#all my feelings are about spies in space

[steveshairychest]

It's mermay so I'm having so many thoughts about siren Eddie trying to lure captain Steve off his ship, but he doesn't realise that Steve is deaf.

Steve knows about Eddie; he's had to stop quite a few of his men from jumping overboard to be with the beautiful siren. He spends so many days just leaning on the railing of his ship, gazing down at Eddie with a triumphant smile because he knows Eddie can't affect him, well, with his singing that is. He definitely affects Steve in other ways. Steve nearly toppled overboard just last week because he was too busy watching Eddie twirl a sword he no doubt stole while lounging on a rock, his gorgeous black tail glinting in the sun.

Eddie gives up trying to lure the captain into the sea after a month, but that doesn't mean he stops visiting the ship. He starts getting bolder. He throws stones in the captain's general direction to get his attention before proudly showing off the big fish he caught, only to get a confused sort of laugh from the man. He expected at least a clap or a thumbs up.

One morning, he spies the small boat that is usually hoisted up high on the side of the ship, in the water and he climbs inside, his tail too long so it hangs off the side while he waits. He nearly gives the captain and crew a heart attack when they finally pull it back up and find him lounging in the small boat with a rather large knife and lazy smile.

"I think you dropped this." Eddie grins at the captain, his sharp teeth causing several crew members to step back. He holds out the knife that he saw the man clumsily drop into his waters months ago. He is feeling generous. He'd normally keep treasures like that for himself.

"Thank you." Steve says with a soft smile. The warmth of his fingers shocks Eddie when he gently grabs the knife from his hand.

Eddie watches curiously as Steve turns to one of his crew mates, hands her the knife and then starts talking with his hands, well, that's what Eddie assumes is happening because the girl nods in understanding and rushes off to do whatever the captain said. He turns back to Eddie with a bright smile but Eddie can't stop staring at his hands. What was that?

"My name is Steve. What's your name?" Steve says the words out loud and with his hands, it both confuses and intrigues Eddie.

"Teach me that." He rushes out and points at Steve's hands, completely ignoring the captain's question.

Steve tilts his head in confusion, his brows furrowed and his eyes focused on Eddie's lips. His stare makes Eddie feel squirmy and he curls his lip to reveal sharp teeth to show Steve he doesn't like the attention. The captain doesn't get the memo and just stares harder.

"Talk slower. I can't hear you." He points to his ear and suddenly everything makes sense. Why Steve wasn’t affected by his song, why he didn't hear the crew screaming in the night when they were attacked last week. Eddie had almost been ready to climb aboard to wake the sleeping captain but the girl with the short hair had gone to fetch him just in time.

Eddie grabbed the edge of the small boat he was in and leaned closer to Steve, he was very aware that if the crew let go of the rope he'd go crashing back down to the sea but none of them moved. All their eyes watched the strange exchange between their captain and the siren that had been following them like a shadow.

"Teach me how to talk to you. I want to learn." And he does. Something about this human intrigues him. Why else would he follow him across the sea? If he were anyone else, Eddie would have slit his throat and dragged him down to the depths by now, but this captain is special.

He's decided that Steve will be his and his alone. Eddie always gets what he wants and what he wants is to learn Steve inside and out. Which includes learning this new language.

"OK, I'll teach you." Steve says with a nod.

Eddie smiles triumphantly, his sharp teeth on full display. "Great. Lessons start now." He looks pointedly at the space across from him in the small boat and Steve only hesitates for a moment before awkwardly climbing in.

"Tie it off and get back to work." He yells out to his crew without taking his eyes off Eddie, whose long tail is curled behind Steve. They sit in tense silence, Eddie's long nails tap tap tapping on the side of the boat before Steve sighs and says, "We'll start with the basics."

"Whatever you say, Captain."

The language is hard and Steve often laughs at Eddie when he angrily shakes his hands when he doesn't get the sign right.

But Eddie's determined to get it right because he's now one step closer to getting what he wants, and what he wants is Steve all to himself.

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One

Link to Part Two

TW mentions of human trafficking, rescue, injury, trauma

Steve locks Eddie in the car which, yeah, okay, it makes Eddie jump a little reflexively at the quiet click of the lock. And it might just be habit, or whatever, because it’s a really nice car.

Or maybe he’s even doing it for Eddie’s safety.

It still feels like he’s been locked in, though, and Eddie finds he’s...really not a fan of how this feels.

Either way, when Steve comes back less than ten minutes later and opens Eddie’s side of the car, Eddie’s still not sure how to feel about it. Suspicion is hard to shake.

Steve kneels right there on the floor of the lot, “swing around,” Eddie does, watching as Steve pulls antiseptic wipes out of the bottom of the bag, opening a packet and lifting Eddie’s foot. Eddie hisses when the wipe makes contact, it’s cold and, even though surely most of the wounds have scabbed by now, it still stings quite a bit, “sorry.” Steve looks up at Eddie earnestly, big eyes and floppy hair and, well, the moles are cute.

And having an Alpha kneel on the floor for him, that’s kind of nice too. Maybe Steve really is that good looking.

He wraps Eddie’s feet in a bandage, some tube bandage over the top, Eddie still slurping on his peanut butter chocolate shake. He’s going to have the absolute worst shit later, he knows it, too much rich food all at once, after a really long time of non at all, but honestly, so worth it.

“When we get home, I’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms, and maybe we can order you some clothes?” Steve pulls the bandage comfortably tight around Eddie’s foot, a nice gauze pad wrapped around the sole for cushioning.

“Errr, I mean, I, before, I was usually a good will kind of shopper, you know? Maybe Target on a good day?”

Steve just blinks at him for a second, before that clearly sinks in, “don’t...don’t think about the money, if that’s what you mean, we can get you some clothes, really, I don’t mind.”

And Eddie’s sure as fuck not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Steve’s already broke the bank on Eddie, what’s a little more, right?”

Eddie whistles, he can’t help it. Objectively, obviously, he knew Steve was loaded. There’s a difference between knowing that and…seeing it. This is like a fucking mansion. Well, it’s not like a mansion, obviously. It is a mansion.

Automatic electric gates, a drive that’s got to be a half mile long...and lawns. Trees. Land stretching off into the distance.

The house is fucking nice. It’s kind of sprawling...just the garage looks fucking massive on it’s own.

Steve sort of hovers around Eddie as he limps over the threshold, and, yeap, just as nice inside as it is outside. Very sleek and modern, big open spaces, lots of glass. Dark wood and bookcases filled with leather books and big paintings that look impressive but aren’t...well. Eddie’s not a fan, really. Eddie spies a building out the back, also lots of glass...Eddie’s money is on indoor pool.

“Something smells good,” Eddie says, as he limps further into the house, “smells kind of homey.” Which is true, something here smells vaguely relaxing. Kind of...comforting. Safe.

Eddie looks around as he gets further in, and the place is so big it is kind of a walk, it’s...really nice, but also kind of soulless. It doesn’t look lived in at all. And, Eddie frowns, something occurring to him for the very first time. Steve’s a good looking Alpha, and he’s fucking loaded, “will your, erm,” Eddie flounders, “partner, mind me being here?”

Steve laughs, seeing Eddie through to the lounge to sit on the couch, “don’t think I would have been able to play my part today if I were in any kind of serious relationship. Hagan would have known if I was seeing anyone, the press loves that shit.”

And yeah, all of that makes total sense, and Eddie feels kind of stupid for not putting that together. But it...doesn’t really make sense, considering Steve is, still, clearly, very hot and very loaded.

“Okay,” Steve plops a laptop into Eddie’s lap, open to a clothing website. “just open tabs on some stuff you’d like, and then give it back to me when you’re done. You’re going to need some clothes while Hopper tracks down your uncle, okay? I’m going to go and set up a room.”

Eddie’s just sort of rolling with it at this point, so he nods and smiles and then blinks down at a Tom Ford Slim-Fit Button-Down Collar Checked Cotton shirt...that’s nearly seven hundred dollars.

And Eddie would never, in a million fucking years, be caught dead in it. Honestly, he thinks he actually prefers the white nightdress.

Eddie looks at the drop down menu, clicks on ‘cashmere’ for shits and giggles, and then laughs to himself when the very first listing is a black turtle-neck...for over a thousand odd dollars. Fucking rich people are batshit.

Eddie manages to find a drop down that lets him filter out everything over two hundred and fifty dollars, and then he searches by lowest price first. He starts opening tabs, mostly inoffensive lounge wear – a large portion of which is very, very unfortunately beige.

Eddie hears Steve coming before he sees him, “just do it please Carol,” and he sounds...exasperated by whoever Carol is. Steve comes back and takes the laptop. He very very briefly frowns at Eddie over the top of the screen, but it’s over so fast Eddie’s not entirely sure he saw it, “you think you’ll want something more to eat later?”

Eddie did eat his weight in McDonalds a couple of hours ago...but he hasn’t been really full for years, “uhm, yeah, in a bit, maybe?”

“Sure, I’ll see what we have.”

And then Eddie just...sits there. He can’t actually remember the last time he just...sat on a couch. The only place the Omega at the ranch are allowed to sit is either the floor, when they’ve been told to, the table, but only when eating...and probably their beds in the dorm.

Sitting here feels kind of naughty, actually, sitting here, relaxing, comfortable and warm. Eddie touches the lush, velvety feel of the couch, it’s really nice, really soft-“chicken and pasta?” Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin. Like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Logically, he knows that isn’t the case, but his feet are tingling regardless.

Steve can actually cook, who knew? Well, it might only be a simple dish, browned off chicken chunks in something creamy and mushroomy, sitting on some pasta, but it’s absolutely delicious.

“We should probably get someone to look at your feet tomorrow.”

Eddie shrugs, nearly vibrating with excitement at the sight of garlic bread and trying his best to hide it, “always been fine before.”

“Still, I wouldn’t want them getting infected. Do you want me to tell Hopper anything about your uncle? I presume he will be busy for a little bit but…?”

Eddie swallows but...nods, Steve getting his phone and Hoppers card, “he’s called Wayne Munson, he’s my dads brother. He lives in a trailer park in, uhm, Hawkins. Indiana.”

Steve taps at his phone, “that’s not actually that far, we could...probably drive that, maybe in a day, once you feel up to it. I’ll see what Hopper says, see if he gets back to us tomorrow, I figure we've both had a long day.”

And that sounds...well. Eddie's running out of reasons to be suspicious, to question this, to question Steve. He has a little kernel of hope, real, genuine hope, growing inside him now...that this is true. That he's going to be free. That he's going to see Wayne.

Eddie nods, keeps eating, is thrilled when Steve offers him a beer, nodding happily. Steve withdraws it at the last second, “wait, just how old are you?”

“Errr…twenty one?”

Steve laughs, “try again,” but he does hand over the beer.

“Eighteen. I was there for a couple of years, maybe a bit longer, they got me walking home from school. Pretty sure my parents wouldn’t have, you know, noticed, probably best I don’t go back there, anyway. Quite a few Omega came through in the time that I was, you know, there...”

Steve’s staring off into space though, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, clearly not listening.“-oh.”

“Errr...Steve, you okay?” Steve looks like his brain has just stalled. Like completely shut down, “Steve, man, you’re freaking me out a bit here.”

Steve frowns, finally showing some life, his fork still literally hanging in air, half way to his mouth, “Tommy Hagan is probably being arrested.”

“I, err...I mean, yeah? I fucking hope he is?”

As Eddie watches, a bit of chicken falls off Steve’s fork and splats onto his plate, “right now, other than me, you, and the FBI...no one knows that. That Tommy’s being arrested, arrested for something fucking terrible.”

“Riiight…”

“He’s being arrested for something he can’t come back from. It’ll got public. His names about to be mud. His stocks are going to tank. Every part of everything Tommy owns is about to go up in flames.” Steve’s fork clangs onto the plate, “I’m so sorry, I have to go to work.”

“I...what?”

Steve’s already picking up his phone, his keys, sliding on his jacket, “help yourself to anything you need, I’ll be back...at some point.” Steve’s already calling someone, “I need you in the office, right now. I want Wheeler, from legal, make sure finance is there, actually, make sure Henderson has availability tomorrow,” Steve comes back from the front door, sliding a business card in front of Eddie, “no, right now, I’m on my way, twenty minutes.”

Eddie looks at the card; it’s Steve’s, has his email, office number and mobile on it, presumably so Eddie can get hold of him. Eddie’s pretty sure he just witnessed the first steps of a hostile take over, or something.

And now he’s in this massive house, all alone.

Link to Part Four

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @weekend-dreamer7 @lololol-1234 @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[readychilledwine]

Hi, I have a fic idea. So Beron has somehow found out that Eris is scheming against him but Beron just doesn't know what Eris' plan is. So the reader is basically told by Beron to get close to Eris to find out his plan. But as time passes by, Reader falls for Eris and can't bring herself to tell Eris' plan to Beron in the court room but Eris over hears the their conversation and confronts the reader. He also asks her why didnt she snitch on him so the reader tells him that she loves him too much to do that. Then reader is attacked by Beron's soldiers or you can end it however you like. If you don't wanna write it, then it's okay but just let me know what you think of it🥺.

I think this is amazing and a twist on what we normally see for this storyline idea.

Tainted Love

Warnings - torture. Beron, cliffhanger. Angst and anger. Betrayal.

"Do you want to tell me why I caught you with my father tonight or do you want me to find out on my own?"

You took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling for strength. It had already been a hard day dealing with Beron. The last thing you wanted to be doing was dealing with an angry Eris now, too.

"Can we talk about it in the morning, please? I just want to enjoy dinner."

Eris looked at you as if you had grown a second head. "Tell now, or I will let Azriel tell me why he sent me there."

You had to hold back your eye roll at the mention of the shadowsinger. Since Eris pulled you into his bargain with Rhysand, a shadow has trailed you. Following you and relaying your every move to the Inner Circle and Eris.

It was fair at first. You knew that deep down inside. You were one of Beron's more talented spies, used for situations where the males just weren't enough.

You were soft, gentle, beautiful. It was easy for people to open up to you, and that was why Beron had picked you for this over his other options.

He knew Eris was plotting and playing against him. He's known for years. He just needed to figure out how.

That was where you came in. Eris has an eye for you since the two of you were children. He had loved you since you were teens. Now, as adults, Eris was absolutely in love with you. He loved you from the soles of your feet to the soft curl of your hair and every flaw in-between.

You, having never known love or safety, had walls he'd been trying to take down the second you began approaching him on Beron's command. You have naively expected his efforts to fail, but one night as you two danced in his kitchen, you realized they hadn't.

You were helplessly in love with Eris.

And your mission had changed.

You had started giving Beron information while also exposing fae in the court Eris needed taken out.

The master of coin? You caught him steal from under Beron and Eris's noses, in a ploy of his own to wipe out the family as a whole. You watched him burned by your High Lord the second that information was tortured from him.

His second general, the one Eris hated, you turned in for hiding tithes and embezzling from his territory. He was given a traitors death, sent to the forest to become one with the trees, ripped down flesh and all by their roots.

Beron had caught on, though. Each interrogation proved each fae you turned in was not working with Eris, nor aware of his plan.

You could still feel his hand below your dress, resting in your ribcage just above your heart. He was on to you, and if you weren't smarter, you too might meet that dungeon and those trees.

Eris cleared his throat and brought you back to him. "Don't make me ask again, little fox. Please just tell me the truth."

You set everything down and stepped away from the table, ensuring there was space between you two. "Beron knows you're working against him," Eris's face dropped before schooling. "He's known for awhile."

"For how long?"

You looked up, tears starting to fall as you realized this would be the end.

The second you told him, there were no more nights in his arms. No more shared kisses. No more hushed I love yous.

But telling him put him another step ahead of Beron. You had already launched him impossibly ahead. Beron would only figure out his plan when it was too late, when Eris had already made that final move and Death reached a cool hand out to take Beron.

"Since after the war with Hybern. He found a letter from the shadowsinger in your office. He had another of his spies decode it."

Eris nodded, processing everything slowly before standing himself. "And how, y/n, do you know all of this?"

"He told me when he asked me to get close to you and figure out your plan."

The confession was a hanging. Eris stood there nodding before taking his whiskey in his hand and downing it. "So all of this wasn't real. All the nights whispering about our dreams? All the plans we made? This all meant nothing to you?"

"You mean everything to me," your voice broke. "At first, yes, I was doing my job. But I fell in love with you when I saw who you were. When I realized who you wanted to be to this Court. To our home. I never told him anything. I've been distracting him with information regarding males you wanted taken out anyways."

Eris shook his head, his own tears beginning to fall. "I don't believe you. I loved you. I fucking loved you and you did this to me? To us? Even if you were telling me the truth, how am I ever supposed to trust you now? How can I trust you to rule at my side?"

No answer came from you. You stared towards your boots in shame. "Azriel can tell you everything that was discussed. I know you all have a shadow trailing m-"

"Because Rhysand didn't fucking trust you!" Eris broke down into anger. All formality has left him as he pulled at his short hair and paced the dining room of your small home. "Rhysand did not trust you and I should have never trusted you either."

You watched as he grabbed his jacket, "I am done. Do not follow me. Do not come find me. When Beron is gone, you will leave this court or I will have you killed. Your choice."

You couldn't help but to look up, tears falling and stinging your face. "Eris, please, I love you."

He paused momentarily, resting his head on the doorway. "I wish I could believe that, y/n. I love you more than anything, I always have, and I probably always will. But you lied. You played me."

"I did my job so he wouldn't kill me," you turned away from him, having thought he of all fae would have understood.

"Maybe it would have been better off if he had." Eris left, slamming the door behind him.

The news of your breakup hit the courts quickly, too quickly for you to pack and leave.

Which is why you found yourself tied to a whipping post in Beron's private dungeon. He had sent some of his men for you, allowing them to best you before dragging your unconscious body here."Turns out your cunt isn't as powerful as you think it is, is it dear y/n?"

You didn't respond, knowing that would only make day 3 of this torture worse. "You had one job, and you failed me." You felt Beron's hand trail your back before grabbing the collar of your dress and ripping it down to bodice. "Such a shame, too. I find you absolutely exquisite. Maybe my son just has higher standards or different tastes than I do."

You didn't have time to prepare as the first lashing came, ripping your skin open and causing your mouth to fall open in shock. "How many do you think you deserve, y/n? Not only did you fail me. You also allowed him to bed you, losing all power and worth you may have thought you had to me, and what little information you did give me, while useful, never gave us an answer on my son's impeding betrayal." Another lashing had you crying out, body leaning against the pull as the cuts overlapped and merged together.

Beron ran his hand up your back again, knee digging into your spine as he pushed you into the whipping pole and put your hair up into a bun. "Do not fret, little doll. I won't leave marks where anyone besides me will be able to enjoy them if you survive."

You lost count of his strikes after 20. You couldn't even respond anymore to them. You felt Beron's chest against your back as he untied you, allowing you to fall to the ground, body too broke to hold itself up.

He left you there bleeding on the dirt, unable to move to clean the deep wounds or even take a proper breath.

The last thing you remembered seeing was a flash of wings and red hair, rushing to you as the world faded to black.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

[sherewrytes]

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝓒 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻

Summary: You were tired of your plug always being a weirdo and never having what you wanted so you begged Sasha for her plug, Connie.

warnings: mature scenes, smut, weed smoking.

Your day had started with frustration. Your regular weed plug had bailed on you last minute, leaving you scrambling for options. Frustrated and in need of a break from the stress of finals, you turned to Sasha for help.

She was the one who always seemed to have a solution for everything, especially when it came to sourcing the good stuff.

"Sasha, my plug flaked on me. Can you hook me up with yours?" you texted, hoping for a quick response.

Her reply was almost instantaneous. "No worries! I'll set you up with Connie. He's legit and his stuff is fire. You'll like him."

With Sasha's recommendation in mind, you agreed to meet Connie later that evening. Nervous anticipation mingled with relief as you headed to the rendezvous spot. It wasn't long before you saw him pull up—a sleek, tinted matte black G-Wagon with red rims.

Connie rolled down his window as you approached, his presence commanding yet surprisingly relaxed. You exchanged brief introductions, and then he handed you the baggies of Trainwreck and OG Kush.

The Weeknd's "Shameless" softly played in the background, adding a touch of atmosphere to the exchange.

You couldn't help but smile at the coincidence or perhaps the intention behind the music choice, giving Connie a small giggle of appreciation before you paid him and walked away.

Unbeknownst to you, Connie lingered a moment longer, his eyes tracing your figure appreciatively. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt from the first moment he laid eyes on you. His mind raced with thoughts of wanting to get to know you beyond this transaction.

Back in your apartment, you rolled up and settled in to unwind. Connie's image lingered in your mind—not just his looks, but the energy he exuded. He was undeniably attractive, but the idea of getting involved with your weed dealer gave you pause. With finals weighing heavily on your mind, romantic entanglements were the last thing on your agenda.

Meanwhile, Connie couldn't shake off the impression you had left on him. He swung by Sasha's place, unable to contain his curiosity and desire to know more about you.

"Why didn't you introduce me to Y/N sooner?" he asked Sasha, his tone laced with both annoyance and amusement. "She's fine as hell."

Sasha rolled her eyes playfully, catching onto Connie's newfound interest. "Didn't think you were looking for more than just a business connection, Connie. But if you're into her, go for it."

Connie's mind was made up. He wanted to see where this could go with you, beyond just being your weed supplier. He started texting you more frequently, not just about weed but about everything and anything. You found yourself enjoying the conversations, his easygoing nature calming your nerves amidst the chaos of exams.

But as finals approached, your responses became sporadic. Connie noticed the change and it bothered him more than he expected. He pressed Sasha for information, needing to understand why you seemed distant.

"Y/N's got finals," Sasha explained, trying to appease his curiosity. "She's buried in books right now. Give her some space."

Connie thought to himself that both your lives were so different, his just a guy on the street trying to make it to the next day and you a girl in university studying for your dream career.

It made him feel a bit insecure, but he didn't let it stress him too much.

He bounced from Sasha's spot back to Ony's crib, where the air was thick with smoke and the vibes were chill. Eren, Jean, and Ony were deep into their game, but Connie's mind kept drifting back to you. Even as he tried to get into the flow of the game, he found himself constantly checking his phone, hoping for a message from you.

But all he saw was your latest IG story—a real moment, you looking stressed AF, tears welling up as you spilled about the pressure of finals.

It hit him deep, reminding him of the gap between both your lives, yet making him respect your hustle even more.

The evening after your last final, you heard a knock at your door. You weren't expecting anyone and felt a twinge of curiosity. Opening the door, you were greeted by Connie, looking as cool and confident as ever.

He held a couple of bags, one from Diesel, Von Dutch and another from Jacquemus, and a grin that made your heart skip a beat. The scent of your favorite takeout wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Hey, thought you might need a little celebration," he said, stepping inside and setting the bags on your coffee table.

You were wearing a burnt orange silk shorts set, the long sleeve cropped button-up highlighting your deeply melanated skin. Connie's eyes lingered a bit too long, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you kind of liked it.

"I can’t believe you did all this," you said, your voice soft with gratitude. "You didn’t have to."

Connie shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Figured you deserved it after all that hard work. Plus, I missed our chats."

You smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the weed. "I missed them too."

"Don't just stare at them Ma open them up" Connie smiled while sitting on your couch and pulling you next to him. Connie was wearing his Essentials Sweatshirt paired with sweat shorts from FOG Essentials paired with beige Nike dunks.

You opened up the Von Dutch bag first to see a cute cropped tshirt. Then you reached for the Diesel bag, feelin' the excitement build. As you opened it, your eyes widened, and a grin spread across your face. Inside was the Diesel Fluffy iconic mini bag in pink and blue, lookin' all cute and stylish

"Oh my God, Connie! These are so cute!" you exclaimed, holdin' up the bags, your voice filled with joy.

"Yeah, I knew you’d like ‘em," Connie said with a proud smirk, leanin' back on the couch. "You deserve it, baby. Keep goin'. There's more."

You set the bag aside carefully and reached for the Jacquemus shopping bag. Inside, you found two Le Bob Artichaut hats, one in pink and one in blue denim. "No way! These are perfect!" you squealed, throwing your arms around him to hug him tightly.

"You really know how to spoil a girl, Connie. Thank you." you said with an ecstatic tone.

"Nah, you worth it. Gotta keep my girl lookin' fly," he replied, pullin' you closer. "Besides, it's fun seein' you happy like this."

You felt warm and loved, appreciatin' every moment. Connie always had a way of makin' you feel special, and today was no different.

Connie rolled up some blunts for you and him to smoke while you scrolled through your phone looking for some music to play since you usually like smoking to music sometimes. She pulled up Just me and you by Larry June & Ro James

Connie leaned back, taking a long drag before passing the blunt to you. "So, how's finals been treatin' you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You sighed, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "They been kickin' my ass, to be honest. But I'm almost done. Just need to get through these last few days."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I feel that. You need a break, for real. That's why I brought all this." He gestured to the takeout and the Diesel, Von Dutch and Jacquemus bags he had set on the table.

You couldn't help but smile. "You really ain't have to do all this, Connie. But I appreciate it, for real."

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but there was a softness in his gaze. "Figured you deserved it after all that hard work. Plus, I missed our lil' chats."

You took another hit, feeling the tension of the past few weeks start to fade away. "I missed 'em too. You been good though?"

"Yeah, just been grindin' as usual," he said, his eyes flicking over your outfit again. "But I gotta say, you look real good tonight."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Thanks. I wasn't expectin' company, but I'm glad you're here."

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Wanted to. Plus, I threw in some new strain I been workin' on. Thought you'd like it."

You found yourself inching closer to him, the barrier between dealer and client blurring into something more personal, more intimate.

The warmth from the weed and Connie's presence made everything else fade into the background.

Eventually, the blunt burned down to a roach, and you both sat in a comfortable silence. Connie's arm rested behind you on the couch, and you leaned into him, feeling a sense of ease you hadn't felt in weeks.

"So, what you thinkin'?" he asked softly, his voice low and smooth paired with his low red eyes. Connie was eyeing you up and down next to him. The way he was looking at you, was turning you on. You were both staring into each each other's eyes

You turned away your head to break the eye contact, only to feel Connie's fingers on your jaw turning him back to him saying "I'm over here Ma, focus." You blushed a lil, trying to focus on him.

Connie smiled showing off his gold and diamond studded canine grillz. "You gon answer me, tell me what you're thinkin"

"Nothin' much Connie, just thinkin about the fact you already checkin for me heavy and we're just friends"

Connie didn't like when you referred to him as your friend because he wanted so much more. Connie brushed a hand across those cheeks " " I don't wanna be friends." He leans in reading your expression for confirmation before letting your lips meet for a slow deep kiss.

"Connie" you whispered against his lips. "Tell me what you want Ma and I'll give it to you. Just say it." Connie stared at your face taking in your features.

Connie pulled you onto his lap, your arms around his neck, his around your waist, one hand slowly sliding up your back to lightly grip your head to pull you into the kiss more.

You whimper and sqirm a bit when he lifts you up and places you right on the growing clothed erection.

While awaiting your answer, he began slowly kissing on your jaw and neck leaving marks. He pulled you as close as he can to his chest and pushing your head into his neck, encouraging you to mark him as yours.

"Tell me to stop or tell me you want this as bad as I do"

You stared at Connie,biting your lips trying to hold back your moans but you couldn't. You looked at him in his and begged "Please Connie"

Next thing you know, you were flat on your back on the couch with Connie slowly sliding down your burnt orange shorts down your thighs. "Fuck! you're soaking already." Connie sighed out with a husky tone.

The moment his mouth connected with your wnet pussy, you were seeing stars. Ofc you've had sex before, got eaten out before but not like this. Connie was easily going to become your best eater.

Connie was murmering to himself saying,

So fuckin wet Ma *slurp* Mine You taste so good

You felt his tatted fingers slide in and out of you,while his tongue licked you from your clit all the way down to you sopping entrance. It felt like the wetter you got, the more he ate. It was like he was licking up every drop you released.

Connie pushed his face deeper into your thighs while curling his fingers upward. The rhythm was in, up and out. Your legs tightened around his head while grinding against his face.

"Oh,God" you groaned "Oh, god. Connie, mm gonna"

Connie slipped his fingers out in favor of his tongue,dipping in and out of your cunt while his thumb rubbed firm cirlces against your clit.

Your body was shaking under him. He stared up at you. eyes red and filled with lust. A soft scream came out your mouth while your back arched off the couch and he never stopped. you heard him groan and smirk against you. When you finally came down off your orgasmic high. Connie stared at you and said "Bedroom now"

You stared at him and saw he he was serious so you jumped off the couch and walked to your room with Connie trailing behind you.

As soon as you entered your room. Connie picked you up and drop you on your bed. He came over you staring at you. You could see his face wet from your cum. You licked your lips and pulled him in for a kiss.

Connie undressed himself and you. connie stared at you for a brief moment while you take in his length. He had a pink tip, leaking pre and a thick vein running along the underneath.

You never had something that big before. Connie smirked and said "I'll go easy on you Ma. Promise."

You felt Connie pushed in slowly. stretching you out, your eyes widen a bit. You closed your eyes only to then feel Connie's hand sliding up your body and lightly gripping your jaw "Don't close your eyes. Look at me."

Connie fucked you deep and slow. obviously trying to get you used to his size. Tears wet the corner of your eyes. Connie leaned in and kissed him away saying " You can take it Ma. I know you can. Just say the word and I'll break you in so good."

"Con! Please" Please what y/n Fuck me! I am fucking you Connie! Harder

"You need it deeper Ma." Connie smirked and spread your legs wider then spread your pussy wider exposing your clit. He grinded himself against it with every hard thrust he gave you. You were screaming his name "Con you feel so good!"

"shit,pa—" you wailed, knuckles turning white with the strong grip you had against the bedsheet. "'s too much!"

You never been fucked so hard in your life. The way your bed screeched against the floor and your headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust he gave you it was ridiculous. You tried turning your head to the side to avoid looking into his eyes.

“Look at me while I fuck you.”

“c-connn” you teeth bit into your lip making it wet, you held in the grunt of pleasure leaning forward trying to catch your breath. Your mind barely comprehending the massive orgasm you felt coming. He was rutting into you like an animal, had you squirming under him.

he grunted, while licking and nipping at your jaw line," Come on Ma. Just take it. It's too good..." He started to thrust up into you making you yelp out

" right there mama?" "mhm hmm" you shook your head not wanting him to stop " come on baby use your words" "Yes Connie..right there!"

you were gripping the sheets and screaming, tongue out begging. " O-ohh fuckk babyyyy"

im gonna cum mama" he groaned into your head while kissing and sucking on your neck.

he grabbed your hand while his hand still gripped your jaw and his thumb rubbing against your cheek.

"cum inside mee" you purred

" y/n. dont say shit like that. You want my cum for real." You tried catching your breath but you barely got the words out from how deviously hard he was fucking you. "Yes Con. please."

His hips was ramming his cock in and out of you. You feared he'd break you the way he was fucking you. He rutted into you faster and harder. You could barely get a sound out of your throat

You felt yourself tighten and clenching his cock while you came, squirting on his hips and your chest. Connie was still rutting into you.

"Fuck y/n mm cumming" You felt Connie fill you up inside the sensation of it had your eyes rolling back and you cumming around his cock again.

Connie pulled it and watched his cum trickle down your thighs.

Connie felt like he was was on cloud nine. He felt like he shouldve asked you to be his girl first but things got a lil heated.

Connie pulled you off the bed and dragged you to your bathroom so you can both clean up and shower together.

[13knowge]

Hi. For a long time i thought this was pretty weird (?) but after doing more research i found out that many people shared it and it made me pretty happy, i found a part on the internet pretty funny and i want to have fun too.

I'm not very good at English but i tried my best getting a little help.

So, these are my favorite OP characters and some headcanons i have of them of how they are when they are in love or in a relationship.

CW: SFW / KINK

Kaido

Kaido in love can get pretty scary, he knows he's scary and uses it to make fun of you. He also invades your personal space.

When he is drunk he seeks physical contact, sometimes he doesn't measure his strength and you get to feel a bit of discomfort to his grip.

He doesn't care if his subordinates are present or not when he shows his affection towards you, he likes to show you off.

His way of flirting is to take you on his ship to accompany him to eliminate his enemies, he wants to show you how strong he is and the respect his crew has for him.

In intimacy he likes to use intimidation and point out how small you are and that he could tear you apart if he wanted to.

Rob Lucci

He definitely chases you everywhere, no matter where you go, he will follow your footsteps wherever you decide to go. You will never be out of his vision. It's not that he distrusts you, he trusts you wholeheartedly, it's just that his favorite activity is to always be with you even though he recognizes that you need your "space".

He spies and reports on every person who approaches you to know if they are to be trusted. Regardless of your opinion, that is up to him to decide.

It will be better for everyone's sake that no one dares to even draw a tear from you or else he will commit the most violent and bloody murder. Eventually you will realize that this person has disappeared.

He doesn't show you affection in front of others, for him that's too private, but he also doesn't bother if it's you who shows some kind of affection, in that case, he doesn't ignore you.

When it's just the two of you alone, he never lets go, he's a cat that climbs on top of you to lick your neck.

During sex he has absolute control over your body, he knows perfectly where to touch you and how to make you go crazy. He uses his hybrid form to leave marks like scratches and some bites.

On special occasions he likes to be treated as a pet and to wear a collar to dominate him and follow your orders.

Shanks

He is very attentive and dedicated, he treats you with great delicacy and gentleness. Very gentlemanly.

He will always give you the best of the best, you will never be disappointed. He looks for the best treasures to be your property.

He will make you laugh many times, he is a very funny man, especially when he is drunk.

All the time he is talking about you. Even when he fights with his enemies, before finishing them he presumes that he has to leave quickly because he has to kiss someone.

He recognizes your strength and independence but is secretly terrified of something bad happening to you.

In a drunken state is when he is most sexually active and becomes a complete stranger, he is very wild. He has a fetish for smells and is very aroused by the contact when both are sweaty. In the midst of this activity he likes to talk dirty.

Sir Crocodile

It must be a miracle when he says something nice about you. He is not very affectionate, it is very difficult for him, sometimes it seems that he is not even interested in you.

He is a man of very few words, he has peculiar ways of letting you know he loves you and makes sure they are unique and special.

He does not like you to get involved in his work. He will keep the relationship very private and would expect you to do the same.

He is very jealous, as soon as someone wants to flirt with you, Crocodile squeezes your waist with his hook.

He doesn't like to murder people when you are present, he thinks it's something you shouldn't witness.

Although he thinks Buggy is an idiot, he is one of the few people next to Mihawk that he feels safe for you to be with.

When it comes to sex he is rough and gentle at the same time. He makes sure you feel comfortable. After that he feels more open to express his feelings and tell you how much he loves you.

I had a lot of fun writing this hahahahaha, hope you like it <3

[netflix]

Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact? 

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work? 

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do.  This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of? 

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that? 

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right? 

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be? 

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work? 

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling.  It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

[januaryembrs]

hi em!! im so late but happy 3k, it’s so deserved you’re an amazing writer! anyway, could i order a tea? i saw this picture: https://pin.it/mv0D4zZ9s and i thought it would be fun if bushy and spencer went to the beach and he was hating it cos of germs and all that, but then he had to wear his sunglasses over his normal glasses and bugsy’s just teasing him—have fun!

description: Bugsy and Spencer have a little downtime at the beach after hiding their relationship for all of one week

length: 1.1k

warning: nothing really, talk of spider mating rituals lol. Picture nonnie was talking about included above!

part of the trouble almost all my life universe

She leaned into his embrace, her back pressing against his warm chest, his skin sticky with a meld of sweat and suncream as they watched the waves rolling into shore.

“I love them all so much,” She sighed, Spencer’s arms wrapping around her waist to lean a book on the soft of her stomach, creasing where she’d pulled on one of his shirts over her bikini, “But I miss things being just us sometimes,”

“Bug, we live together,” Spencer smirked, and she groaned, flicking a glance up at him where he was squinting behind the lenses of his prescription glasses, trying to read his novel whilst looking over her shoulder. 

“You know what I meant,” She grumbled, feeling stupid for saying it, only for him to chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into the nooks of her spine. She smiled at the feeling, the grin widening when he kissed the side of her head sweetly.

“I know what you meant,” He agreed, giving her a few more pecks for good measure because as much as he loved teasing her until she was unnaturally shy, he loved the affectionate side of her more. “It’s getting hard hiding it from them,”

“And yet we’re so good at it,” She quipped, the two of them sharing a towel instead of a sunlounger, Spencer’s head being propped up by their bags and jackets, his girlfriend nestled between his legs like they were a single cell amoeba, “We could be like spies, all this undercover work. Seven whole days hiding a relationship from five of the best profiler’s in America, that’s got to be some kind of record.”

He smiled, and lay his book down flat on her stomach, sacrificing his now free hands to wrap all the way around her and squeeze her to him tightly. Because she was right. He loved the every day routine they’d slipped into at home, the natural kisses before bed and before they left the comfort of their four walls, the only space where they could be so openly themselves without prying eyes. He wished he could hold her like this every day, or atleast didn’t have to watch over his shoulder for any of the team watching just a little too closely when they would exchange loving looks. 

He loved being able to hold her so unapologetically, loved that she preened and nuzzled into his touch like it was all she’d ever wanted as well. Spencer never had to question himself a single moment he was with her. He knew every shred of love he’d ever felt for her was reciprocated, and the thought of it alone made him warm inside, where they lay comfortably on the sunny beach, only a handful of other patrons enjoying the Friday morning waves. 

He felt a headache brewing however from the light glaring in his eyes, and he cursed not listening to her when she reminded him to get his contact lenses ordered, deciding almost immediately that she would always know better than him no matter how high his IQ was or how many doctorates he polished on his shelf. Because she always knew everything when it came to him. 

“Too bright?” She asked, as if she’d wormed her way into his head, though it wasn’t difficult to guess from his squinting, the way his nose scrunched in pain as he nodded. And with no more explanation needed, she drew the sunglasses off her own nose to slide over the top of his specs. Pushing them up gently with the tip of her finger, she giggled as she saw his shaded hues looking down at her through four separate windows, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “Better?” 

“Oh, yeah, much better. I love looking like some kind of weird Spider man with an insanely hot girlfriend,” He said flatly, and she sniggered, her face upside down when she looked up at him, the crown of her head pressing against his chest. 

“I always had a thing for Spider-man,” She said, blinking up at him and Spencer wondered what he ever did to get a girl so pretty she was attractive even upside down and smeared with oily sunscreen, “Don’t know if you’d know this but I have a thing for the tall, genius guys with kind eyes.”

“I didn’t know that,” He said with a wry smile and an adoring gaze, and he couldn’t help but steal a small peck to her lips, knowing he looked a little dumb with his second pair of glasses slipping down his nose. She didn’t seem to care as she kissed him back. She settled back into his chest, picking his book up to flick through what he’d been reading, and she felt him bury his nose into her hair, his hands slipping under her shirt to paw at the free skin of her belly, running his fingertips over it lovingly. 

“Technically if you were some sort of Spider/Man hybrid, you’d need to do a mating dance to woo me away from other suitors,” She said mindlessly, and he chuckled, his headache ebbing away with the sun’s rays deflecting off his face. 

“Yes, and then you’d more than likely eat me afterwards,” He replied, and she moved a hand away from the book to trace an invisible drawing over his forearm, following the grooves of his veins and nerves where they pulsed against his humid skin, her eyes never leaving the pages of the book. 

“Good thing we haven’t mated yet then. I kind of like having you around,” She quipped and she felt him freeze, flicking him a smile so he’d know she was teasing him. Because they hadn’t gone any further than long kisses and soft touches just above the waistline. Hell, seeing her in a bikini was the closest they’d gotten to being naked, and even then she’d covered up with a shirt mere moments after. That little word ‘Yet’ dangled over them, and Spencer found himself smiling back at her, knowing they could take all the time they needed because for now it was just between them. No nosy questions from Garcia and Morgan, no intrigued if not worried glances from Hotch, no knowing smiles from Rossi and Blake. They could just be them. Just Bugsy and Spencer, the way they’d always wanted it to be. 

“Not to mention the fact you’d have to give birth to about two-hundred babies that would eat you alive,” He murmured, and she giggled, squeezing his hand in her own. 

“God, you know just how to talk dirty to me,” She said, and he chuckled, tugging the cap off his head to slide onto her own because he could feel the heat beating down on her face from here, and knew she would forget to re-apply if he didn’t step in. 

Yeah, Spencer was more than happy to have things stay like this for a little while.

[kitasgloves]

Imagine, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, your husband for over a year, sees you relaxing on the couch watching videos on tiktok. He lovingly spies on you until he notices the types of videos popping up on your fyp. It's all filled with laughing babies & children, every video makes you laugh and smile endearingly. But Sakusa's blood went cold.

Oh no

He thinks. This is bad. He might be overreacting but there's no way he's going to let you develop baby fever. Nope, hell no. He's not prepared to have children. So, he orchestrates a plan.

While you were showering, you accidentally left your phone unlocked so Sakusa has access to your tiktok. To his horror, all your liked videos are sickingly cute babies and toddlers. He has to change your fyp. So he searches up the most absurd videos available and taps on every single one of them, hoping it would cleanse your fyp and prevent the baby fever from developing.

You didn't even suspect a thing after you exited the bathroom, your husband is on the bed, eyes buried in a book, overlooking how it's upsidedown. The next time Sakusa spies on you, he's relieved that your fyp isn't filled with cooing babies and children. However, what replaced those videos are thirst traps of people working out in the gym. Sakusa's blood boiled hot, especially when you were secretly liking the videos and even saving them into your bookmarks. The way you bite your lip to fight off a smile made his eye twitch.

Sakusa is aware what jealousy feels like, he thinks it's ridiculous but look at him now succumbing to it. He tries to sneakily change the content on your fyp again but this time your phone is locked. So, he grows distant, unintentionally being less touchy than he usually is. And you notice.

"Omi baby are you mad at me?"

You pout, he doesn't answer as he faces away from you on the bed. You couldn't sleep at night without his arms holding you. As you try to scoot closer and gently grab him, he firmly peels your hands away. You frown, but decided to give him some space. When you stopped persisting, Sakusa grew worried.

He turns around and sees you facing away, cuddling a pillow instead. He suddenly feels terrible. Sakusa quietly goes over to you and kisses your temple before wrapping his arms around you like he always does. Surprisingly, you were awake as you ditched the pillow and hugged him back.

"Sorry for ignoring you darling, I was being childish"

"Aw, it's alright Kiyoomi"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure!"

"Do you...do you want to start a family with me?"

You pull away to give him a bewildered look. You looked genuinely shocked.

"Huh? What?"

"Do...uh...do you want to have a baby with me?"

"Oh! Oh god no! I'm not ready for that responsibility yet, honey"

You smiled brightly and it makes Sakusa relieved. He decides to come clean to what he has done, all you did was laugh and wheeze at him and call him silly.

"You didn't like me getting baby fever?"

"[Name] I don't know how to take care a child"

"And you got jealous when I liked all those gym thirst traps?"

"I don't get the appeal of it. It's just people flexing their muscles while covered in sweat"

"Well, it's kinda hot for me"

Sakusa furrowed his eyebrows and pouts adorably at you.

"If that's what you're into, you could've told me. I wouldn't mind sending you a stupid video after a workout at the gym"

"OH MY GOD YES!"

You squealed. Sakusa scoffs but laughs at you. Since that day, he has made daily videos or "thirst traps" of him at the gym and send them to you. And you'd collect them like rocks and place them in a secret flashdrive for research purposes *wink* *wink*

Bonus: Sakusa asking Atsumu and Bokuto at the gym on how to make a thirst trap for you and he gets a full educational course about it. Day by day his videos get better and you just melt and gush at how fucking hot your husband is.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.

Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.

“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.

“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.

“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”

“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”

Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.

“Maria, what is this?”

“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”

“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.

“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.

“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”

“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.

“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch.  When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.

“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.

“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.

After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.

“Now, the horse you two lost.”

Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.

“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”

“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”

“That’s correct.”

“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”

“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”

“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.

“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.

“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”

“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”

“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.

“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.

“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.

“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.

But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.

His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.

“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”

Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.

“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”

“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”

“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”

“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.

“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”

“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”

“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.

“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”

“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.

“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”

“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”

“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.

“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”

“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”

“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-

“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”

“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.

“It’s no problem, I can-“

“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”

“I really don’t’-“

“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.

The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.

“Shut up.”

“Oh brother, you got it bad.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”

“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”

“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”

Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.

“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”

Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.

“What do you mean?”

“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”

“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.

“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”

“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.

“Tommy.”

“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”

Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.

“They blame her for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”

“We are not talking about this.”

“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”

“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”

It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.

It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.

It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…

But his brother didn’t know anything about that.

Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.

The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.

Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.

A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.

Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.

“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.

What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.

Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.

He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.

“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.

“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“

“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”

You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.

“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”

“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“

“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”

“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.

“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”

“Joel-“

“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”

And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.

It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…

Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.

The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.

Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.

“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.

“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”

Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.

Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.

He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.

And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.

“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you.”

“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”

“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”

“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”

“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.

“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear. 

“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”

Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.

He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.

Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.

He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-

The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.

With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.

He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.

But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.

Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.

He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.

He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.

“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.

The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.

He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.

The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-

He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.

Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.

He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.

Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.

The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.

“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.

“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.

“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”

She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.

“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”

“Of course, anything to be of help.”

“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”

“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”

“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”

“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“

“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”

“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”

“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”

Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.

Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.

Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.

You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.

The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

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[farleighlover]

— “i always want you when i’m coming down.”

| farleigh start x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.1k

a/n: hello loves !!! i am SOOSOOSOSOSO sorry for not uploading in so long, i have been very busy this past month ! so sorry once more. i hope this makes up for it, i wrote the ending literally tonight, so i’m so sorry if it’s sloppy :(. i also did not know if phones in 2006 had voicemails so let’s roll with it and not question anything! anyway idk who ordered a yappuccino

— / part two. (part one here.)

you’re in your english period, sitting where you usually sit. next to farleigh.

when farleigh finally enters at the last second and takes his seat next to you, you move. you can feel the confusion and his gaze on you as you find a seat next to a girl. she immediately lets you sit and holds out her hand for you to shake it. “hi! my name is ava. you’re the girl who farleigh cheated on, right?”

of course people mostly know you for your messed up relationship.

you sigh and smile a little before shaking her hand. “yeah, that’s me.” she nods while smiling. “moving away from farleigh when he just enters is definitely mean. good for you!” she’s energetic, shaking your hand with a firm grip and quick shakes. at least you know she’s confident. you chuckle dryly, “haha, i guess so.” she gives one quick smile before looking away when the professor starts class.

all throughout the class, you can feel farleigh’s stare burning into you. you take a quick glance at him. his expression is unreadable like always, although there’s hints of anger and frustration. you smile at yourself because you got a rise out of him, which you have never done before, shockingly. when class finishes, farleigh moves towards your seat but before he reaches it, you move and leave, leaving him there.

its been almost 2 weeks, another party arrives. farleigh has made no attempt on trying to get you back after that “inconvenience” and you haven’t either.

most times you just stay in and don’t go to the parties, but this time, you finally went. it felt a little freeing, going out yourself, not caring if you get drunk and high, all that sort.

you wore a black mini dress, showing your curves yet not too revealing. you haven’t wore this dress in forever. it felt… somewhat refreshing and relaxing.

you went with ruby, a small duo but you were going to get noticed throughout the party from how popular you were from your relationship. and all this attention led to farleigh staring at you.

he was in a table with felix and his group. you could hear their loud chatter and laughs all during the party, but not a familiar laugh, not farleigh’s laugh. you glanced over and saw farleigh staring directly at you before he quickly looked away. but all throughout the party, you could feel his piercing gaze on you.

ruby spied at farleigh for you. “oh yeah. it’s working.” you set your drink down. “what? it is-?” you almost turn around to look at him before ruby snapped her fingers in your face. “don’t look at him! you’re going to communicate to him with your eyes.” you rolled your eyes. “you can’t get enough of this “eye-talking” thing.” she scoffed. “oh whatever. you know i’m right.”

ruby kept her eyes peeled on farleigh, trying to act like a spy or like those cowboys in those bars who always have a shotgun on them. she picks out every “weird” detail about him, like how he spaces out a little or how it looks like he plays with his hair more than usual, although you know that that’s just how farleigh is.

“and with these problems comes solutions, and i use ‘em, when i’m faded i forget, forget what you mean to me. hope you know what you mean to me.”

“he’s so high. jesuus…” she let out a giggle before trying to bite back a smile. ruby has always had a little crush on farleigh. even though it somewhat weirded you out, you knew multiple people had a crush on farleigh because he was popular. it was just something that happens. “it’s like… his eyes. they’re getting redder and redder. somebody get him a mirror.” as she continued laughing and picking insults at him, not as the “what the fuck is wrong with him”, but as “he’s so cute” kind. you couldn’t help but just blur out everything. partying isn’t fun anymore if it just meant spying on your ex and being around sweaty guys, trying to find an one night stand and failing. it was actually quite pitiful.

“oh my gosh.” ruby gasps, widening her eyes. you try to read her expression and sigh, rubbing your temples when you give up. “what now?”

“he’s flirting with another girl. and it’s serious.”

you clock your head to look at what’s happening, before ruby snaps her fingers in your face. you roll your eyes and groan. “who is it?”

“it’s that… ava girl.”

“ava? no fucking way it could be ava.” you thought. ava was… totally farleigh’s type in pure reality. a short, pretty blonde who’s hyper and flirty, and also known as a whore. she’s the type girl to list men as “hoe 1, hoe 2, and hoe 3” on her phone.

you didn’t expect farleigh to move on that fast, but at the same time, you somewhat did. farleigh has a dull type, letting anybody who caught his eye do whatever.

ruby studied, making disgusted faces and commenting also criticizing every move, before you had enough. “jesus christ, ruby. forget this, i’m going home.” ruby almost spits out her drink, sputtering as she tried to keep you sat down in your chair.

“okay, no. let’s think about this, how can we make farleigh jealous?” ruby thought, actually squinting her eyes and stroking her chin. you sigh and before you’re able to call off this an entire thing, she blurts out her idea. “what about to flirt with another guy? i know, i know. i’m so smart.” she flips her hair as you cringe a little.

the idea finally settles in your brain. “what? flirt with another guy?” ruby nods, slightly amused. you were thinking about how badly this could go. farleigh was always a little “protective” if you will, over things. but at the same time, farleigh was all bark and no bite. and you were drunk.

as you thought, ruby dragged you out of your chair. “c’mon! you can flirt with uhh…” her eyes roam around before it landed on felix. “felix! go flirt with him!” she pushed you a little closer to their booth. “what?!” you were a little startled at the thought. actually, horrified at the thought. what if felix totally rejected you in front of everybody, including farleigh? if that happened, you wouldn’t even know what to do! you would just crumple as you get laughed at and dissolve away. you shook your head. “you’re insane, ruby. i’m not doing that.”

she swatted her hand, trying to swatting your concerns away although it didn’t help. “nonsense, you only live once.” before you can do anything, she give you one final shove and now you’re right in front of everyone. felix, farleigh, god when did it get so hot in here?

you immediately glanced at her, seeing ruby cheer you on, giving you a smile and thumbs up. you scoff and roll your eyes before facing back to felix.

“fi,” you call, having a small grin on your face. it was a name you called felix sometimes which also, made farleigh extremely jealous because he wanted to be the only guy you gave a nickname to.

you gave out your hand to felix. “wanna dance?”

felix peers up and glances at farleigh and ava. as he looks, you also look. you see farleigh rolling his eyes and trying to play it off, but you know deep down he’s jealous.

felix decides farleigh has his girl, so he stands up and gives you a soft smile before taking your hand. “of course,” he brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses your chuckles. you smirk before walking and leading him away, giving farleigh one last glimpse. he looks angry and disrespected, but also hurt and powerless. you look at ruby as she gave you a smile and a cheer.

you led felix to the dance floor. not too far from farleigh so that he could watch every single move. you two did what regular college kids did. dance, flirt, make out a little, just whatever felt right in the moment. it made you feel a little bad for farleigh, but every time you thought of him, it immediately made you think about how he could just cheat on you with not a single regret. so you continued with your plan.

eventually the party died down, and felix said his goodbyes and how he had a fun time with a kiss on the forehead before leaving. after a little, you went to ruby.

“ohhhmagosh, you did amazing! i was so stressed out, but you did sososoososo well! did you see his reaction? he was totally…” ruby spoke a mile a minute. you tried to register her words, but only a few sentences stood out. “—he was looking at you so much, ava stood up and left! it was so funny, you should’ve saw the look on his face. and then he went somewhere… i don’t know, went and sat on a couch, just smoking and… he looked like he was waiting for someone? i don’t know, but he was thinking a lot.”

he was waiting for someone? you knew instantly what farleigh was doing. you and farleigh had this tradition that after everybody left, you two sat on this couch and just… talked. you two always did it after a party. no making out, no sex, no nothing. just talking. nobody ever knew you two did this, not even felix or ruby. it was a secret between you two and you two only.

you felt a pang of guilt. this was farleigh’s way of getting you back. he would never go up to you in front of everybody and ask you back, especially after you danced with felix. his pride would never allow that.

you swatted your hand in the air, sweeping it under the rug even though you still felt bad. “ruby, it’s getting late. we should go to sleep.” ruby nodded before yawning. “yeah okay… good job girl! you stood your ground!” she smiled and gave you a high five. you chuckled, the corners of your lips tugging to a smile.

“thank you, ruby. now let’s go back to the dorms, okay?” she nodded yes. she looked like she was going to pass out. as you two took your leave, you glanced at farleigh, both of you meeting eyes. his expression was unreadable like always, but also somewhat pleading. you felt yourself get a little remorseful, but you played it off by scoffing and looking away.

“(pick up your phone), the party’s finished and i want you to know, (i’m all alone), i’m feeling everything before i got up.”

you don’t know how long farleigh sat on that couch. it was on your mind throughout the night. you ignored text messages of him asking and actually begging you to talk to him, until you heard your phone ringing. you flipped it open, seeing a call from farleigh. ruby told you to just let it ring and go to voicemail, which you did. it wasn’t soon before a voicemail from farleigh appeared on your phone. you took in a breath before listening to it.

“jesus christ… hey. you could at least answer my calls or something.” farleigh sighed and groaned quietly. “listen, i’m sorry okay? is that what you wanted to hear? making me watch you get with felix and everything…” he scoffed and paused for a little before continuing, sighing once more. “baby, i’m sorry.” his voice a little more apologetic and genuine. “you know i love you, i just— forget things when i get high. can we— can we just talk? please? like before? i just… i miss you. please call me back when you get this, i love you.”

you felt yourself feel a little sad at farleigh’s words, but at the same time you knew if you went back to him now, he’ll do the same thing all over. you’ve been trying to get farleigh to quit and every time he fails, no matter what. you have had enough of his bullshit.

throughout the night, you kept receiving more calls from farleigh and in each one was him getting more desperate. he sounded like he was on the brink of tears at some point. you lost count how many he sent awhile ago. eventually, he stopped calling when he realized you weren’t going to accept his apology. on his last voicemail, he muttered,

“i always want you when i’m coming down.”

.. taglist: @fuckshitslover @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @flipsconhelado @nataliesfirefly

[brotherwtf]

a jealous clegan drabble bcs I'm losing my grip on reality

----

The bar is hot and muggy, and Gale feels his eyes droop from the scent of smoke and incense. It was pleasant about an hour ago, but now he's exhausted and sweaty. John's chatter is like white noise to Gale's ears and he just lets the sounds wash over him.

He's working up the courage to ask John to go home when a perky woman sidles up to John's side and starts making conversation. Gale rolls his eyes and situates himself further onto the bar stool. This night just got a whole lot longer.

Gale tries to ignore the way the girl is looking at John, or the way she pushes her arms under he breasts to shove them up further, or that she's licking her lips and flicking her eyes down to John's every third word he says. Gale rolls his eyes and tries not to gag.

She's smiling saccharine sweet when Gale finally tunes into what she's saying.

"Well maybe we could go back to my place, you know, do what we did back in college," She muttered, and god if eyes could strip a man of his clothes, John would be naked.

Gale fumes at the words, clenching his fists against the table of the bar. Who does she think she is? Can she not see him right there, watching his boyfriend get so openly flirted with?

"Hey, John," Gale says and John instantly turns around.

Gale grabs John's jaw and brings him in for an obnoxious kiss, purposefully making a loud noise and spying the appalled look on the girls face.

"I'm getting tired, let's go home," Gale says and John nods quickly, bidding the girl a kind goodbye before taking Gale's hand and leading him outside the bar.

Gale smirks and turns back to the girl, mouthing He's mine and letting John take him back to the car.

There's a tension so thick during the drive home you could cleave it with an axe. Gale crosses his arms and refuses to look at John, and he can tell John is sweating from the lack of attention.

When they get back to their apartment, Gale still doesn't look at John and goes to sit on the couch, making sure to huff loudly when he sits. He spies John from the corner of his eye nervously taking off his shoes and putting up the keys before following Gale into their living room.

"Gale, what's wrong, doll?" John asks, sitting next to Gale on the couch.

Gale does nothing except point at the space between his knees, still not looking at John. John easily slides off of the couch, kneeling between Gale's open legs and looking up at him through brown eyelashes. Gale finally looks down at John and smirks. How easily John bends at his whim, how easily John does what he's told. He brings one of his hands up and caresses John's cheek, running a thumb over the sharp angle of his cheekbones.

"Who was that at the bar, John?" Gale asks and can feel John shakily sigh against his hand.

"Some girl I messed around with in college, didn't even know she lived around here," John mutters.

Gale clicks his tongue, shaking his head and looking down at John with his icy blue eyes.

"Well what would have happened if I wasn't there, huh? Probably would have fucked you right there, god she looked desperate," Gale mutters, hand trailing up to John's hair and tangling his fingers in it gently.

John pants gently, tucking his face against Gale's knee and shaking his head.

"No... no I didn't wan' fuck her," John says and Gale chuckles at the slurred words.

Gale's grip gets tighter on John's hair and relishes in the scrunch of his eyebrows together at the pressure.

"No? Is that so, darling. Well who do you wanna fuck?" Gale asks, voice sweet and smooth like molasses on his tongue.

John whimpers at the words and the pressure in his hair, trying to tuck his face deeper into Gale's thigh.

"You, only you Gale. Only wanna fuck you," John moans, sticking his tongue out to touch the course material of Gale's jeans.

Gale hums in approval, massaging John's scalp and bringing his other hand up to caress his cheek again.

"There's my good boy, all mine, hmm? All mine," Gale says and tugs John's hair until he's back in Gale's lap.

John leans forward and crashes their lips together, and Gale hums, continuing to massage John's hair and sighing into the kiss. John's hands find Gale's waist and lift him from the couch, wrapping his legs around his waist and allowing Gale to deepen the kiss. Gale pulls away panting, and smiles down at John.

"Take me to bed?" Gale asks.

And John moans again on Gale's lips, bringing them to the bedroom and allowing Gale to claim him as his own.

guys how did that happen

[wolven91]

It's the Law

"But it's illegal!" Pointed out the canid, quickly checking over his shoulder, then the other one, ears twitching and nose shuffling.  A canid, even an adolescent like Olio. Max just grinned his mischievous grin. They all but adults and about to leave education behind to pick up jobs themselves, it felt like the end of an era.

Like if they didn't start breaking the rules now, they never would later. A childhood inside the ever-present metal hull of the GC station had been both of their 'worlds' for as long as they could walk. It was pretty hard to commit crimes outside of organised crime on these things thanks to the incredible control that the GC had over these artificial worlds.

"And? You always follow the law?" Asked Max, gently rocking himself in the hammock that had been tied up between two pipes. Olio and he were currently in their 'clubhouse'. What had started as a 'den' of sorts when they were actual kids had turned into a pretty damn good place to go hide when they wanted to be assured, they weren't being spied on.

No security strips could see into their space, but that didn't stop the canid from being paranoid. Max couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for Olio. His biology compelled him, instinctually, to follow instructions and seek authority. To be the authority, or at least it's arm.

"Yes!" The canid replied, worry etched on his features. Max merely reached out and gently held Olio's oversized head before bringing him in to rest his head on top of his stomach. The canid had grown rapidly as of late; he was already so big that they had to raise Max's hammock just so the canid could talk to him without being sat on the ground. It was a bit daunting to climb out on his own, but for the most part Olio just lifted Max in and out of the hammock as and when. 

"Bah. Time to break the law then." Max declared, shrugging happily, gently scratching his nails into the skull of the canid who's eyes rolled back and upwards, his eyelids dropping down.

Max couldn't help but chuckle at the tiny pink tongue tip that appeared at the very end of Olio's muzzle.

"Hnnn... but you can just give me permission?" Olio pointed out, cracking an eyelid, although the eyeball rolled around a moment before focusing on the lounging human. Max merely shook his head.

"No. You're gonna' break the law so you can say you did. Do it, without my permission." Max retorted, "You really want to go to basic without being able to say you've pulled at the lease at least once? You know you can't lie for shit." Max grinned down at the canid.

He wasn't going away forever, Christ, he was going to be coming home every night except when mandated to stay in the barracks. But the other canids were likely able to say they stole something, or smoked or drank something they weren't allowed to.

How many canids could say that they had gotten close enough to a human to touch them, without the guardian pulling their arm off?

Olio stood up, blinking away the dopamine of scratches and shook himself, the great canid mane ruffling in the enclosed space. Max always loved how it looked like a rockstar's hairdo. Olio would love metal music if Max could ever get his hands on some.

"Alright. I'm not asking permission." Declared Olio, Max raising a single eyebrow in response, but said nothing.

A giant clawed hand rose up and approached Max's head. It hovered for a moment, before the leather pads made contact with Max's head. They stood there, frozen for a moment before Olio found the confidence to curl his fingers slightly and scratch at Max's scalp.

The human had expected it to be clumsy and painful, even by accident, but Olio's care meant that he was purely focused on actually petting Max. Eventually, the canid's hand started to gently stroke Max's hair, going with the grain before the leather pads brushed down the side of his face, touching the beginnings of a scraggly beard, grown only by the pubescent.

Max had his eyes closed before flinching as a leather thumb pad stroked along his eyebrows.

"The hell?"

"I'm stroking your fur."

"Not my eyebrows you dork."

"It's fur, isn't it?"

"No!"

"What do you mean no?!"

[bright-side20]

Azriel /Shadowsinger;Starborn

I wanted to write about why I believe Az has a secret starborn lineage ever since Hofas was released, so here it is:

Acomaf : “Like the daemati,” Rhys said to me, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.”

Rhys compared Daemati to the shadowsingers because they're both rare.

Hofas: My story begins before I was born." The female's voice was heavy-weary. Tired and sad. "During a time I know of only from my mother's stories, my father's memories." She lifted a finger to the space between her brows. "Both of them showed me once, mind-to-mind. So I shall show you."

Thea and Fionn were Daemati, so it's a power of the Dusk Court people.

Hosab: Night haired Helena, from whose golden skin poured starlight and shadows Hofas : My mother eventually trusted only Helena and myself to seek the truth. She knew we could be of great use to her, because we bore the shadows as well as starlight. We spent a month hidden in the enemy's stronghold, no more than shadows ourselves. By the time we returned to our mother, we'd learned the truth.

Helena and Silene both possessed the power of shadows, they worked as spies because of it. Light and shadows are the power of the Dusk.

Conclusion :Both Daemati and Shadowsingers are Dusk Court people's powers, and they are rare in Prythian because most of them left for Midgard.

Acofas: Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from. They certainly weren’t connected to the Siphons, to the raw killing power most Illyrians possessed and channeled through the stones to keep from destroying everything in its path. Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. A rare visit from the shadowsinger. Both myth and terror. Az looked just as displeased to be here, but he’d come when I asked.

The Illyrians have absolutely no idea where Azriel's power came from. It's not related to their own magic, and he's even somewhat of a myth to them. I think if his power came from a special Illyrian lineage like Enalius, they would know, given their attachment to their culture and history.

*Shadows nature and abilities :

I'll start with Bryce comparing Azriel's shadows to Cormac's shadows:

Hofas:

Azriel, without Rhysand to translate, watched in silence. Bryce could have sworn shadows wreathed him, like Ruhn's, yet... wilder. The way Cormac's had been.

And then Az admitting that it's a magical power:

The shadows are made of magic, just very condensed.

Hosab,Cormac :

“You can teleport,” Bryce said, voice low..... Well, that explained how he’d shown up at Ruhn’s house party.... Once he’d had them, he’d simply walked right out of a shadow in the doorway.

“Where did you inherit the ability from?” Cormac squared his shoulders, every inch the proud prince as he said, “It was once a gift of the Starborn."

And then back to Hosab, Cormac says that his ability to winnow is because he's Starborn. We also know that Azriel can winnow through shadows, which could be attributed to his secret Fae lineage.

_Also There are similarities between Cormac's father, the twins' power, and Az's power :

Hofas: Shadows whispered over Morven's broad shoulders, trailing off his scaled armor. "He was a defiant boy. I thought I'd beaten it out of him long ago." Acomaf: It was an effort not to stare at Azriel as he watched them head up the steep street, arm in arm and bickering with every step. The shadows gathered around his shoulders, like they were indeed whispering to him, shielding him, perhaps.

The shadows talk to Morven just like they talk to Azriel.

Hofas: The twins opted to live. A shield of shadows slammed against the reaching spears of lightning. It was all Bryce needed to see before she burst into motion.

Acowar : “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Perhaps those shadows that now slid and eddied around the shadowsinger hid him from the wrath of the binding magic. The others made no move to interfere, as if wondering the same.

The Twins' shadows were able to shield them from Hunt's Lightning just like the shadows shielded Azriel in the High Lords meeting, and nobody understood how it was possible.

*Last but not least :

About the troves :

Nesta stiffened. “If they’re all enchanting you to forget, how is it that Azriel was able to remember and bear the information here?” “Perhaps once you learn of it, recognize it, the spell is broken,” Amren said

Azriel was the one who brought the information about the troves . I think it could simply be because he's Starborn, so he has the ability to still remember them.

And of course, the last thing is him being able to wield the Starsword:

The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand.He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then-a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword.

After Hunt's daddies issues, I know that she could make Az somehow special, Illyrian-made, but I think this makes more sense and is more interesting: we know that his father is an Illyrian lord, but we don't know anything about his mother. Perhaps she could be a half-breed, he would still look like a full Illyrian but with a special power from his Fae lineage.

[theresattrpgforthat]

games to play with my long distance partner? we’re queer nerds, i have a lot of dnd experience and some not dnd experience, they have a little bit of dnd experience, we both have fucked up schedules so something that’s asynchronous or short would be best. uh. there’s two of us. yeah i think that’s everything.

THEME: Long-Distance Games.

Hello friend, I am excited to introduce to you the joys of epistolary games!

From the Petals to the Leaves, by somewhere with stories.

This is a two player game about writing to a loved one while you are apart.  Throughout the game you will write to each other while in different gardens, surrounded by plants and flowers of your choice. 

This looks to be a pretty small game, but I think it fits the mood of writing to a loved one, with a concrete topic to base your conversations around - the plants in your gardens. I don’t own this game but I own a similar one by the same creator, so I’m assuming that the game provides you with a prompt list for each letter you send each-other. You can create your characters slowly as you write, uncovering bits and pieces about each-other through your fictional personas. If you just want something a little extra to flavour your letters to each-other, this might be worth looking at.

Soulum Scriptum, by Radmad.

Featuring the art of Marisa Bruno, Soulum Scriptum is a letter writing game for two or more players. You are isolated and alone, until a mysterious courier arrives at your door. They give you a proposition: write letters for someone just like you and they will bring you letters in return.

Develop the broken world and the haven that protects you, all while fighting despair and taking what hope you can find in your new connection across time and space. 

This is a game of connection, between two isolated individuals who are struggling with despair. There are pages for various steps of the game, from world and character creation, to how to manage your feelings after your first letter. There’s also instructions for what to do when you fill certain tracks, including the track for your Haven (your home) and your Hopes (lines and pieces of the letters you receive that give you hope). If you like emotional games that have great potential to tell a story that grows brighter as you play, I recommend Soulum Scriptum.

Talking Thunder, by Eleanor Hingley.

‘Talking Thunder’ is a two-player correspondence RPG about finding connection in a dystopian world. 

As the world changes, you never know what news each letter from your only friend will bring…

If you even hear from them again.

Another game about connection, this time in a post-apocalypse of some kind. I’m curious about how the letters are meant to reach each-other in the fiction of this game, although I suspect that ultimately that is up to the two of you!

We Are Ciphers, by Jgurantz.

We Are Ciphers is a 2-player letter-writing game where you craft a story using coded messages sent through the mail.  You and your partner both covet the Prize, which you believe will transform your lives for the better. But acquiring it is an extremely tricky operation. Many things stand in your way, including the Target. 

This is a letter-writing game with an added layer of complexity, because both of you could be writing in code! The code part is optional, but the premise of the game is that you are two spies trying to get your hands on the Prize - whatever you two decide that may be. The game comes with a list of popular media for inspiration, as well as a series of checkboxes for you to tick off to help you create a game that would be fun for the two of you. There’s also a number of worksheets to help you build your world, craft your codes, and create your characters. If you would like a fair amount of guidance as to how to play the game, We Are Ciphers might be up your alley.

The Wanderers, by AdventureByMail.

You and your friend wait to board two ARK-4 Civilian Class Shuttles charted for new colonies in the hinterlands of space. Though you will be several light-years apart, you promise to keep in touch through the interstellar communication network known as the Unified Starways Parley System. You'll use this network to tell each other about the life you build and the love you discover in the far reaches of space…

This creator makes a number of games designed for long-distance play, so if you like The Wanderers, you might want to check out some of their other work as well! The game itself is small enough to fit on a brochure, so it should be easy to print out and keep somewhere for easy reference. There are roll tables to help you create a character, and some advice on how to write your first letter. Following letters will be provided prompts based on a deck of playing cards, with special rules for drawing Aces. If you like using a bit of randomization to help drive a story, this game might be for you!

Games I've Recommended in the Past

I've played The Reaper's Almanac with a friend before and I really really love the premise of it. It has a chance to dive into some pretty traumatic material, however, as it is about death, so make sure to talk about your partner about the things you'd like to steer clear of if you play this game.

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Yi Joo might fight and deny it all she wants, but she is attracted to Do Guk, not only because he is insanely hot, but because he keeps throwing her off her axis and turning her world upside down. She gets to experience so many things for the first time with him - like being welcomed home when she arrives and with a smile to boot, as opposed to being ignored or abused. He probably doesn't even realize because it's something mundane to him, but it's rare and special to her.

The way he knows she would be starving herself until late night and decides to become her personal chef and food taster, to elevate her fears, without putting any pressure or expectations on her to accept. It's such a purely unselfish act, pouring out so much effort and heart into making her feels safe.

There is no doubt now, Seo Do Guk has declared war on Yi Joo's family, naming himself as her general/prince/knight in a shining armour. The first surprise attack - check, now it's time to shore their defences... HE GIVES UP HIS OWN HOUSE AND TURNS IT INTO HER SANCTUARY WHERE SHE CAN ESCAPE AND HIDE FROM HER FAMILY AND ALL HER ENEMIES,...

...and he turns into a giddy puppy when he gives her a tour of the house, I thought I died when he opened the kitchen cupboards he filled with enough packed food to feed a small army. (I mean, if Napoleon had Seo Do Guk, Russians would be speaking French now.)

More like showing her their newlywed den and waiting for her approval. Also, he is such a shamelessly and irresistibly adorable flirt, Yi Joo stands no chance against this charming devil.

However, then he takes her to her room and my soul has left my body, because it's the complete opposite of her room (and even her room from the future). Also, it's definitely NOT following the latest trend since it's everything but monochrome and minimalistic. It's basically a suite with its own bathroom, huge windows, a closet full of furniture and clothes he handpicked for her himself (he literally handpicked everything in the room with her in mind, eager to give her everything she was cheated of) - he has created a safe space for her, a place she can call her own without being spied or intruded on or abused; it's huge, full of colour, and things she loves: an easel, canvas and paints.

Remember how in episode 1, the rich housewives were shocked Yi Joo painted, since her mother had gone out of her way to keep it a secret, but Do Guk is somehow aware of it; another reason he knows more about her than he lets on.

He is no subtle whatsoever at trying to convince her she doesn't need to leave the place ever again, because he will make sure she doesn't lack anything and will give her the moon if she asks for it. Also, when Do Guk says "everything you need is here" and he is standing in the middle of the room so vulnerable, insecure and shy, you just know HE is everything she needs but hasn't realized it yet.

[peak-dumbass]

I felt like ranting about TFP/RiD2015 starscream’s character since I feel like a lot of people mischaracterize him, but this turned out to be much longer than I thought it would sooooo click if you wanna see my essay about the most disloyal second-in-command ever :]

So when talking about tfp starscream I hear a lot of his fans mention how bad the show was for not addressing megatron’s abuse of him and for not giving him a redemption arc where he recovers from it and becomes a better person or something along those lines

I don’t want to seem rude, but where the fuck did you guys get the impression that the show was ever going to do something like that?? Or even that starscream was ever going to be viewed in a remotely sympathetic light??? Cuz it definitely wasn’t from the show I can tell you that much

Now I’m not denying that starscream was abused, I do agree with that — but did you guys forget the context of why Megatron feels the need to punish him so brutally? Cuz every single time he does so it’s cuz starscream is trying to take his place as leader of the decepticons and, more often than not, trying to kill him in the process — like did yall forget that one of the first things starscream did in the show was plan to leave megatron to die in space after taking the only thing keeping him alive from his chest and the only reason he didn’t was because he was being spied on by soundwave?

I’m not stating that to say “megatron was right to abuse starscream”, hell no, but I’m stating that to say there was a reason for it in-show and it wasn’t to show that starscream deserves sympathy but to show how ruthless megatron is, especially to people that cross him like starscream

The whole “redemption arc” idea that some people like to cling to is what confuses me the most because are we talking about the same character here?? Are we looking at the same guy because so matter how you look at starscream, he was never meant to be redeemed

This is the same character that, throughout the entire show, is the only one to have killed an autobot on screen — and he did this in his first scene in the first episode — and actively brags about it on several occasions afterwards throughout the show

This is the same character that, when the autobots gave him one chance to see if he could be seen as an ally, couldn’t help himself from mentioning his murdering of cliffjumper to arcee — cliffjumper’s partner — and then using her anger and grief as way to escape, effectively making it impossible that the autobots would ever truly trust him again

This is the same character that, even after leaving the decepticons, can’t help himself from trying to murder megatron (to take his place, not as revenge for his abuse) and getting in the autobots way of stopping the decepticons

The fact that starscream’s seemingly favorite pastime in the show is Attempted Murder so he can become a Worse Dictator is something I think his fans gloss over much too easily — especially since they’re typically the same people that hate megatron for abusing him because starscream *checks notes* keeps attempting to murder him

The only reason why megatron keeps starscream around is because he’s more useful to him alive and working under him than either dead or working against him — and considering how many times starscream has attempted to murder him and has actively ruined his plans, I’m surprised he hasn’t killed him already

Even after all of that happens and starscream finally says “fine, I won’t attempt to kill megatron anymore” in season 3, he’s still ruining his plans with his pettiness and jealousy towards others like shockwave —

no matter what happens to starscream, he refuses to grow and change

— which is why I can’t understand where this “I can fix him cuz the writers refused to” mentality came from

He was never meant to be “fix”-able, at best he was meant to be a doomed character, a cautionary tale and/or a tragic villain — because no matter what happens, he keeps ruining things for himself and refuses to accept that, putting the blame for his failures and feelings of inadequacy on others like megatron or optimus when, in reality, it’s always him who is reason why he can’t be happy

And this carries over into Robots In Disguise 2015 as well, when he returns to be the villain of season 3 (or 2.5, it’s complicated)

He returns to earth so he can find all of the 7 weaponizer mini-cons and link them to himself to become all powerful so he can kill megatron and conquer the galaxy

I’ve seen some people say that “the writers had to add on the ‘conquer the galaxy’ part to starscream’s plan because then it would be hard to justify why the heroes would want to stop a victim of abuse from killing his abuser” and just —tell me you don’t understand starscream’s character without telling me you don’t understand starscream’s character

My Sibling in Primus, starscream has been wanting to do that since the beginning of Transformers: Prime, that’s literally his main reason for constantly wanting to kill megatron all the time — so he can take his place as leader of the decepticons, defeat the autobots, and then become the ruler of Cybertron

While I do agree that starscream wanting megatron dead for all of the pain he caused him is definitely part of his motive here, this type of revenge is never going to shown as a good thing, nor should it

Even after its been several years since megatron left the decepticons after being used by unicron, even after all of cybertron seems to have moved on from the war, starscream can’t let his obsession with killing megatron go — and that isn’t a good thing

Bumblebee confirms that starscream has been assumed dead this entire time, meaning nobody was chasing or hunting him down, nobody was trying to turn him over to the new cybertronian government for his crimes — he could’ve used this as a way to escape it all and finally start anew, find other ways to make himself better and happier after having to deal with megatron looming over him for so long

But he didn’t

He stumbled upon an old megatron plan for gaining power and couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t let it go, he refused to break the cycle and he has no one to blame for continuing it but himself

When he finds the Dark Star Saber and uses it, the sword resists him, with him saying that it’s because the sword doesn’t find him worthy enough to weld it since it can tell he isn’t megatron, but he tries to weld it anyways

I’ve seen one person try to interpret this as a way to say that “this means he isn’t evil since the sword that was made for evil is rejecting him” which is the dumbest take ever, but here’s my interpretation of what the Dark Star Saber’s rejection means

Ever since his first appearance on screen, starscream has been trying to be the leader of the decepticons, the most powerful, the most feared, the most respected — he wants to be megatron so bad it’s painful — and everything that happens to him is telling him that he isn’t

But he refuses to accept that — of course he doesn’t, he’s starscream, megatron’s most disloyal second-in-command — and that’s all he’ll ever amount to as long as he walks his road of selfishness, anger, and revenge

And that’s what he does until he’s defeated again by Bumblebee and his team, because if there’s one thing that remains constant for starscream that isn’t his favorite hobby of Attempted Murder it’s his refusal to grow and change as a person