo. He realized he’d been tricked, and there was no backing out now.

“Elmo is very excited to welcome Bakugo!” Elmo continued, his voice unwavering. Bakugo slowly walked toward him, clearly unimpressed.

“Welcome to Elmo's live talk show! Elmo is just gonna ask you a few questions!” Elmo announced.

“Alright,” Bakugo scoffed, already annoyed at the oversized teddy bear in front of him.

“If you had to pick a favorite color, would it be red like Elmo, or would you choose something like… ‘explosive orange’?” Elmo asked, chuckling at his own joke.

Bakugo's face shifted to his default scowl. “Yeah, I guess,” he muttered, realizing this was live. He was making an effort to be somewhat kid-friendly.

“Okay! Elmo has another question! Today is Halloween. Elmo loves trick-or-treating! What are you planning to be for Halloween this year?”

“Well, Elmo,” Bakugo replied in a mocking tone, “I’m going to be patrolling later, so there’s no dress-up this year.” You sighed in relief, relieved to see he was trying to keep it together.

“Okay! Elmo has a few more questions. Elmo heard that some heroes take their costumes off at the end of the day! Do you ever take your grumpy face off, or is that just for show?” Elmo asked, clearly testing his patience, and it was wearing thin

You could see Bakugo’s irritation brewing. His fist clenched, suppressing the urge to turn Elmo into a pile of red fur. “Yeah, Elmo, I take it off when I’m not around annoying stuffed animals.” he retorted

He’s really pushing his limits now.

Bakugo managed to keep his cool through most of the questions, but the last one pushed him over the edge. “Hey, Bakugo! Elmo was wondering... Do you think maybe you’d be a better hero if you smiled more? Elmo thinks smiles make everything better!”

Bakugo’s eye twitched, and you could see this was the breaking point.

“THAT’S IT!” he shouted, jumping out of his seat. “BAKUGO WILL SMILE WHEN HE BLOWS UP THIS SET! HOW ABOUT THAT, ELMO?” he yelled, mocking Elmo’s voice. Fiery sparks began crackling in his palm.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO YOU DAMN PUPPET!” Bakugo growled as he aimed one of his grenades at Elmo. In a fit of rage, he let loose, and Elmo was suddenly engulfed in an explosion of red fur and smoke. Most of the staff stood there shocked while the others handled turning off the live footage. The cameras immediately panned to the ground as Bakugo turned around to take his leave.

After apologizing profusely to the staff—and mourning what was left of the Elmo puppet—you headed outside to try and catch him. But he was already gone, leaving you no choice but to send a slightly irritated text.

Y/N: Are you serious right now? Why on earth would you do that? This is going to be a nightmare to clean up. You’d better get back to the agency ASAP so we can work out some kind of apology.

Read 4:18 PM

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bakugo decided to start his patrol early, hoping to get some peace and quiet before the evening rush. But as soon as he hit the streets, he noticed they were already flooding with kids decked out in costumes. Some wore miniature hero getups—his own included—while others sported characters from whatever kids' shows were trending these days. Though he’d never admit it, Bakugo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them laughing and running around.

His momentary calmness shattered, however, when something out in the distance made his blood run cold. A tuft of red fur peeked out from behind a lamppost, and slowly, menacingly, a kid in an Elmo costume emerged. Bakugo’s eyes went wide as the bright red, wide-grinning creature came closer, waving in slow motion, its vacant stare drilling into his soul. He took a step back, heart pounding.

“Not…again,” he muttered, half to himself.

Of all the villains he’d faced, of all the foes he’d defeated, somehow, this puppet was the one that struck true fear.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

taglist: @sofiascripts

a/n: Sorry for not posting, im in school and its midterm season :/. Thought I should put this out, I promised myself I would put out a funny bakugou fic before Halloween , so please enjoy!!!!

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adelarsims · 3 months ago

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Embers Academy Spellcasting Tournament: Potions (Group 1) + Rules

i split my 32 participants in four groups, and my original plan was to cover one group a day, but this week was crazy for me and i had no time. to not fall behind the schedule, i'll cover everyone today :)

rules they were following:

everyone's needs are locked. i don't want anyone to be at a disadvantage because they got stuck in simulation lag or spent all their time in bathroom line with other 31 people

they have 12 hours to learn 3 potions through practice. for each potion learned they get 24 points, plus 1 point for each full half an hour left after the last learned potion

autonomy is off, but if someone decides to leave their cauldron for whatever reason, i let them finish that action that distracted them before returning them to the task. their fault if they're easily distracted, a spellcaster must have patience and grit

the first group: Alexandria Pearce, Neven Grant, Lyle Dubois, Rhiannon Grim-Jeong, Maxwell Kilgore, Aurora Mugwort, Estelle Glynnan, and Phoenix Black

alexandria stirs with great determination and looks pretty excited

simeon decided to come and watch lyle. no pressure at all, lyle.

zinnia and daliah didn't want to wait for the main event and dueled right here and there. maxwell and then lyle and rhiannon found watching them more interesting than some boring alchemy grades and left

is that a unicorn fur ingredient, or just Blaze's fur that stuck to me?.. i'll throw it in and see. oh, uh-oh

neven: look, my spoon is huuuge! (rhiannon over there wishes her spoon was a little bit smaller) and then he decided to just go and play ping pong

rhiannon didn't have a great time to be honest, but boy she looked cool

estelle just did her job without distractions (and it paid off)

aurora also just quietly did her job and did it great

maxwell likes it here (it's 3 floors deep in the dungeon)

results:

phoenix, estelle and aurora - very determined girls who worked without distractions and learned all three potions. estelle finished first, and aurora and phoenix a bit later back to back

alexandria - learned two potions, but made them both pretty early and was the first to learn a potion

maxwell and lyle - learned two potions, and honestly they could've learned three if they didn't get distracted

rhiannon - learned 1 potion, she tried hard but didn't look like she was having a great time

neven - i guess he felt from the beginning that alchemy is not for him, because he did literally nothing and ended with whopping zero points, but hey, at least he won in ping pong

i'll post the scores when i cover all four groups performance :)

___

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @aliengirl @hashimasims @witchywhims @partheniasimblr @smilingmoon @adoringsentiment @syntacticerrortxt

#morgyn’s spellcasting tournament #the sims 4 #ts4 #simblr

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crownmemes · 1 month ago

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Angry & Irritated Sentences, Vol. 28

(Angry and irritated sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I don't even understand you half the time."

"And that is exactly what bad ethics and zero impulse control will get you!"

"We stay out of other people's business out here, if you catch my drift."

"I have no intention of running around like a rat in a maze until we're dead! I'm going back!"

"Were you spying on me?"

"What exactly is your point?"

"You think I'm dumb, don't you?"

"You'll do as you're told."

"Why do you insist on provoking him?"

"What is wrong with men today?"

"You blew up my plane!"

"Do you feel better after slapping me?"

"Are you bringing home strays now?"

"You do your job and I'll do mine."

"Can I make a suggestion that doesn't involve violence?"

"You like reminding me of my past, don't you?"

"I don't know which I feel most: relief or anger."

"It's all an act with you, isn't it?"

"Oh. You're moody again."

"I must warn you that my patience is not inexhaustible."

"You must admit you have a talent for attracting trouble!"

"Is small talk a way you deal with your anxiety?"

"You're about as subtle as a train wreck!"

"With respect, I am capable of retaining more than one thought in my mind at the same time."

"This isn't a toy! You could have gotten hurt!"

"Do you want congratulations? Some praise? Well, you better get it somewhere else because I'm just about done with your bullshit."

"There's no way I can convince you that you're wrong, is there?"

"Pull yourself together! There's no reason to be frightened!"

"Don't ever defy me again."

"They think you're behaving foolishly. I must say, I agree."

"I can't talk to you right now!"

"I find you amusing up until a point, but you've passed that."

"How can you be so cold?"

"You're on thin ice!"

"You have an obtuse manner which some people find ingratiating. I do not. Do you follow me?"

"Every time you start becoming acceptable, you start making trouble again!"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #single sentence starters #assorted;#angry;

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yourstrqly · 11 months ago

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˗ ˏ ˋ 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓

Pairings : Logan Sargeant x reader (platonic)

in which Logan and you have a day off work in London and decide to go to build a bear, creating each a stuffy for the other as you did as children.

— only friend i need series

"Come on Logs, live a little", you said, pressing the blonde to agree to your spontaneous idea of the day. "it's a fantastic idea, I always have those, and i still can't believe you've lived here for what? Two years now? and still didn't do it. shame, mate."

Said man, who sat opposite of you, took another bite of his somewhat healthy breakfast choice his trainer would've had a wet dream about, all while starring in disbelief at you, the one who's bright smile focused on the plate of waffles, covered in strawberries and cream.

He shallowed, opening his mouth to disagree with the idea but nothing came to his mind, letting you grin in excitement. "I— well, fine, but don't you think we're a bit too old for build a bear, y/n?"

"Buh, since when do we do age appropriate stuff?", you questioned, thinking back about the many times you rode rollercoasters for children, watched movies in the cinema for zero to six years old and did other things people considered then to be made for children. "it's cute, saw a tiktok about it."

"You and your tiktok obsession — when did you even watch it? We were out all day yesterday."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Are you that old, sargeant? You were in the gym after we had lunch at mine."

"Yeah true", the man sheepishly agreed, remembering the cardio and weight session, before his blue eyes brightened, signaling you that he had an idea — for the better or worse, you never knew with him.

"Please enlighten me, what's on your mind?"

Logan's smile widened, pupils blooming. "How about I build you a stuffy and you for me like we did when we were younger?"

"Yes please, that has to the best idea you've had in a while, Logs", you giggled. "Let's eat and then we'll make our way there, its in that mall not so far away from here."

With that, you both ate in silence, listing to the gossip around you — an older woman complained to her son about back pain, a couple fought about having another baby (the woman didn't want another one while the man was adapt on growing the family) and a man in his forties tried to flirt with the waiter —, Logan and you sent each other looks and quirked eyebrows, whenever the topic grew hotter and juicier.

As you shallowed the last bite of your delicious breakfast, Logan already waved the waiter over to pay for today's expenses — since both of you worked, you took turns with the payment, even though the racer tried to take the check whenever you were eating in a somewhat bougier place, saying that he made more and wanted to be a gentleman which would get him a snort out of you or a slap on the arm. not that it hurt him, you liked to think the hits had to be gently because of his worth for Williams.

After the blonde had paid, he impatiently stood up, holding out his hand for helping you to stand up. "Let's go, y/n, we don't have all day."

You let go off his hand, pressing a finger to your forehead. "Don't know why I keep up with you, you're acting like a kid in a hardware store. i'm praying for Alex and his patience."

"Hey, I'm not that bad", your friend shrieked, pulling your head into am armlock to rub your hair which he knew you didn't enjoy at all — you weren't a pet, you'd tell him.

"You're a shithead, have I ever said that to you?", you grumbled as you freed yourself from his strong grasp.

"And you're what? a Saint?", a snort escaped the man's throat, pushing you lightly forward to continue your way to the destination. "cause I don't think so, you're as bad as me, that's why we're friends."

Once again you grumbled under your breath but decided to just walk, letting Logan rant about his trip to New York with Williams and the training camp that was held in Miami.

When you arrived at the mall, you've heard all about his recent work experience, Alex's stories about his holidays and a new recipe Logan's mom came up (it didn't sound but why was she adapt to add pumpkin to the dish?).

"Look logs, there it is", you pointed out, gaze hazy with childish excitement. You intertwined your hand with his, dragging him inside the colourful store to the yet lifeless bodies of stuffies — there was the classic Teddy in a few shades of brown, forest and savanna animals as well as movie characters like yoda, stich and hedwig, Harry Potter's beloved owl.

you truly were in paradise. "Oh look, it's an eagle, that's so American, so you", a booming laughter fell from your lips, winning the attention of a mother daughter duo next to you, causing you to blush and Logan to pinch your side.

alas, your friend had enough of you, so therefore he left your side to explore the many options the shop had in stock. You didn't see his pick as your only matter was to fulfil the task of finding the right stuffy for logan and putting it in clothing.

In the end you decided on a cute black alpaca and put it in a white cargo trousers combined with a multicoloured party shirt and some blue jeans jacket, letting yourself be inspired by the clothing styles of Logan and George Russell's invention of white pants and a williams team shirt as a williams driver's standard uniform — you'd switch up the party shirt as soon as you'll get a hang out of sewing to make a mini williams shirt but for now the alpaca was going to own the shirt as did logan in the summer when you both went out for a wild night back home.

As you put the heart and the small voice box thingy in the stuffy, a small happy tear rolled down your cheek; you chose to say two things: the first one was the viral meme of him being American, silently screaming rwahh what the fuck is a kilometre and the second was a sweet message to cheer him up, hopefully, whenever he felt bad and you'd be out of his reach — a small fracture of yourself, reminding him of his greatness and uniqueness, and that he was loved and cheered. You were a sentimental being, no shame whatsoever, even though your friend sometimes liked to tease you about it, causing you to clap back — it was just that kind of friendship where you could let lose, be yourself without further worries nor feeling embarrassed or awkward.

When Logan finally got to you — you had waited for him outside of the mall, leaning on the car as you had texted him, and bought two cups of coffee at the small café on the opposite side of the build a bear shop— you gave him the box, containing the alpaca, wearing a silly expression on your face, which Logan mirrored.

"Let's see, if you still know me after seeing the whole wide world without me", you joked, silly smile morphing in a naughty grin on your lips.

"As if I could forget you, stinks."

"Maybe I should return it, you don't deserve it—"

"Hey, I don't do anything wrong", he exclaimed, making grabby hands to get the stuffy.

"Mister Sargeant, you are a liar and a very bad one at that", you tsked him. "Haven't we already said that we refer to call me stinks? the name should be buried six foot deep next to—"

"Don't you dare, y/n."

"I definitely should tweet the nickname, your colleagues would eat it up, don't you think so?", you giggled gleefully, remembering how you called him as you were two young children, running around the neighbourhood to terrorise them.

"And that's why I don't take you with me", he mumbled under his breath, holding out his hand where the stuffy box hang off. "Here we go, silly, hope you like it."

Slowly, you opened the box and the sight of your favourite animal greeted you, wearing the cutest hogwarts robes of your house. "Aw Logs, it's so pretty and fluffy. I love it." Gently you pressed you face against the small head of the stuff toy, enjoying the cozy texture of it and closed your eyes, salivating the moment.

After a moment, the blonde man enclosed you in a hug. "the alpaca's lovely, y/n/n. Best idea we had in a while."

"yeah true", you agreed, returning the hug.

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #logan sargeant #formula one imagine

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ursemma · 6 months ago

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First time.

James Beaufort × fem! reader

Summary: loosing virginity to your boyfriend.

Warning: smut, p in v, finger fucking, breast play, eating out, first time, aftercare.

Based on this ask

I was lying on the couch watching a movie at my boyfriend's home. He was playing games with his friends while I had nothing to do.

As the movie was coming to an end, I started feeling bored, I turned and switched into different positions but nothing helped.

The one thing I was certain that I won't get up unless and until the movie was finished. I had zero plans in getting up leaving it unfinished.

The plans changed as I felt James making his way towards me. Shirtless.

"hello pretty girl" he mumbled as he pressed his lips on me going for a kiss. "Hello handsome, done with your video games?" I asked breaking the kiss. "Yess but lemme have more" he spoke as he put his body weight on me going for another kiss and basically laying down on me.

The kiss started out as sloppy and soft but soon turned into desperation. I felt his hands sneaking into my shirt, and rubbing circles around my waist. Our breathing soon shortened and we were gasping for air. He left a breathy groan as I pulled his hair.

I moaned his name as I felt his bulge pressing against my wet clothed clit. Truth to be told I never had sex. And today I'm sure I want it. Am I nervous? Yes. But am I sure? Yes.

He looked at me with a serious gaze "are you sure?" Can he be more sweet? "Yes I am." I answered seriously. "Like really y/n/n are you 100%?" "Yes James I'm."

He texted someone, and picked me up and took me to his room.

He kissed me like he's been waiting for this from a long time, my hands tangled in his hair, his in mine, lips locking, gasping for air, my lipstick leaving marks on his face and soon we both are a mess. A beutiful one though. The one you can write a poetry about.

The one reason I saved myself was a cliche one. I believe that sex is a art. A art through which we can express ourselves. Express our feelings. Which is why some people call it love making. Never in my life I wanted to be used and thrown in the form of 'random fuck' and James was the man I was willing to surrender myself. Because he made it worth.

His hands went to remove the clothing I was wearing, and mine went to his pants. He gently pulled my panties down before checking me out and slowly we became naked to eachother, the blood rushed to my cheeks, making them crimson in colour as I covered myself with my bare hands.

"don't cover yourself darling, you don't need to feel shy, love. You're gorgeous and mesmerizing" with that he leaned to kiss me. The kiss was full of love, admiration and passion.

Buring with the heat I moaned out his name, "James please do something"

"patience my love" he said as he grabbed my left breast in his hand and started massaging it, while his mouth leaving wet kisses on my neck.

The kisses turned to sucking and nibbling my skin and he left love bites onto my neck.

He looked up to admire his art and pressed a soft gentle kiss mumbling "mine."

My body heated as I started to press my thighs together for some friction. He noticed it and gently separated my legs, and slowly inserted his middle finger, I moaned at the feeling as he started to curl them inside my folds, "fuck you're so wet" he thrusted his finger gently inside me, and as I stretched he inserted his ring finger.

He curled them inside me and fasten his pace, "James, I'm- I'm going to cum" "cum for me love" I moaned as I released myself.

He then went down on me, as he started sucking my clit, and licking the folds. His tounge gently entered me as he started eating me out. Slowly before fastening the pace as I arched my back in pleasure, "you're so sweet my love." "Fuck you're so perfect." "God I could eat you for entire 3 meals without being bored." Those were the words he mumbled while eating me like I was his favourite meal that he's eating after ages. Soon I came for the second time.

I took deep breath, calming myself from the rollercoaster of pleasure and emotions.

He went to the drawer and grabbed something, I looked at the packet in his hands only to realise it is a condom. Wait how did it end up here?

"wait a second, I cleaned the room in the morning, the condom wasn't here though?" I asked him gasping for air. "You can ask the questions later my love" he replied as he tore the packet off with his teeth. Just by looking at the scene unfolding infront of my eyes the wetness inbetween my legs started growing.

He positioned him self and I wasn't sure if I can take it. It was soo big. He noticed my uncertainty "it'll fit don't worry" I nodded at him.

"let me know if it pains okay? Tell me to stop if you can't take it and let me know your preference okay?" God I love him. "yes but now do something." I moaned as I felt him entering my folds. "It's paining" I felt tears streaming my eyes. "Don't worry I'll be gentle" he reassured me and once I became comfortable I felt him moving.

He started thrusting in me gently and slowly, and I was a moaning mess. His hand played with my breast giving both of them even attention. He sucked my nipples causing a moan to leave my mouth.

I tried to suppress my moans by hiding my face in his neck but his perfume caused my mind to be dizzy and loose my senses.

The pleasure was overwhelming.

"don't keep those pretty sounds to yourself honey. You're doing great" he said while leaving a groan.

His thrust became faster and harder. The sounds of his skin touching mine and our moans and groans were echoing in the room.

His lips sucked my skin and my nails were scratching his back making it bleed.

"I'm going to cum" I moaned as I said those words, "yeah me too" with that we both released ourselves. We panted as we laid down on the bed.

"you did amazing" I smiled at his words, and replied "so did you."

We stayed like that cuddled up together for half hour and then he picked me up and sat me down in the bath tub.

We bath together, him massaging me and I shampooing his hair. "So you didn't answered me earlier" "yeah remember me texting someone before taking you to the bed? I texted Lydia telling her to keep a condom for us in the drawer" "oh god" I face palmed myself in embarrassment, how am I going to face her?

He chuckled at me and wrapped me in a towel like burrito. I wore his t shirt and shorts and we slept cuddling eachother.

#james beaufort fluff #james beaufort smut #james beaufort #james beaufort fanfiction #James Beaufort × reader #maxton hall

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 10 months ago

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The Middle & What's In Between

Elks Chapter 3 Version 2.0

Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: You complete your mural for Joel as your feelings for him grow even stronger, and he might just feel the same way for you. Chapter Warnings: mention of child loss, first kiss, joel being ridiculously soft and touching your cheek a lot, spilled paint water (my enemy), cursive and brand new cd mentions (i'm writing what i know folks), like, zero drama at all, i'm sorry i'm so adverse to writing angst when it comes to jackson joel. Words: 3,700 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

“The Recluse” by Cursive.

The rain still falls on Friday, puddles grow in size and make everyone’s shoes soaked. Your students are grumpy with the canceled patrol training, and your own patience quickly dissipates due to the anticipation of going back to Joel’s house.

You ring your bell to signal the end of the day. Your students are quick to all file out of the room–all except for Ellie, who lingers.

“Saw what you’re doing at Joel’s,” she says, a small smile tugging at her upper lip, “I like it a lot.”

“Thanks. I figured I’d run into you while I was there. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been hanging in the garage. Joel ‘n I just got it all set up for me. Thought I’d give you and him some time alone.”

“...Time alone?”

“Yup. You know, alooooone time.”

“Ellie. Come on now. Stop. I’m painting a freakin’ mural for him.”

“Okay, Teach, whatever you say,” she grins mischievously. “I see him looking at you all the time. He has big eyes, I don’t think he realizes I know exactly where he’s looking. I think he likes yoooou.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Nope! I’m leaving you two alone. I’ll see you Monday!” Ellie winks from the doorway.

You shake your head as she leaves, you’ve never met a kid like her.

After laying out your library supplies for the morning and locking up the school, you hurry home to drop off your bag. You change into your painting clothes, eat one of your homemade granola bars, and pick up the gift you’ve grabbed for Joel. With a goodbye pet and nuzzle for your cats, you turn your lamp on and close the door behind you, stepping into the chilly, soaked spring evening. The short walk to Joel’s feels longer under the pouring rain.

For the third time in a week, you’re outside of Joel’s house wearing your same paint-splattered overalls. You return his smile when Joel opens the door with a dish towel in his hands.

“Come on in,” he says, drying his hands. You’ve become entranced by the sight of someone like him–capable and rough around the edges–do something so domestic. The same hands that wash dishes, cook dinner, and adjust couch pillows have also held weapons and taken lives. His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “Hope the rain didn’t make it too bad gettin’ here.”

“Oh, it was fine,” you say, wiping your feet on his doormat and closing your umbrella. “Nothing was as bad as dealing with the kids today, they hate canceled training days.”

“M’sure of that,” Joel says, glancing down at the two umbrellas in your hand.

You hold one out to him. “So, I had a spare umbrella in my house, and was saving it for a– rainy day. I want you to have it so you don’t have to walk in the rain when you walk me–or someone else home.”

“Mmhmm,” Joel nods and chuckles. “Only people I’ve walked home are you ’n technically Ellie to the garage. One time Tommy when he had a little too much to drink.”

“Well, it’ll do you more use than sitting in my closet.”

“Thanks. Real sweet of you.” His eyes stay on yours for a moment. You’d give him a hundred umbrellas just to keep him looking at you this way.

“I should start, should be done with everything tonight,” you huff out, while trying to calm your nerves.

“Course,” he steps aside to let you move into the room. Your brushes and paints are exactly where you left them the night before, but a new addition catches your eye.

Your breath hitches. “You moved your stereo in here?”

“I did,” he says, stepping beside you. “Thought you’d like to pick whatever CD you want without havin’ to leave the room. It’ll be louder in here. Your book’s right next to it for you.”

“Joel… this is so sweet,” you gasp out while your fingers absentmindedly rub the daisy pendant around your neck. “You moved everything, this had to have taken a long time.”

“Was no problem,” he shrugs, “I wanted to do something nice for ya.”

“You’ve already done so much Joel,” you say softly.

“It’s been real nice havin’ you around,” his voice makes your heart race. “It’s bee–I like having your company in the evenings.”

“I’ve enjoyed being here too,” you reply with a smile, barely able to hear your own voice over the thudding in your chest.

He lingers for a moment before clearing his throat. “Alright then, I’m gonna let you get started. Put on some music, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be in the dining room working.”

You nod, grateful for the moment to compose yourself as you pick up your CD book.

“And now we proudly present Songs perverse and songs of lament A couple hymns of confession And songs that recognize our sick obsessions So sing along I’m the ugly organ!”

It feels like twenty years ago. You paint as you play one of your favorite albums, The Ugly Organ. It still works, one of the few small miracles in the apocalypse. You pick it because you think Joel might just like it.

Your mind drifts to a web of familiar thoughts as you paint…

There are so many things everyone lives without now: traffic reports, amusement parks, cell phones, hot dogs, airplanes. Inconsequential things missed. Major life moments missed. You never got your driver's license. You never got to go to your first school dance with James, your cute friend who definitely had a crush on you too. You never got to go to Disney World.

You learned fairly quickly that your survival was dependent on how much you could sacrifice and live without. Especially in the QZ, where bright colors disappeared under layers of dust and decay, once shiny metal rusting away. Three meals a day replaced by a morsel of food here and there to keep your stomach from growling. Freedom of choice becoming nonexistent.

But art? You still had art. You were lucky to have your three art notebooks and box of colored pencils. Those pencils whittled down by years and years of use. When the pages of your books filled up, you turned to your walls. Your ration cards were bartered for anything you could use to draw with whenever you could afford it. Your notebooks held your fantasy of a normal life: a takeout coffee cup with a croissant on a plate next to a folded up newspaper, a Christmas tree adorned with ornaments and garland, a brick house with urns full of flowers by the front door, a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

Then, Jackson. Jackson brought you color, Jackson brought you music, Jackson brought you a place to feel like you had a home. Jackson brought you your close circle of friends, Jackson brought you your belief in civility, and yourself, back. And Jackson gave you Joel. The thought of him sends a chill up your spine as you realize how special he’s become to you, more than just a crush… now a friend.

The CD ends, after the rousing ten-minute-long final song. The lead singer repeats “the worst is over” along with a grand choir. The words resonate with you, you’re safe and happy here in Jackson. Life feels full… especially now as you’ve found some sort of companionship with Joel.

You step back and admire the mural. Flowers begin to bloom across Joel’s wall. The water held in your paint jar turns just as violet as the bluebells across the wall. Your sense of pride in your art grows along with each painted bluebell.

You pick up your CD book and flip through the pages, choosing the last CD you bought before that fateful fall day in 2003. Black birds fly across the reflective silver disc. You slide it into the stereo and hit play before picking up your brush.

“I’m sinking like a stone in the sea, I’m burning like a bridge for your body”

The week before the world ended, you scheduled your drivers license test. Monday, September 29 at 4 PM. You were so close to freedom. You had already warned your favorite teacher that you’d have to leave art club early, and your mom requested off to take you in. You had practiced and studied, you were confident you’d pass.

You glance towards the doorway, where you can faintly hear Joel working in the dining room. What was his life like back then? What did he drive? What kind of responsibilities did he have? You know he was a contractor. What reason would he have to leave work early?

You ponder about Joel's life before the outbreak as you paint each petal, getting lost in mixing the perfect indigo hues for each bell.

The final song plays, the singer croons over his acoustic guitar. He sings a story about a shipwreck, about death, about love. It’s your favorite, you never got to learn it on guitar.

“What they call love is a risk, You'll always get hit, Out of nowhere, By some wave and end up on your own”

You finish the last few bluebells in complete silence save for the random hammer knocks coming from Joel in the other room.

You dip your brush in your jar of water and step back. Long green stems sprout from the baseboard, green wispy stalks shooting out embellished with bells of all different hues of lavender and indigo. You’re proud of what you’ve created for Joel, you hope he loves it.

“Joel,” you call softly, peeking your head out of the doorway down the hall, “it’s done.”

You hear the scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor. Your heart begins to hammer against your chest as you hear his steps get closer. You’re nervous, so unbelievably nervous. You want him to like it, you’ve never done this for someone else. Nobody has ever asked you to share your creation with them in such a large size. Your art now takes up a piece of his home now, that feels monumental.

You stand in front of the mural, staring forward at the mural as you hear him enter the room. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You wait, feeling your heart thump against your chest as he stands behind you. Then, a sharp inhale from him.

“Wow…” he exhales. You can hardly hear him. “This is beautiful… thank you.”

You want to smile and turn to him, be more present in the moment, but instead you feel like you don’t belong here. The vulnerability of this moment along with the feelings you have for him overwhelms you.

You nod, swallowing hard, still focusing on the wall. “I’m glad you like it,” you manage to say, your voice quiet and shy.

“I… had a daughter before …everything. Name was Sarah,” the tenderness in his voice almost breaks you as you hear his revelation, “used t’call her my bluebell.”

Everything inside of you sinks at his admission. Sarah. You try to offer some sort of comfort, but everything feels inadequate. All you can do is apologize. “Joel… I’m sorry, so sorr—“

“I know you are,” he cuts you off gently. “I don’t need to hear that, please.”

He steps closer towards you, his front brushes against your back. “Seeing these flowers here… it means a lot.”

“I’m glad, I’m so glad,” a heartbroken whisper escapes your lips.

“Thank you,” one of his calloused, large hands lands on your shoulder. Skin meeting skin where your tank top and overalls don’t cover.

“You’re welcome, I feel honored to do this for you… and her.” You swallow down the sadness in your voice. Everyone’s lost so much, it’s an unspoken understanding for everyone who has survived.

“You’re so talented, this is gorgeous sweetheart. Y’sweet, so sweet,” Joel whispers as he turns you to face him. He grabs your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. “The way you’ve come into here, making it more beautiful with your art, your music, ’n your laughter. You’re so soft and pure, don’t know how someone like you still exists.”

“Joel,” you exhale at his confession. Your skin tingles all over, your body begins to warm. His sweet words shush the sadness held within you.

His hand lifts to your chin, tilting your face up towards him. “So sweet,” he says again, his eyes roam around your face. Your lips part instinctively, his eyes drop to them. He slowly leans in, his forehead rests against yours, his warm breath fans across your skin. “Wanted to kiss ya’ the day I saw your classroom. The mural on the wall… you make everything around you more beautiful.”

You breathe in his words with every inhale, words you could only dream of somebody telling you. His hand lets go of yours and moves to your back drawing you closer against his body. The tip of his nose nudges against yours. His lips meet your lips–softly, slowly, deliberately. He’s so gentle with you, overwhelming you. The tenderness of his touch and of his care, it’s not something you’ve ever felt. He makes you feel warm, he makes you feel safe.

You melt under his touch, your body becoming pliant as his strong arm wraps around your waist. His large hand rests on your hip, fingers tracing the fabric of your overalls. You’re a grown woman and he makes you feel so small and juvenile, kissing your crush in your paint stained overalls after a day at school.

The kiss turns hungrier, breaths quickening, tongues tasting tongues, the casualness and comfortability of the past few days turning into fevered kisses. You snake your hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, threading your fingers through his wavy hair. He pulls you even closer, your body now smashed against his. Joel lets out a guttural groan that vibrates against your lips as he lifts you and moves the two of you back towards his work bench.

A loud CLANG interrupts everything. You both blink, breathless, and look down to see the jar of paint knocked over, indigo tinted water spreading across the floor.

“Goddamnit,” Joel utters as he sets you back down on the floor, his chest rises and falls with deep breaths. “Knocked over the paint water.”

“I’m sorry, I’m usually careful about where I place that.”

“S’okay, I’ll go get a towel,” he says, already walking out of the room.

You use your small paint rag to pathetically mop up a small bit of water, still trying to catch your breath from what just happened.

Were you really just kissing Joel Miller? Did Joel Miller want to kiss you? He did. He definitely kissed you, and you kissed him back. He even said he wanted to kiss you before. He called you sweet. Are you dreaming? The man you’ve written songs about, the man you’ve watched from the corner of the bar, the man you’ve thought about every day since the first time you first saw him. That man you just kissed you.

“Guess we lucked out it didn’t break.” Joel interrupts your inner dialogue as he kneels down and places the towel over the stain.

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Don’t worry yourself, it’s cleaned up just fine, I’ve done much worse to these floors with stain and dirt.” He stands, offering his hand and you take it. You rise with a smile, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his palm covers yours. “See? Back to brand new.”

He’s so reassuring and so tender, now you know why–Joel Miller has known love before.

“Was hoping my favor to you would be done but it’s not. Come on.”

He doesn’t drop your hand as he leads you down the hallway into the dining room. On the table lies a guitar surrounded by tools. “Should be done tomorrow, there’s a fret that’s giving me a helluva time, but other than that it’s all fixed.”

Your eyes widen at the sight. Music. “Joel… I—I can’t believe this.” You beam at him. “Thank you.”

“Course sweetheart,” he raises his hand to your cheek to touch you again. “It’s nothin’, wanted you to have your music back.”

Your fingers brush over the hard wood of the body, you note a rough patch from a hole that Joel filled in. The guitar is so worn and rugged but also so soft and polished. It’s beautiful.

Joel’s kind action surrounds your heart and plants a thought in your brain quickly realizing everything that you’ve done with him the past few days. Does Joel really like you the way you like him? It feels impossible. How would someone like him like someone like you? He’s strong and capable, you’re just a lone woman who likes to paint pretty pictures of animals and talk to her cats for entertainment. You know many of the rumors you’ve heard about big, bad Joel Miller are true. What’s this man doing using his time to make something nice for you?

“Joel, this is–wow–so much. Are you sure?”

He nods, his eyes steady on yours. “M’sure, I’m happy to do it, it really wasn’t difficult, ’n like I said, I just have to fix the last fret and it’ll be good.”

“Thank you, again, I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” he says softly, his hand lingering on you cheek before letting it fall.

It’s so much, everything that has gone on between the two of you begins to overwhelm you–making you even more tired than you realize. You hide a yawn behind your forearm, blinking your tired eyes a couple of times. “Sorry,” you yawn again, “I always get tired on Friday evenings.”

He watches you, a look of affection in his eyes. “S’alright. I know you’re tired ’n have an early morning tomorrow.”

“I do…” as much as you hate to admit it, you should get home. You don’t want to. The affection, the kiss, the look in Joel’s eyes when he looks at you. You really like being here. You don’t know if you’ll get another chance.

“I’ll walk you home, sweetheart. You have a lot to take.”

There it is again. Sweetheart. Three times now, he’s called you that.

“I’m going to get all of my stuff packed up.”

“Sure, I’ll help you,” he says, following you back into his studio.

You start gathering your paints into your cardboard box, while Joel gingerly takes your CD out of the player, his movements measured as if he knows how much the disc means to you. Another sign of Joel’s ability to care that makes you fall deeper for him.

“You know… like I said last night… you can come over any time and use my stereo,” he says, placing a hand on his neck and rubbing it back and forth.

He actually looks nervous as he extends his offer to you, making your heart skip a beat.

“I… yeah, that sounds really nice.”

Joel picks up your box full of paint off of his work table, his eyebrows furrowing critically at the sight of the worn cardboard. “This box is on its last straw, you know that, right?”

“I do, I just… don’t really have anything else big enough to fit everything that I can easily carry.”

“Hmm,” he grunts disapprovingly, as if he truly does care about the inanimate objects that belong to you.

“I hardly have to take it places, so it’s not that terrible,” you offer.

“Still deserve better than that,” he says under his breath tucking the box under his arm.

Joel opens his door before grabbing his new umbrella. “No need to use yours, this’ll work for both of us.”

“We’ve shared one before,” you smile.

Your comment grants a chuckle from Joel. You love hearing his laugh. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The rain is light now–almost more of a mist–there’s no reason for an umbrella, but neither of you acknowledge or mention it. You like being under it with Joel, you like feeling the way your bodies brush against each other. You like how he angles it to fully cover you, leaving his large frame half open to the elements.

As your home comes into view, you start to feel a pang of sadness. You don’t want this walk to end. You’ve never felt like this with anybody before. The instant comfortability of him, the way you can make him laugh, and the way he watches you, as if he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Joel places the box of paints down on your porch table. “You home tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. Just have the library, but I’m usually back here by the late afternoon.”

“S’alright if I come by and drop your guitar off in the evening?”

“Yes, of course it is,” your voice squeaks a little too high with excitement.

He smiles, stepping closer, his broad frame towering over you, blocking the soft glow of the porch light. “Alright sweetheart, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” his voice low, eyes locked on your lips.

Your back presses against the door, your heart pounding against your chest as he leans in. “Yes, tomorrow,” you manage to whisper out.

“Thank you for your beautiful gift,” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. “I‘m gonna go sit in my chair, and look at it.”

“You’re welcome,” another whisper even quieter than the one before.

Joel leans in closer, angling his head down to place a quick soft kiss against your lips, you barely have a chance to savor it before he’s pulling away.

He cups your cheek again. “G’night sweetheart,” his low voice makes your knees weak, thankful for he front door against your back. You watch as he turns and walks away, this time he doesn’t look back.

The Middle & What's In Between - Joel's Version

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller ff #elks

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theborzoiarebackintown · 22 days ago

Note

What would be your advice to a prospective first time noodle horse human? I am looking to get a borzoi when I get my own place and wanted to ask your advice.

Woops idk how long this was sitting in my inbox but I missed it!!!

Okay I apologize if this becomes a novel. (It will)

First piece of advice, get a big ass yard, and strongly consider getting litter mates or two puppies around the same age. You’d be doing yourself a huge favor :P

Familiarize yourself with the breed’s health issues and decide what you’re okay with, because there isn’t a single line of borzoi anywhere that doesn’t have bloat or heart issues. There are levels to these health issues though. Some heart issues can seem scary but dogs live to old ages with them with no problems. Sudden death is the big bad, but isn’t as prevalent as some would have you believe. Every borzoi alive has relatives with bloat. Direct relatives (parents, siblings, I consider parent’s littermates direct as well) bloating are the riskiest, and multiple direct relatives is probably something to avoid. There’s a certain subjectiveness to all this as well, many people may not agree with what I consider okay and vice versa, so do your research and decide what YOU find acceptable.

A breeder with dogs/lines that have health issues isn’t inherently irresponsible at all, it’s what they’re doing to try and mitigate those issues that matters. It’s important to remember a lot of the testing we have now wasn’t available even 10 years ago, and a lot of people breeding borzoi have been doing it for 20-30+ years. They have generations upon generations of dogs bred long before echos, holters, or DM tests, were a thing, and have to balance pedigrees with health and structure. Don’t get caught up in what the internet says responsible breeding is, there isn’t a magical list of good or bad and every breed is different.

A breeder can also do all the health testing required by the OFA and not be responsible at all, health testing doesn’t mean they’re making responsible choices with the information that testing provides. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Don’t do a co-own. I have tried and failed at co-owns with people I thought I could trust, but words are free and anyone can present themselves however they want and flip the script at any time.

Have patience!! Start following kennels and learning structure now. The longer you look at borzoi and the more you learn, the more you’ll know what style of dog you want. The dogs I started out liking when I was brand new are NOT the style of dogs I enjoy today. Understand that borzoi are a rare breed and getting rarer, but pet homes are incredibly important to most breeders and if you’re an appropriate home they’ll want to place a dog with you.

Coursing ability in borzoi is an absolute crap shoot and anyone who tells you differently doesn’t know shit. You can breed the top two coursing dogs alive and get zero puppies that’ll course. That being said, there are definitely show lines that do zero coursing and like what even is the point then lol but a lack of a field championship isn’t much of a negative in my book. If you want a dog that consistently courses, get a whippet. It’s even normal for borzoi that can and do course to not get their field championships. It’s very common for them to learn the game and start cheating, and be unable to finish. Bastards. So my advice is don’t get hung up about it I guess.

Uhhh what else umm Ivanhoe is a BYB even though to a normal dog person they seem pretty good, even titling their dogs in conf. these days.

You can spend lots of time with borzoi but you won’t know what they’re really like until you live with one. They’re hard to describe. Like every breed, there’s a range of appropriate temperaments. They should be quietly confident, neither overbearing or shy. I’ve found the average borzoi will seek out attention from strangers without forcing themselves on anyone, but it’s not rare for them to be aloof and not care about other people at all.

They communicate subtly, and it’s really important to approach borzoi with a patient, but firm, hand. They’re not necessarily soft, but normal temperaments won’t tolerate harsh treatment. They WILL hold a grudge and can absolutely sulk and pout lol They need consistently enforced boundaries but usually a stern tone is enough to communicate they shouldn’t be doing something. On rare occasion they will need a strong correction, but usually only once rofl oh something a lot of people don’t talk about is most males go through an asshole phase around 18 months and you need to be ready to nip that shit in the bud. I’ve seen males ruined because their owners didn’t work through it with them appropriately. They basically need you to take the lead, and prove you’ve got their back and they don’t need to be a jerk to protect themselves. Clear communication and consistent positive public outings are key 👍🏻 (that doesn’t mean every outing must be incident free, but that you work through any shitty behavior and set behavioral expectations while showing them nothing bad is ultimately going to happen)

They’re somewhere between a cat and a “normal” dog temperament, and I consider them to be primitive breed adjacent. A lot of people don’t get them, and don’t take the time to learn how they talk. A lot of people find them flat and lacking personality, but I find those are the same people who don’t have the patience to really learn their language.

Is any of this good advice??? Rofl good luck!!! I’m willing to discuss individual breeders privately, so feel free to DM.

#text post #dogblr #petblr #sighthound #borzoi #asks #god a bitch can go on #there’s just so much shit I wish someone had told me when I was new!!!#I say as if I’m not still a total newbie #anyone #there are breeders who have produced national winning dogs #multiple best in show winning dogs #high ranking dogs #that I wouldn’t touch if you paid me #and nobody shares the deets with new people #it’s all very private and ridiculous imo

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rairii · 3 months ago

Text

I need to write this somewhere. I need to break through the wall of numbness that has shuttered down on top of my feelings. Maybe if I make myself feel and cry I'll get some relief.

I'm so afraid, underneath the numbness. I'm afraid for my friends. I'm afraid for my family. I'm afraid for people I don't know. I worry that I'll wake up tomorrow to reports of a higher number of suicides. I worry that people like my friends, my friends, or even people like me, will be attacked by those who will be emboldened by these results.

I worry, I worry.

I don't understand the people who could make this happen - I don't understand why they work on such diametrically opposite values to mine. It feels like they want the world to be miserable, like the idea that things can get better is offensive to them.

I know that's generally not true. There are people who believe that the world and life is miserable for those who deserve it. But my impression is that the people making the choices fucking us up think it's a zero sum game. That there is a us versus them. And they don't realize we are all us, all of us humans, all of us people, all of us life on this small planet Earth.

I don't know. I'll get up. I'll keep getting up and keep fighting and keep mourning and keep remembrance and keep trying. I'll keep hope.

But today, I'm only mourning, somewhere inside, where the numbness doesn't react.

I haven't heard a peep from my parents, or my brother, about the depressing news. We're all stewing in our emotions, I think, unable to voice out loud the fear we are feeling.

I don't know. My other country is also in shambles and going through upheaval. It seems every country is unstable and losing to nefarious forces.

I don't really feel hate right now. Some anger, yes. But mostly, I'm just a loss for words and feelings. Maybe I'll feel hate tomorrow, maybe this is the time I'll feel spite fueling me.

But in the meantime, I'll remember to be kind, and to be conscious of my impact, and to try and help others.

But I've also lost my patience. I've lost respect for so many people. I feel contempt. How could they do this to us? How could they do this to themselves?

I don't know. I don't understand.

I love you, friends. I love you, stranger on the internet who is trying to make the world better, one step at a time. Maybe in time I will love someone who hurt me, but I don't owe it to them. I don't owe them anything but the exact same minimum afforded to other people.

This reminds me of the time my cousin killed himself, in a way. Or at least, the fear that people out there are taking their lives does. I remember the heavy grief, and the way it solved nothing. I remember the hollowness. I remember the anger.

Don't do that to yourself. Don't do that to others. Don't give them an inch. If you'll die, make them work for it.

I'm rambling at this point, which was the point of this post. I don't have the energy to do anything today. But I'll pick myself up slowly, piece by piece... and make my way forward. Adding my grain of sand to the mountain of progress and help.

It's not the end. It's not the end of the world. This will not last. This too, shall pass.

#Raire Ramblings

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zelphin124 · 7 months ago

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Summer x Y/N, pt 2

Hah, you thought I was done? THINK AGAIN- TO THE CAFE! Happy birthday Summer! I'm fashionably late, but I was at work so eat that you highlighter. Anyway.

~o0o~

Cocoa Cafe, 1pm, CoffeeTale.

The smell of coffee beans engulfed you when you entered the cafe. The cafe was made from a massive tree, with thick branches weaved perfectly for its walls, and the roof draped with millions of luscious leaves. A small, stone outlet for the gentle fire-cooked water rested in the corner. Each table and seat were made from natural materials, and there were zero signs of mess or bugs in the area. The birds that gently chirped made it obvious who kept the place clean.

There were many people in the cafe. To your surprise, monsters and humans from every affiliation were here. Many were from different alternate universes, and many were enemies with each other. However, none of them raised a finger of harm toward the other, as if this place was magically keeping peace.

"Hello there! Welcome to Cocoa Cafe! I'm Cocoa, what's your name?"

It must have been the most jolly greeting you have ever received in your life. Your head naturally turned toward the counter. Your eyes gazed down the trunk of the tree that made up most of the shelves before they rested on a short, smiley sans. He wore a tan hoodie and dark pants with lavender slippers. His eyes were marshmallows, and he had a large crack in his head that constantly spewed out cocoa.

You returned a greeting before walking up to him, giving your name.

"What a lovely name! What can I get started for you today?" He smiled gently at you, pulling out a small pen and paper.

You had a feeling he was going off a script, but you also knew he was being genuine as if he loved his job. However, you weren't here to try something new.

The king had given you a promise, and you showed up early to anticipate it.

You communicated that to Cocoa, who eagerly stared into your soul.

"Oh! Your Summer's date! Right! Don't worry about the payment, and I have a table for you guys over here!" He immediately sat down his possessions and guided you over to a cloth table with many flowers scattered across it.

They just so happened to be your favorite flowers.

"Summer will be here shortly. He informed me that he was running late... I think there was some king stuff he had to partake in which took longer than expected."

Cocoa did not seem phased by your reaction, whatever it was. He simply set the table before grabbing his notes. "Please, get whatever you'd like. His majesty will cover it."

Whatever you asked for, Cocoa said they had. It didn't matter if you listed a PB&J to crab roasted on a unicorn, Cocoa explained how he had it all. It was peculiar, but you were able to get exactly what you craved.

"It will be out shortly! I will have Eggnog get started on it immediately!"

Cocoa didn't turn around before a loud thud shook the cafe outside.

You could see through the spare windows a large Gaster Blaster dragon, who knelt to the ground with such grace and honor. It had various printings similar to the king you met last night.

Lo and behold, that same king gracefully dismounted the dragon's back.

Summer strode into the cafe with a bright yellow outfit and a less attention-demanding crown. His grin remained the same, and he bee-lined toward Cocoa, sharing a few hushed words before he spotted you.

His eyes lit up the whole room when they did.

The way he approached you was similar to a ray of sunlight gently beaming on your face after being hidden by a cloud. You didn't have time to react before he took your hand and kissed it gently. "You have graced your beauty once more. Thank you for your patience, darling."

You explained to him that it would be foolish of you to turn down an offer like this.

The king smirked. "Foolish indeed. You wouldn't want to turn down an offer from a king."

Everything Summer did was with grace and elegance. The way he moved, the way he looked at you and his surroundings as if he was the embodiment of grace and charm himself. There was never a dull moment. He made good small talk - if you could even call it that. The questions he asked were deep and inspiring. They forced you to take a deeper look at things you believed, and when he cracked a joke or a flirt, you couldn't help but reward him with genuine smiles and laughs.

Cocoa came out with your food the moment you started to get hungry. Summer told you about his favorite sandwich, but that monte cristo looked better in person.

To your surprise, he had no problem sharing it with you.

"How can I resist such a captivating face?" He teased, reaching out his hand and holding yours. "Ask and you shall receive, princess."

His wink sent an array of shivers down your spine. Your face was red the moment he touched your hand. He made you feel like no one else before, as if you could melt like butter in his arms and he'd be perfectly okay putting you back together. The peace that engraved your heart was permanent, and you never wanted to let that go.

"I could stare into your eyes all day..." The king muttered, adjusting his crown. "This has been enjoyable, and I deeply apologize for the short time span, but a king can never stay away from his kingdom for too long."

It appears the meal had been paid for in advance, as the king got up, swept you off your feet, and gave you a lovely embrace as a goodbye. "I hope to see you again soon, darling~"

To your disappointment, he vanished from sight, and so did his dragon.

"Ah, he's always like that... coming and going on short notice... haha!" Cocoa smiled as he cleaned up your plates.

You didn't mind it... but you did hope to see him again.

~o0o~

Sorry yall it was really rushed. BUT! Here it is.

#summer sans x yn #sans x yn #summer sans #seasontale #coffeetale #cocoa sans #utmv #undertale au

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kigozula · 3 months ago

Text

As Long As We're Together - Sokkla Saturdays 2024

Day 3

FF.net & AO3

To all the hopeless romantics who fear not finding love.

Who would have seen this outcome for their love life? They didn't find love in their twenties. And now in their thirties, accepting this match proposed by their families didn't seem wrong.

But would they be able to learn to love each other?

Sokka already felt a spark he couldn't quite place.

"I declare you husband and wife!"

Azula looked unreadable. Although now that he gave it more thought, she looked like she didn't expect much from him or this marriage. From anyone in this world. She acted like that since their engagement. He so wanted to prove her wrong.

Sokka wondered how he got so lucky to marry a woman with such stunning eyes. And face. Her hair too. And her lips were just beautiful.

He leaned in and pressed a tender and promising kiss to her forehead. Which was as beautiful as the rest of her details. His kiss lingered more than he planned.

-------

After the ceremony they were brought to their now shared room. Sokka never teared his eyes off her. He felt that sparkle again and a strong sense of protectiveness over his bride.

"You seem unable to look away from me." Azula said, standing in front of the mirror while taking the ornaments off her hair. "Already regretting marrying me?"

"What... No!" Sokka replied without hesitation. "Quite the other way around actually."

Sokka walked up to her. Azula instinctively turned to face him. He was handsome. Strong and from what everybody else around her said, a good man. She knew him and his friends from seeing them from time to time.

After the war, Azula withdrew herself. She spent much time alone, with books and art. She didn't trust she would get a good man and didn't believe love would find her one day.

As much as she tried to focus on those thoughts again and keep her expectations from low to zero, she couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed and excited by the deep gaze of her husband.

Sokka took her hands in his and stroked them with his thumbs.

"I will do anything in my power to make you feel forever safe and make you happy Azula. I promise." he said confidently.

Azula smiled. But it wasn't a happy one. It was one of those smiles that secretly told "Yeah, right".

"I mean it! I could've said no Azula. But I chose to marry you, because I wanted to." Sokka said.

She couldn't bring herself to ask why, so she said: "Sokka, don't be too hopeful, I don't believe in a good marriage with love and understanding and patience. I don't believe you will stand by me no matter what."

Azula pulled away and turned around to walk away from him. But Sokka was faster. He took hold of her arm and turned her around. They were so close. Azula thought their noses were touching. And she was right because he leaned even closer and pressed his forehead to hers. His hold of her arm loosened, and he held her by the waist now. As if scared she would walk away again if he let go.

His gaze was so intense, Azula just gazed back. She felt hot under them and started feeling things she couldn't describe with words.

"I am Sokka. Your husband." He said "Your" so firmly. As if he were angry that she couldn't see it. Couldn't see him. Believe him. "And I am the one who will make you see how much he values you and this marriage. The one who will never let any harm come to you and the one who will always stand by you."

He spoke softly. But the words were so firm on his lips, she felt something on her spine.

Neither of them moved. They stood there silently. With hot gazes.

A brand-new book started today in Azula's life. This time, it wouldn't be that of other people's love stories. No. This book was Azula and Sokka's love story. And it would be one of the happiest and best ever.

#sokkla saturdays 2024 #sokkla #azula #sokka #sokkazula #as long as we're together #having luck like Azula is a hope isn't it <3 #this story came out so suddenly #I originally planned to post another one #but I had to share this one today #spoiler: they are going to have a wonderful marriage #Sokka is a prince charming warrior husband at the same time #screencaps:piandao

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baronessblixen · 1 year ago

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« What happened to you ? What’s this bruise on your face ? »

If you feel like writing again can you please do this prompt for me ? 🙏

Thank you for your patience! I've been thinking about this prompt for ages. Today I wrote it.

Set in season 6, hurt/comfort, some angst: Kersh puts Scully on another case without Mulder and once again she gets hurt. (wc: 1,347)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 11: Always Partners

She doesn't know if she's happy or sad that Mulder is here at the crime scene too. They weren't working together - again. And he shouldn't be here. She doubts that anyone called him. Even Skinner wouldn't dare. But now he's here. Much to her chagrin, he's not alone. She catches the exact second when Mulder spots her. One moment he's walking and smiling with Diana, the next he’s sprinting toward her, his face a mixture of terror and anger.

“What happened here?” he asks, his voice close to a bark. The paramedic working on Scully jumps back in surprise. But Mulder pays him zero mind.

“What happened to you?” His voice and his expression soften. He only has eyes for her. So far, Scully hasn’t found her voice. Too surprised is she by seeing him here. “What’s this bruise on your face?” He touches it gently and she winces. Mulder withdraws his hand as if burned and mumbles an apology.

“Who did this to you?” They’re surrounded by FBI, by paramedics and somewhere among these people lurks Diana, surely watching this exchange with a dagger between her teeth, waiting for the right moment to ram it into Scully’s back.

“Hey, give the lady some space, all right?” The paramedic elbows Mulder not so gently and he huffs in surprise.

“This lady is my partner.” The two enter a staring contest and Scully knows that neither of them can win it. The paramedic just wants to do his job and Mulder is all guard dog, refusing to move a single inch. She knows that his bark is worse than his bite, but if she doesn’t stop this, she will never be able to go home.

“Mulder, he’s just doing his job,” she says. Every word makes her jaw hurt. She barely registered the blow to her head. The attacker came out of nowhere, hit her good, and was gone before she even knew what was going on. Her memories as to what happened next are foggy. She remembers too many people, some of them asking her if she was okay. Skinner was there, and other faceless agents, one of whom called an ambulance. She remembers asking if they got the guy and passing out before she got an answer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” The paramedic asks.

“Yes,” she says at the same time as Mulder says “no.” They look at each other. A battle of wills. Scully hears the paramedic sigh and tears her eyes away from Mulder’s.

“I’m sure,” she repeats. “I’m fine.” Her words make Mulder groan.

“Scully, your face is black and blue. Did you pass out? Did she pass out?” The paramedic nods and Scully fears Mulder might snap.

“What the fuck happened here?” he asks, his eyes wild. Scully reaches out to grasp his hand. He calms as soon as he feels her touch. His eyes find hers again as he slips to the ground, kneeling in front of her so that they’re more eye level. He’s in the way of the paramedic but of course, he doesn’t care. His hands on her knees, his eyes plead with her.

“I was doing my job, Mulder,” Scully explains. “You know our job can be dangerous. We were tailing the head of a mob. One of his cronies got spooked and ran. He took everyone down who tried to stop him and one of these people was me.”

“Why are you even on this case?”

“Because Kersh assigned me to it, as you very well know.” Even after what happened with Peyton Ritter, Kersh is determined to separate them as often as he can. She didn’t want this case. She asked Kersh why they needed her and all he did was tell her to do what she was told before he dismissed her.

“Every time he puts you a case, you get hurt,” Mulder says.

“That’s the job.” And she’ll have to repeat the same thing at dinner with her mother Friday night. She’ll fuss, too.

“This isn’t your job,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Fox? Are you ready to go?” For a moment, Scully had forgotten about Diana Fowley. Now she’s standing there, glaring at Scully’s face, at the bruises there and if she’s not mistaken, the other woman is smirking with glee. As if sensing Scully’s rising anger, Mulder’s hold on her tightens.

“You have to go on your own, Diana,” he says matter-of-factly. “Someone has to stay with Scully.”

“She’s not alone,” Diana says, pointing at the paramedic.

“She needs someone to take her home.” Scully just watches this exchange, trying not to gloat. She can’t put it into words, doesn’t want to think too hard about it, but for once, she’s not going to decline Mulder’s help. As much as she hates to admit it, she needs it. She knows she has a concussion. Her body is still full of adrenaline and the pain will only become worse over time.

“There are plenty of other agents here. You’re working with me.” Diana looks directly at her when she says it. “Right now, you and Agent Scully aren’t partners.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Diana,” Mulder says, getting up. He stands behind Scully, a hand on her shoulder. “Scully and I are always partners.”

“Your loss,” Diana says, flipping her hair. “Remember this when you want my help next time.” With that, she walks off. Scully, Mulder, and even the paramedic visibly relax as soon as she’s out of sight.

“That was… something,” Scully says. “Thank you, Mulder.”

“For what?” he asks.

“For showing up here, for standing up for me.”

“Hey, did they give you the good painkillers this time?” He grins at her and what else can she do but smile back even if it puts her in pain?

“So you’ll be taking her home?” The paramedic snaps off his gloves, finally done with treating her wounds. “She most likely has a concussion and needs to be monitored closely. I advise you to consider going to the hospital after all, Agent Scully.”

��Thank you,” she says. “I’m a medical doctor myself and I know the risks. I’d rather go home.” The paramedic shrugs and hands her a blister of painkillers. He throws Mulder a look that seems to say ‘good luck’.

“Now that he’s gone,” Mulder says, helping her up from her chair. He doesn’t let go of her hand and she’s thankful because her knees feel wobbly. “Are you sure you don’t want to get checked out?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” she says as they start walking. “Right now I just want to go home. Why is everyone looking at me?” she asks Mulder as they pass other agents. “Does my face look that bad?”

“How honest do you want me to be?” His smile is as shaky as she feels.

“Mulder?”

“You have a very nice shiner, Scully. It’s- well, you look like you lost a boxing match.”

“Great,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” he says, his voice more serious. “It could have been worse. He could have had- it could have been so much worse. And once again I wasn’t there.”

“None of this is your fault, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But it feels like it. I should have been here. I should have-”

“You’re here now.”

“And I’m going to take care of you, Scully. Call me Dr. Mulder.”

“Well, then. Take me home, Dr. Mulder.”

He helps her into the car and kisses the cheek that’s not bruised.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he whispers before he’s gone again. She leans back, closing her eyes. She trusts Mulder to get her home and to take care of her. The last few hours are a distant memory. Here in the car with him, surrounded by his scent, by his mere presence, she can relax. The pain is getting stronger and she knows Mulder will suffer with her through the next few days. Just like partners do. And that’s what they are, no matter how hard Diana Fowley and Kersh may try to separate them.

#fictober23 #the words just came out of me today #whenever i'm fairly happy with a fic it doesn't do well #so excited to see what you guys think!#msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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