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tpwk-formula1 · 2 days

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Lando Norris, Thin Crust, Red Sauce,Pineapple, BBQ Chicken , Vodka redbull, Sparkling Water, Coke, Yes

With a plus-size reader, if you can. I fear there's not many plus-size fics out there with lando. If you could please and thank you. 🧙‍♀️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" bbq chicken “Gonna let me cum in you? I know you wanna have my baby” vodka redbull squirting sparkling water spitting coke spanking dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Plus size Fewtrell! reader

TW unprotected sex, squirting, spanking, creampie, rough Lando, talks of insecurities

WC 1600+

Y/N POV

"Love, I'm not feeling the best. I think I'm gonna stay in for the day," I tell Lando softly while he was talking to my brother about the plans for today.

"You were okay this morning, what's going on? What are you feeling?" Lando asks clearly getting worried.

"It's nothing major just think I ate the wrong thing this morning," I tell him softly not wanting the whole house to hear the conversation.

"Do you need us to get you anything?" Max asked clearly being worried. I just shake my head no before turning on my foot and heading towards Lando and I's room that we have been sharing while here on Holiday for summer break.

"Hey love, what's really going on? I can see this perplexed look on your face clearly showing me that you're overthinking something," Lando asks me after he had followed me into our room.

"No I promise I'm just having tummy issues," I continue to uphold the lie. Said lie falling from my lips far easier than it should, but I was used to faking illness to get out of something.

"Love, drop the act," Lando says softly making me groan at being caught.

"Lando, I- um- I'm just a little worried about the hike to the clay. I'm not sure I'll be able to do it as fast as the rest of you guys. Don't wanna hold you back," I tell Lando softly making his face drop in realization.

"Baby, no one cares if we have to take it slow," Lando tells me making me groan and shake my head.

"You don't get it love, you're an athlete surrounded by other athletes, your 'take it slow' is basically my sprinting," I tell him softly trying to hold back tears.

"i'm sorry. Maybe I'm not the best fit person for your lifestyle," I add softly watching Lando's face snap up and turn into a dark expression.

"Hey Max I think I'm gonna stay back with Y/N and take care of her," Lando walks to the bedroom door where he opens it and shouts to my brother.

"Okay! Maybe we can go again tomorrow if Y/N is up for it," Max shouts back before Lando is closing the door and striding towards me.

"Do not turn this into our breakup. As a couple it is our job to figure out how to make our lifestyles mesh. I don't give a fuck if you're not some Olympic athlete, I don't care if a one mile walk took us 100 years to complete, that's 100 years spent with the love of my life, so I'll be fucking damned if you think you're not 'good enough' to be with me," Lando stays while striding closer to me.

"Lan, I just think you might be happier with someone who can keep up with you and your friends," I tell him softly. I wasn't trying to argue and I sure as hell don't want to break up but it's a tough conversation we need to have.

"I've grown up with you and Max our entire life, I'm used to walking in the back with you, not because I was that slow but because even at 12 I genuinely liked you and any time I could spend with you I would," Lando tells me making me think back to when we were younger and he really would walk in the back of the pack with me always the last two to arrive. Even having Lando defend me a few times against my brother and his teasing words.

"I'm sorry I've just really been in my head a lot lately," I tell him softly making him hum and pull me into his arms.

"I know I could tell, but I thought it was cause you were stressed with work not because you had been stressing about our relationship," Lando tells me softly before placing a kiss on my forehead.

"I'm sorry for not talking to you sooner. I was just embarrassed," I admit making Lando scoff.

"I'm embarrassed that my own girlfriend was too worried to talk to me about what was bothering her pretty little mind," Lando tells me while kissing my forehead and leading us to the bed where we climb into it and throw on a random movie to watch.

Midway through the second movie Lando leans down and places a kiss on my lips and climbs into my lap.

"Lando, right now?" I questioned in a hushed tone as if anyone was still home.

"No one is here, and I need to show you who you belong to," Lando tells me while starting to pull his shirt over his head leaving me to start at his tanned chest.

Once Lando had discarded his shirt somewhere in the room he made quick work of pulling off my shirt leaving us both completely bare from the waist up.

"Fuck, love these tits so much," Lando mumbled before leaning down and sucking one of my nipples into his mouth.

"Oh, Lan," I moan softly while arching my back bringing my tits even closer to his face.

Lando pulls away and roughly flips me onto my stomach where he pulls me up by the hips so I was presenting myself to him. I was only wearing a flimsy pair of sleep shorts I had thrown on a little bit ago to get more comfortable. Lando just yanks them down my legs and lets the pool at my knees where he starts slapping my ass.

"Ow, what is that for," I whine when I feel the continued spanking.

"You need to realize how fucking beautiful you are. I'm not gonna let you walk around thinking you're anything less than perfect. So everytime you sit down for the next day, you will be reminded," lando explains with a cocky smirk.

Once Lando had reddened my ass to his liking hi quickly yanks his briefs down before roughly burying his cock into my pussy and giving me no time to adjust before he is roughly thrusting into my sopping wet pussy.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock," Lando groans while still keeping the brutal pace.

"So good, Lan," I whine burying my face into the pillow to try and muffle my moans but lando roughly grips on my hair and pulls me face up.

"I wanna hear your screams," Lando tells me while thrusting harder and faster to try and pull the loudest noises from me.

"Fuck," I scream out when Lando continuously hits my G-spot only bringing me closer to cumming.

"Cum for me," Lando groans when he feels my pussy clenching around his cock in anticipation.

I let go almost instantly cumming all over Lando's cock and squirting all over the bedspread.

"Fuck such a messy girl," Lando groans while helping me ride out my orgasm before he picks up the pace again.

"God, I love when you get like this," Lando groans.

Lando pulls out suddenly before he flips me over onto my back and roughly starts fucking me in missionary.

"Fuck Lando," I scream at the new angle not fully prepared for the way I was feeling Lando.

In the midst of my loud moans, I feel Lando lean down over my face before roughly spitting in my mouth. Most of it went straight down my throat but some of it sprayed my face making me whimper slightly.

"Fuck, I love seeing your tears, the way you take my cock, opening your mouth like a good slut to take my spit, fuck you were made for me," Lando groans before starting to place with my sensitive clit again.

"You're gonna cum with me this time," Lando groans while speeding up his actions making me feel the build-up of my orgasm again.

"I'm gonna cum," I warn Lando knowing I wasn't gonna be able to hold back much longer reaching the point of no return far quicker than I would have liked.

“Gonna let me cum in you? I know you wanna have my baby,” Lando groans out.

"Yes, fill me up Lando, wanna have your baby," I beg desperate to cum again.

"Cum with me," Lando groans before his hips started to falter from their rough thrusting before I feel his cum start to paint my walls making me cry out in another squirting orgasm.

"Fuck," I scream as I feel my squirt spray all over Lando and I making a proper mess out of our bedding.

When Lando and I finally come down from the highs of our pleasure Lando is softly pulling out of my pussy before watching his cum leak from my gaping pussy with a smirk on his face.

"God, I love making you mine," Lando groans before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"So good," I mumble out before turning into Lando's chest for comfort.

"Did so well, gonna have to clean this up before everyone gets home," Lando tells me with a smirk on his face making me groan in embarrassment.

Lando quickly got out of bed before turning the bath on where he let it fill up before coming to get me and he gently placed me in the bath before going into the room again to clean up the bedding so we had fresh sheets for when everyone arrived back.

After about 10 minutes Lando climbs into the bath me, letting my beck rest against his chest.

"I cleaned up all the evidence of how messy you get for me," Lando tells me with a smirk clearly laced in his voice. I just groan and try to hide my face in his neck while he just laughs.

"On a real note though, next time you feel like that promise me you'll talk to me," Lando tells me softly making me turn my head to face him.

"I promise," I tell him softly before leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips.

"i love you," I tell him softly making him smile before he tells me he loves me too.

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warping-realities · 23 hours

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A Night in the Devil's Den - Part I

“I still think we should hit up somewhere else, Jamie. There are tons of bars that would look the other way and let us grab a few drinks.” One of the three young men passing through New York during college break said as they made their way to the old building housing the Devil’s Den, apparently the most hyped club in the city, which had a strict policy of keeping anyone under 21 out.

“Stop being such a fag, Fred! We’re gonna get in, trust me, man of little faith.” Jamie, the group leader with light brown hair, same color as Mark, shot back. Fred, on the other hand, was blond, and more sensitive, which didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own when it came to arguing; on the contrary, the debate skills of the former debate team captain were legendary.

“Chill, Fred. The worst that can happen is the bouncer looks at the IDs that Jamie’s buddy hooked us up with and realizes we don’t have the right age and kicks us out. But I doubt that’ll happen; in a few months, we’ll all be 21.” Mark commented, always the peacemaker.

“Another reason to wait until we’re actually of age. I don’t want any trouble, guys.” Fred tried to argue again.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here to chicken out, man. If you wanna bail, I’m cool, but think about all the work I put into getting these IDs. And I didn’t even charge you guys!” Jamie grumbled.

“That’s just because your buddy did it for free, asshole. Who the hell is he, anyway?” Mark jumped in before things got heated between the two.

“Some dude I met at the hostel; he’s the one who told me about this place. Apparently, this is the spot for anyone looking for a good time.”

“You mean you trusted someone you barely know? Doesn’t that seem kinda sketchy to you?” Fred asked, outraged, totally shooting down Mark’s efforts.

“I’m sick of your attitude, man! If you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just head back to the hostel?”

“Hey, hey, chill out, you two! We’re here to have a good time! Fred, let’s check out the place, and if we don’t like it or they kick us out, we’ll head back to the hostel, and I promise I’ll be your wingman with those hot Italian chicks who showed up yesterday, alright? And Jamie, you dumbass, he’s not entirely wrong; it was pretty stupid to trust a stranger, but it’s done now, so let’s just try to have fun, please?” Mark chimed in again.

“Fine, but you know that your parents would kill us if anything goes south, Mark.” Warne Fred, whose parents had already passed away, and, in Jamie’s opinion, was the last one who should be worried instead of acting like a little pussy. Not that he’d say that, at least not now that his buddy finally decided to man up.

“Finally acting like a man, Fred, and not like a little bitch!”

“Hey, man, that’s enough!”

“Chill out, Mark; you’re starting to sound like your dad. Sorry, Fredster, I just want an unforgettable night with my best buds.” Jamie said, hugging Fred on one side to encourage him while Mark did the same on the other.

As they approached the ridiculously long entrance line, Jamie commented.

“Since we’re talking about those hot Italian girls, it’s funny that if we were in most other countries, we wouldn’t even need to convince Fred here; we’d all be of age to drink until we drop without a care in the world.”

“I don’t think your dad would be too happy about hauling his kid from the gutter.” Mark remarked.

“He’s not as strict as your dad, man, but yeah… maybe it’s best not to push it. Damn, look at this line! No way I’m waiting all this crap! Oh, wait, I just remembered something; follow me!” Jamie said, signaling for his friends to follow him to the front of the line, where a huge black guy, looking like a muscle mountain, was running the door, checking IDs and occasionally greeting a buddy with a half-smile in his otherwise stern face. He saw the guys approaching and crossed his arms, giving them a menacing smirking look.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?”

“Good evening, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and, said… said that he hopes you have a… a hell of a night.” Jamie said, sounding unsure for the first time.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” Mark replied, handing over the fake IDs, which the guy scrutinized for a few seconds.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed someone before handing the IDs back to the guys and cracking a smile. “Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

As they stepped into the spacious lobby, the guys were hit with the sounds of music and excited screams, along with flashing lights. And the most impressive thing of all was a guy with olive skin, well-groomed beard and black hair, and a distinctive aquiline nose that hinted at some mediterranean ir middle eastern heritage. But what really stood out about the guy was his stunning build, partially covered by a sharp suit and shiny black pants, with his muscular torso on display for anyone who wanted to see, staring at them with disconcerting eyes and a mischievous grin that made the three feel like they were really inside the Devil’s Den.

“Dude, they really know how to set a mood.” Jamie remarked, eyeing the imposing figure. “Alright, first drinks, then we hit the dance floor for the hot chicks!”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom; my bladder’s about to explode!” Fred said.

“Then it’s a wonder you didn’t piss yourself from fear before we even got in.”

“Go fuck yourself, Jamie!” he shot back, irritated, as he blended into the crowd on the dance floor.

“You really can’t pass up a chance to be an idiot, can you?” Mark commented, following his other friend through the crowd. “Let me talk to him; you do something useful and grab the drinks. You know a few shots will loosen him up.”

“It’s not my fault he needs booze to stop being a little bitch.” Jamie yelled to be heard over the noise, turning heads with expressions of disbelief toward him, but he was too hyped about the night’s promises to notice, heading for the nearest bar, closely followed by the sinister figure from the entrance. It wasn’t until he reached the bar that he noticed the company.

“Hello, James.” The man said over the cacophony, though his voice didn’t need to rise for Jamie to hear him.

“How do you know my name?” Jamie shouted back.

“Jerome gave me a heads-up about your arrival; I’m Mr. Shay the manager of this place. And I know you shouldn’t be here tonight, kid.”

“Damn… then why didn’t you stop us at the door?”

“Because I understand the need for a young man to rebel. Especially when his dad is such a major buzzkill.” The man said with bright eyes.

“I… he just wants what’s best for me… a decent job for a real man and… and sometimes it’s a drag.” Jamie replied in a whisper, not realizing the man knew way more about him than he should.

“Oh, I get it, kid, and just when you finally have a chance to chill, your friends leave you hanging.”

“Pussies!” The kid grumbled, not seeing the man’s eyes flash dangerously.

“You seem to have a problem with gay people. What’s that about?”

“I don’t have a problem with gays; I have issues with little faggots, those sissy boys who take it up the ass like they’re chicks. My dad raised me to be a real man.”

“But it’s tough living under the weight of other people’s expectations, under the rigid standards taught by someone, isn’t it? Sometimes all you wanna do is chill out, let loose, and be happy, right? And have your friends be able to enjoy that with you.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s settled! Poncho, a shot of tequila for my buddy here.” The man said as the spell seemed to break while he glided through the crowd with ease, almost floating, and for an instant if one looked closely one would catch a glimpse of his true form.

Still a bit dazed, Jamie turned to the bar and bumped into a Latino guy in his late thirties, with a chiseled, muscular chest completely exposed except for a bow tie around his neck, sipping a drink while the shot of tequila the other guy ordered was held in his hand.

“On the house.” The guy said with a smile. Without thinking twice, Jamie downed the shot.

“Nice one, hermano.” The man commented, grinning.

“Gracias, tio.” Jamie replied, smiling as he left the bar with a dreamy look.

There was definitely something extra in that tequila, Jamie’s rational side thought, a side that seemed to shrink more every minute. He wandered aimlessly through the crowd, seeing colors and smelling scents he’d never experienced before, while that rational side tried in vain to shout inside his head, drowned out by an overwhelming numbness.

“Mierda, que guapo…” he murmured in Spanish, watching a muscular guy dancing shirtless. Without even stopping to think how out of character that was for him.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, with an unspeakable desire taking hold of him, making him vibrate and tremble inside he made his way toward the guy, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, Javier, the latino 21 years old man, approached the older man.

“Hey, papi, want some company?” He asked with a vacant look and dreamy voice that the other guy didn’t seem to notice, and in a few seconds, they were both dancing to the rhythm of the music.

“So, kid, where you from?”

“Right here, raised in El Barrio.” Javier answered.

“But where did your family come from?”

“My grandparents came with my dad and my uncles from Colombia in the early 90s. Maybe you know my uncle. He works as a bartender here; they call him Poncho, even though he’s not Mexican, but he says he doesn’t care.”

“Oh, so that’s why a kid like you is in here.” The man commented.

“I’ll show you who’s the kid.” Javier replied, kissing the man, who returned the kiss with passion.

Neither of them seemed to notice that the kid’s shirt seemed to evaporate in the air or the inches he gained in height or the facial hair sprouting on his face. After a long moment of pleasure, the two pulled away.

“So, papi, am I man enough for you?” Javi asked with a grin, while the other guy stared at him, breathless.

“Now I gotta bounce; my shift’s about to start!” Javi said, walking with a smile toward the bar. His muscles growing and expanding into an athletic, well-proportioned physique, with just the bow tie of his uniform to cover up.

“Hey, you didn’t even tell me your name, boy!”

“If you want to find me, just head to the bar. And don’t call me boy; do I look like a kid to you?” He replied, flexing his muscles. Only a man could call him that, and that certainly wasn’t this one.

When he got to the bar, his uncle greeted him with a smile but also with a warning.

“If your dad finds out about this…”

“What my dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, tio. Plus, next year I’ll be graduating, and the boss is gonna put me to work in accounting, although I think I’ll still take a few shifts with you just for fun.”

“Javi, you really don’t get it, do you? If not your dad, then because of that musclehead you’re seeing.”

“It’s his fault for not showing up yet. And right when the main attraction’s about to start.” He said, looking at the club’s stage lighting up. “Though to him no attraction compares to my ass.” He concluded with a grin.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #straight to gay #musclegrowth #race change

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veritasangel · 20 hours

Text

Jealous hearts

⋆ ˚｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none {wc: 744}

↣ i don't know why this popped in my head, but it did

Dabi and you entered your apartment, full from dinner at the Todoroki's and the warmth of the evening still lingering in the air. The dinner had been full of laughter and stories with lots of playful banter between you and his family.

You valued the moments spent with them, especially being on good terms with Shoto, your best friend, even after you started dating Dabi.

Dabi followed you in, making sure to loudly shut the door behind himself and you knew something was off right away. He stood there, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, a frown deep on his face.

“Did you enjoy tonight?" you asked, trying to sound light, as you hung up your coat.

“Yeah, sure," Dabi said, his voice perfectly flat. He didn't move from the door and there was an irritated scowl on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, knowing a storm was brewing underneath. "You don't sound very convinced. “What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped, the irritation in his voice conveying volumes. You took another step closer, wanting him to open up.

"C'mon, Dabi; I can tell when something's bothering you. Is it about dinner?”

He let out a frustrated sigh. "It's just annoying how you and Shoto are so… cosy with each other," he finally admitted, his jaw tightening. "You two were practically glued at the hip tonight."

Your heart sank a little. You'd been expecting this talk honestly. "We're just friends, Dabi. You know that."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't look that way when you're laughing at all his stupid jokes," he snapped, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Dabi, we were only messing around- You know he's my best friend," you managed to keep your voice level. "You seriously can't expect me to drop him now that you and I are together."

He shrugged, though the scowl stayed on his face. "It just feels like when he's around, I'll always be second place, backup brother or something.

"No, don't say that! You're not second place to anyone, you're my boyfriend and I care about you," you persisted, taking a step closer toward him.

He turned away, clearly fighting not to let loose and say something he doesn’t meanl. "It just bothers me, alright?" he huffed. "I don't know, it just does. I know you’ve been friends since you were kids, but I can't help it."

You reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm. "Dabi, you’re everything I want. Shoto is my friend, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with you."

He finally met your gaze. "I know, but it just feels like you two have this effortless connection. It's easy for you two. It's not the same with me."

You felt a pang of sympathy for him. "You're right-it's not the same. You and I have something different, something deeper and stronger. I'm with you because I want to be, not because it's easy or convenient."

Dabi let out a sigh, his face caught between frustration and vulnerability. "I don't want to be the jealous boyfriend," he confessed softly. "It just feels... weird.”

You leaned in closer, wrapping your arms around him as you rested your head against him. "It's okay to feel that sometimes. Just talk to me about it instead of bottling it up. I'm here, Dabi. I'm always here.".

He faltered, before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. "I'm sorry I'm grumpy. I just- I want to make sure you're happy, and it feels like Shoto's always there doing that for you."

"You make me happy, Dabi," you said, looking up into his eyes. "I love spending time with you, and being with you- and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Your words caused the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. "I know I can be annoying about this stuff. It's just hard to shake."

You smiled softly, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "You're the one I'm with, remember?” you promised, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

He pulled you in closer, and everything seemed right again. He was still a little jealous, but as long as you two communicated, he knew he could get through it.

"Now, how about we pick a movie to watch? Just us," you said, hopeful to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sure, but if you pick a damn rom-com, then I’m gonna complain some more tonight.” Dabi said jokingly; the teasing smirk already back.

༄ m.list

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phamianaz · 1 day

Text

drama

✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ✦ it was their phoning group live and it was supposed to be all lively and happy.. but what happened to you and hyein?

✦ 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 ✦ i keep seeing hyein having these vibes of gossip girls or the brat? idk but this is what i made and im sorry if this isn't a good one but I PROMISE- i rlly promise it gets better at the end ajiwdHDHDDD

⪩ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ੭

the fans noticed it.

the entire livestream where you and hyein haven't spoken once to each other, and it was bothering the fans so much. they wouldn't want any assumptions as hyein from the very previous livestream with danielle and haerin stated...

but they couldn't help that something had actually happened before their live start.

the livestream began as a group— whereas minji sat in the middle with hyein and danielle on the front row, and at the back row where haerin, hanni and you stood.

it was going well at first. with loud greetings, excited tmi talks, laughter and posing for their fans— it was normal and good, just the usual.

and yet, fans haven't noticed any single moments of you and hyein at all. not once, perhaps never in this live.

you stood at the far right at the back row while hyein sat on the far left at the front row. no glances towards each other, nor any small talks— it was like strangers in the same room.

obviously, the girls were also awkward at the tension and tried to ease the mood by replying to the comments and sharing tmi and others. though, it couldn't be said the same thing to the two certain girls.

until one comment pops, "y/n and hyein hates each other now? figured."

it was clear that the one who commented was being serious and mocking, and it was in their intention to make it clear to anyone who's watching now.

thus, followed the other related comments.

- "what happened to them?"

- "another drama? spill the tea girlies!"

- "lol look at those two. prob fought or smth"

you held your phone to look at the comments and saw these, and it bothered you but you didn't let it show in your face. if you do, it would be used against you by other people who don't like you or your group.

but hyein wasn't like you. she showed it in her face; grimacing and rolling her eyes as she dropped her phone onto the table before looking at the camera.

since you were watching the livestream as well, it pained you to see hyein behaving like that— and obviously, it was your fault. it was because of you.

you sighed softly before turning your phone off, sending a small, strained smile towards the camera.

"oh, that's right! it's y/n's birthday in two weeks! she's turning 19!" danielle cheers, clapping excitedly along with the other members.

though, you only smiled and hyein clapped once. you noticed it and decided to ignore it, despite the ache you felt in your chest. however, hanni noticed it clearly and frowned but didn't say a word.

she turns to you, and nudges your arm gently, causing you to look at her. she smiles to assure you, yet you couldn't, only pursing your lips to show that you're in distress and uncomfortable.

there, she holds your hand, facing ahead and goes along with the hyped members who continue to talk to the fans. since then, you could only remember hanni holding your hand and including you to the conversation, even just for a little bit.

after a little while, you decided to check on the comments again since you were feeling a little better than before. but it was cut short when you read one comment that was, harshly, directed to hyein.

- "hyein's such a brat. what an attitude"

you bit your lower lip, wanting to defend the youngest from that person. and you did— you lowered your phone and carefully releasing hanni's hand before raising it up to the air, causing the girls to stop their chattering and look at you.

"sorry, but i just wanted to point this person out because it's not okay to be offensive and aggressive."

you start, clearing your throat. "i want to say that we just finished practicing almost a minute before we started our livestream,"

the girls nodded. "and, if we ever act weird or something, please— it's normal for us to act this way because we're also human. we are tired from the practice, however, we also wanted to have another moment with you guys because you are special to us."

you ended with that, smiling sweetly as you let them know that they are still special and important to you and your girls, despite the constant hardships all of you are facing every day.

"anyways, that's all! and i also think we should end the livestream because we've been up for almost an hour."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

after the live, you and minji were left alone at the practice room and the other girls leaving to return back to their shared dorm. hyein seemed to be rushing since she left first, as if she was really trying to avoid you.

you were pulled back by minji, who wanted to talk to you about something.

"thanks for making it clear, y/n. i'm glad you pointed it out first before me, because i probably would have said something that could be used against me."

minji sheepishly laughs, but was comforted by you, who slid an arm over her shoulder and a pat on her shoulder. you smile, "it's okay, unnie. i would rather face something worse than you facing another problem like before."

minji pouts and leans her head to yours, "you can't do that.. i'm the eldest, so i'm supposed to-" you hushed her, quickly covering her mouth with your hand causing her to stop from speaking and looked at you.

"better stop with that, unnie." you chuckle before removing your hand, then pulling your arm from her. minji sighs softly, guilt filled her eyes.

"sorry.." you shake your head dismissively, patting her back. "like i said, it's okay. not a big deal for me, really." you reassured her, and soon enough, she seems to ease up and believe you.

silence occurred before it vanished as minji spoke again.

"so, what happened to you and hyein?" she asks, looking at you to observe your expression. you blinked before looking down to the floor.

"... let's talk about it some other day. i'm really tired now."

minji could tell you couldn't tell her the intense situation with hyein, and she understands truly, yet she was still worried about you and hyein. wanting nothing more than you and hyein being happy again.

you and minji finally left the company together, heading to your shared dorm.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

you froze to see hyein sitting on your bed, legs crossed and a small glare that was directly to you. you don't know what to think or say in this situation, but you definitely look like an idiot just standing there that caused hyein to scoff.

"we need to talk, unnie."

you should feel relief to call you 'unnie' like usual, but something in her tone was bothering you a lot. you frowned and slowly dropped your bag onto the floor, taking four steps forward before stopping.

"hyein-ah-" hyein raised her hand to you, causing you to bite your lip and look down. you started to feel the angst inside you, and you don't like how hyein started to behave like this around you.

it was starting to feel so suffocating.

hyein, right now, is acting entirely different— so different and so cold towards you. and it made you tear up without your consent. a sob escaped from your lips, causing hyein to flinch and stare at you with wide eyes.

it was like a mother scolding her daughter— hyein sitting on your bed while you stood there in front of her, crying quietly onto your palms.

"u-unnie," hyei stutters, voice cracked as she frantically stood up and headed to you. whimper and small sobs still continues, and the ache in your heart was all you could feel.

"i-i'm sorry, hyein—" you choked, "i.. i don't know what i did to you, but i'm so so sorry." and god, hyein felt so terrible right now. she just wanted to talk to you about the issues between you and her, but now, you're crying.

and it was because of her.

hyein embraced you tightly, removing your hands from your face and just wrapped her arms around your neck to comfort you. her eyes turning glassy, and she whispers apologies to your ears.

"unnie, i'm sorry- i didn't mean to make you cry." she sniffles, trying to stop herself from crying but alas, she cries with you. you tighten your arms around her, apologizing non-stop and telling her that you really love her and that you're sorry for everything you've done wrong to her.

it made hyein feel even more terrible and horrible. why did she have to act like that towards you? it wasn't unusual for you to cry, be it for something or for someone; you're a very emotional person and all of them knows that.

hyein didn't forget about it— how could she? she loves you very much and knows everything about you like a real family. but when she knows now that the reason you're crying is because of her?

oh, hyein has never hated herself more than anything.

hyein buries her face onto your neck, soaking your skin with her tears while her hands continue to stroke your back and head to comfort you. "please, don't cry, unnie.. i'm sorry."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"... you're so mean, hyein."

haerin sighs in disappointment, with a hint of disbelief of what she just heard. she watched as hyein sobbed and rants at her, face flat on her bed with haerin- the owner of the bed - sat next to her sobbing state form.

"i didn't mean to make her cry," hyein turns her head to the side. upon looking at her horrible face, haerin once again sighs and pats her back comfortingly. "she already forgives you, hyein."

true. after you were done crying with the youngest, both of you had a proper talk, finally, and forgave each other sincerely. you made it sure to let her know that she made you feel incredibly sad and that you were sorry that you cried out of no where.

hyein, however, never stopped apologizing. truthfully, she looks even more sad than you did because she kept on crying and hugging her. you just laugh at her state, saying that she looks ridiculous and funny right now.

after all that, hyein made her way to haerin's room to rant and cry about what she did to you. and haerin was just done with the drama.

"i'm glad that you and y/n are okay now.. but you need to stop crying, hyein. you're soaking my bed." haerin deadpanned, seeing hyein cried even more and burying her face deeper onto the bed.

haerin will make her wash her bedsheets, definitely.

#newjeans #뉴진스 #newjeans hyein #hyein x reader #lee hyein #angst with a happy ending #angst #fluff #help

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slamminslamminmcgill · 15 hours

Text

😌😌😌😌😌

word count: 2896

joel/reader

—

I’M GOING INSANE I’M EATING DRYWALL I’M TAKING HOSTAGES EVERYONE GO FOLLOW OOMF @gymnopedien69 RIGHT NOW

"You know I can hear you, right?"

"You're fucking joking."

"No, I'm being honest, promise, Scout's honour."

You couldn't help but snort. It wasn't funny- it wasn't- but there was something juxtaposed and ironic about Joel's comment. That, and you didn't know how else to react. Motherfucker he'd really heard you? Goddamn, did proper privacy even still exist? Or had that been shot out the window along with every other element that compromised the full deal of decent living. As you had just learned, apparently.

Joel must have noticed your ears turning red, because he gave you a slightly sympathetic look.

"Listen, kid, I don't care, honestly at first I thought it was a phone you'd somehow managed to get working again. But I don't reckon phones vibrate for that long. Or moan."

"Jesus, I get it, okay?" you replied, your ears only getting redder. Joel couldn't help but chuckle at your flustering.

"I just said I don't care. I don't blame you for- well...destressing."

"Joel!"

"Okay, alright, alright, I'll stop. I just thought you should know that-"

"You can hear me, I know."

---

It was the middle of the night, and you couldn't sleep. Nearly three in the fucking morning, and you were wide awake. The faint orange lights from outside shone dimly through the musty, dirty, crooked blinds, casting thin lined shadows on an empty wall on the right side of your shitty, decrepit, dilapidated bedroom. Joel was directly on the other side of the wall from you. Literally, right on the other side. You'd checked. Your beds- well- mattresses on the floor- were only separated by the thin wall you'd, until that afternoon, thought had been much thicker.

It was quiet. Too quiet, you realized. Normally at this hour you could hear your roommate snoring. That was typically the insurance you had taken that it was safe to mess around. Now you could only think about how you'd ever been so stupid and naive.

Joel cleared his throat on the other side of the wall, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. So he was awake. Faintly, you heard fabric shift. Just the bedsheets, right?

This was none of your business.

You rolled onto your side in bed, facing away from the wall, and tugged the sheets over your head. You were going to sleep now, and that was final. He was your roommate, and what he did with his own time was his concern, not yours.

There was something...relaxing about hearing Joel on the other side of the wall. Not in a weird way, jesus, no. It was just nice to know you weren't alone. It was terrifying being alone. At least here you had peace of mind that you weren't.

You were only asleep for about twenty minutes when you startled awake. It took you a second to remember where you were, grounding yourself back in the worn down apartment. Then, your ears tuned in to the soundscape around you. On the other side of the wall, Joel was groaning softly.

This was none of your business.

Still...

No. Crazy, you were being crazy, absolutely not, this was out of the question.

Joel let out a strangled moan that involuntarily made your dick twitch.

Admittedly, you'd always found him intriguingly attractive. You'd never followed the impulse because the last thing you ever wanted to do was make anyone uncomfortable, but the thought had crossed your mind.

In the dark, you listened to Joel bring himself to the edge.

What if you just...

As if commanded by a puppeteer, you slid out of bed and in your tank top and shorts, tip-toed out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Your knuckles were about to knock on Joel's door, slightly ajar, when upon leaning forward, the floorboard under your foot creaked, and all noise Joel was making ceased immediately.

You found yourself holding your breath.

"That you?" Joel asked gruffly from inside his room. You couldn't move.

"Don't be shy," he added after a moment of silence, "C'mere."

What.

Your heart lurched into your throat.

"I said come here, boy." Joel repeated, much more directly this time. Swallowing, you pushed his bedroom door open and walked into the dark room. The blinds on his window cast the same shadow yours did, and the room was very dimly lit with the same orange light as in yours. Joel was in bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Thought that was you," he mumbled, looking at you now standing in the middle of his empty, barren bedroom, "You like eavesdropping on your roommates?"

"No! What- no I wasn't-" you stuttered, shit you hadn't thought this through at all.

"S'okay. I was kind of hoping you would hear. Give you a taste of what it's like." Joel said. Right, so he was going at it.

"Uh...sorry?" you said, unsure what sort of response he was looking for.

"No, goddammit, stop apologizing, god. Come sit," he said, gesturing to the empty part of the mattress. "There's room for one more, if you want."

In the dark, you nodded.

---

He'd pulled you into his lap, bucking his hips against your shorts. You grinded back onto him, already whimpering pathetically.

"God, what are you, a fucking tease, take your damn clothes off. If you're going to be a slut, be a slut, don't give me no half fucking measures, baby boy." Joel growled, pulling you into another deep kiss. His hand began slipping down your waistband. Shit, did he know? You hesitated, slowing. In the haze of pheromones and feral behaviour, you couldn't remember if you'd mentioned in passing that you lacked a regularly sized dick.

"What the fuck are you doing, what's with the slowing down?" Joel asked, pulling back temporarily. He wasn't stupid, he read your cue.

"Listen, I really don't want to put a damper on this whole thing, but I need you to know that I don't-"

"You don't have a cock?" Joel finished your sentence.

"Yeah. That." you confirmed, frowning.

"Yeah you told me once. You were really drunk."

Right. That night. You'd sucked a guy off for a bottle of whiskey and then drank the whole thing in one go. You'd totally forgotten about that.

"Oh yeah. Sorry."

Joel glared at you.

"What the fuck did I say about apologizing." he said, dangerously soft.

"Not to."

"Exactly. Now, I don't give two fucking damns about what's in between your legs. Based on the sounds I've heard you make in the past twenty-four hours I'd say it doesn't matter because you'll still sound like a whore no matter what I do with you. So stop apologizing, take off those damn clothes, and let me help you out a little bit here, because it seems like you need to learn a goddamn lesson."

"Yep- yes- yes sir." you said, obeying immediately, stumbling off the mattress and standing so you could undress. Joel watched you rather hungrily, eyes raking over your frame.

"Beautiful," he whispered, looking you up and down. He took your hand and pulled you back over to him, catching you in a kiss, suddenly abruptly gentle, "You ever kissed an older guy before?" Joel asked.

"Once or twice." you shrugged.

He'd sat up in bed, clearly naked, though the blanket was covering him from the waist down.

"Good. That means I don't have to treat you like a porcelain teacup. Unless you want me to." Joel said, already reaching up to cup your cheek. A shiver went down your spine as his rough hands caressed your face. It had been so long since you'd been with someone like this.

"No." you answered immediately. No, god please don't be gentle. That would actually be like kryptonite. Joel couldn't help but chuckle.

"Thank god."

Before you could process it, he yanked you onto the bed with him, and quite swiftly, he pinned you down onto the bed, looming overtop of you, forcing your legs apart with his knee.

"There we go, don't be so shy, show me that body." Joel coaxed, feeling your legs up and down with his hands, snaking one in between and sliding one finger into your hole. You whimpered and tensed up. Oh god, oh shit, oh god this was really happening.

"Hey, hey, baby boy?" Joel asked, voice gentle once more, "Look at me, honey."

You obeyed, looking up at the figure over you in the dim orange light.

"Hey sweetie, you're okay, it's just you and me. I'm gonna be a little rough like you asked, but you're safe here, okay puppy? You wanna slow down or stop just ask okay? Good boys use safewords, right?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, nodding. Joel, deciding you were sufficiently calmed, continued pushing his finger in and out, relishing in your quite whimpers and moans. Then, a second finger prodded its way in and you got just a little bit louder.

"There we go, listen to you moan, puppy." Joel praised, still fingering your cunt. "God, and I've barely done anything. These are just the first two fingers. You want a third one?"

"Yes- uhuh. Please. Daddy." you gasped, brain already short-circuiting. Joel shoved his fingers extra deep at that.

"Hmm? What did you call me?"

"Daddy..?" you repeated.

Fuck there was the third finger.

"God yeah, that's good." Joel groaned. You felt something poke against your inner thigh and realized it was Joel. Shit, you must have been doing something right then. Joel kept shoving three fingers in and out of your hole for a little while, rubbing his thumb along your twitching, swollen dick. You hadn't had this level of attention in a long, long, time, and you'd pitifully forgotten how insanely better it was than any shitty C tier vibrator with dying batteries you'd somehow managed to scrounge up in this shithole of a society you had the audacity to call a life.

"Joel-" you squeaked, and were met with an abrupt slap directly on your cunt. You let out a strangled cry, followed by another slap.

"the fuck did you call me?" Joel asked, still ramming his fingers in and out.

"Sorry- Daddy! I meant daddy."

He slapped your face.

"Daddy!" you amended your statement. No apologizing. Good boys didn't apologize.

"There we go, that's more like it. Fucking own your goddamn self, puppy. don't you dare say sorry for cock this good." Joel growled primally, watching you try to contain all the adrenaline and energy building up inside your body.

"I'm gonna fucking cum." you whined. Joel chuckled darkly.

"Awe, yeah? Are you gonna fucking cum?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah? Little bitch boy's gonna come?"

"Please."

Joel leaned down, breathing ragged in your ear.

"Too fucking bad, puppy. Wait."

And then there was nothing.

You squealed, squirmed and whined, groaning with disappointment. Joel held onto your thighs, and let you come to terms with reality.

"Calm down. You have no fucking clue what's coming." he said gently. After he'd determined you were no longer on the edge, he smirked and a shiver ran down your spine.

"Right now what do I want you do to again?" Joel asked, checking in before proceeding.

"Not apologize." you mumbled, laying exposed on the bed. Joel chuckled. Christ, you were adorable.

"Yes, that, but also?"

"Safewords. Good boys use safewords."

"Yes they do," Joel praised, leaning forward and kissing your forehead, "Very good of you to remember, I'm very proud of you."

Joel lined himself up, and then you saw stars. He was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. Like fireworks shooting you into a place where time didn't exist and everything was just pure, intense feeling. Like your nerve endings were burning and the only thing they needed to keep functioning was more. Your inhibition was shut off and you became loose- so fucking loose in Joels arms. He rammed in and out of you groaning and reverently touched his forehead to your chest, right near your chin, losing himself in the wave of pleasure.

You draped your hands over the back of his head, feeling his hair in between your fingers, kind of like you wanted to hold onto it for stability.

"Go on," Joel grunted, "Tug on it."

He said it almost like it was a challenge, and you had a response, but it only came out as a whimper. Your hands curled into fists, obeying his request and Joel moaned loudly, speeding up.

"There you go, that's my good boy."

"Da-ddy?" you asked. Joel immediately became attentive.

"Yes puppy?"

"It feels s-so good." was all you could think to say. Somewhere in the background Joel chuckled.

You only ascended from there.

Later- it could have been a minute or an hour- you'd lost track of time, Joel pulled out of your now gaping hole and slapped his cock on your a few times for good measure.

"Okay son, turn around, Daddy wants to use you from behind. Don't be quiet now, okay? Make all the noise you need, honey." he said gently, helping you up, and positioning you on your knees.

"Good boys still use safewords, right?" you mumbled, making sure you still had the rules in order. Joel pressed several kisses down your spine.

"Yes they do, and you're very smart for remembering that, puppy. Are you okay?"

"Yes sir." you chimed.

If the first time Joel stuck his dick into your cunt caused you to go to a place where time didn't exist, doing it doggy style wiped you off the map entirely. Even if you had wanted to make an attempt to stay quiet, you couldn't. Not that you were, of course, Joel had taught you that good boys didn't apologize, and that good boys were loud when they needed to be.

You think you screamed, but you didn't really remember.

Your hands gripped fists full of the bedsheets and you felt your body move with the rhythm of Joels hips slamming into your ass. His calloused hands gripped your hips and once he got his bearings he wasted no time beginning to slap your ass relentlessly. It stung, but it felt good, and neither you nor Joel could get enough of it. Come daylight your cheeks would be beet red and bruised, but by God was it worth it.

"I'm gonna fucking cum in you, kiddo." Joel growled, strained.

"Please-" was all you could get out.

"Yes sir, baby boy, you don't even have to fucking ask." the older man groaned, speeding up. His hand snaked around your front and gently, so goddamn gently, coaxed your up, so that your back was flush against his chest, and you were both on your knees, and that's where he held you close.

The hand that had eased you up travelled down and you sobbed with pleasure, leaning your head back against his shoulder when his fingers began playing with your pathetically neglected cock on top of all the other attention he was giving you.

"Gonna take me?" Joel panted, taunting slightly.

"Mhm!" you whined, feeling him pulse inside of you.

"I fucking thought so. God I hoped you'd hear me. I was thinking about you, you know. Thinking about the sounds you made and- oh yes just like that, son. Just like that, kiddo. Oh fuck, you've got me on the fucking edge, I don't think I've ever met a toy as good as you and-"

Joel cut himself off with his own strained, strangled moan, the same one that got you going at the beginning of this whole endeavor. As Joel lost his mind pumping you full of cum, you fell over the edge, and everything went white. There was ringing in your ears, and all you could do was shake.

---

"Shh...easy, baby boy, just breathe. Breathe for me honey." someone said in the background.

"Breathe, remember to breathe." he said again, chuckling softly, his voice ragged and worn out. Your eyes, screwed shut, opened, and you blinked a couple of times before the world came back into focus. You were still trembling, and aftershocks washed over you in waves. You were leaning head down on the mattress, ass still up and pressed against Joel's hips. His hand was pressed against your back, gently rubbing up and down as if to soothe you through the experience.

"You're okay. You're still here. You're with me." he reminded you, sighing, still catching his own breathe.

As your body stopped tingling, and feeling began to come back to your legs and waist, you realized how fucking soaked everything was. the mattress under your knees was drenched- your own thighs were drenched, you felt come on your lower back- that was probably Joels- god, you were still pulsing. There were tears on your cheeks and you pushed yourself up. The intensity of it all came crashing down on you. Joel was quick to pick up on this.

"Hey, come here, come here darling," he cooed, easing you up again, wrapping his arms around you, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek, "here, let's lay down a second. can we do that kiddo?"

you nodded, following his lead. it felt nice to stretch out your knees and legs, you'd been leaning on them for a while.

"there we go, that's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, voice hoarse from moaning so loudly. The whole experience had been cathartic.

"You did really well, puppy. are you okay? nothing hurts?"

"no." you replied. as the adrenaline began to crash, exhaustion started taking over your body, and a wonderfully warm, sleepy feeling seeped into your muscles.

"Did you have a good time?" you yawned. Joel pulled you close to his chest and laughed, the sound low and rumbling against your ear.

"Yeah, darling, I had a great time. Lord knows I fucking needed that."

"we should do it again." you said absentmindedly, already half asleep against Joel's chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

#submission #joel miller headcanon #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou smut #tlou headcanons #joel tlou #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller x ftm reader #joel miller x trans reader

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threepandas · 16 hours

Text

Bad End: After The War

The click of a button in a mostly quiet room. Machines humming as they churn an endless stream of data. Listening. Receiving. Filtering through the noise, for those bits of intelligence that might win us the war. The outpost was quite. As much as it could be, at least, on this god forsaken moon.

"Perimeter Check?"

More specifically, 'did you get your ass eaten by those horrifying eel-snakes? Because you promised not too, and I WILL be mad.' 'Cept, you know, these channels are technically recorded. Rather not have my snark On Record, thanks. So SUBTEXT.

The familiar, oh so melodious, demonic death screeching of abomination eels and blaster fire comes on comm. A symphony straight out of some sci-fi horror movie, act 3. The part where everybody's getting eaten. Except NOT, because this? This is just my life.

Though the eaten part is still a Very Real Risk.

Which Is FUN.

I wait. Hope I just caught Headshot at just a bad time. Not, you know, in his final moments. Ha ha... Nope! Not! Thinking 'bout that! He's immortal, I'm immortal, and we both live in a happy fun time fairy land of FUCKING WONDERS. Denial? Fuck yeah I know her! Best friend, that one. Gonna be my future kids godparent. Walk me down the aisle. We BESTIES.

There is finally, at long last, ominous silence. Dead or dying? Dead or dying? Which side, eels or Headshot, is Dead or-?

Click.

"Perimeter looks good. Bit of a mess near the east gate, though. We'll need to get the droids to shove some mess over the ledge. They tried to climb again."

Oh thank FUCK. Tension bleeds out of me. This post is hell on my anxiety. I send back the confirm. Slump back on my seat as I keep an eye on his tracker's dot, on the patrol read out. I fucking HATE perimeter checks. They aren't safe. But... well...

This universe? I'm pretty sure, it's an "all the serial numbers filed off" blatant rip off of Star Wars. Might be a fan fiction? Cause, while the troupes are familiar, the "characters", no one is where or WHO they should be. There are also other "totally not X" bits here and there, all of which confuses the fuck out me.

But what I DO know? Is that making a fuss about the safety and well-being of us peons? During this, the "totally not the Clone Wars"? While Evil Dick, Sith-y Pants the Obvious is in charge? GREAT way for our entire outpost to get "tragic casualties of war"-'d. So yeah, no thanks.

Keeping my mouth shut.

And, hey! At least they ate our complete asshole of a commander. Technically we SHOULD be getting a new one... but we were told to make do. Same with all the OTHER critical roles currently empty.

The DICK.

Like? I know he wants to drag out the war and maximize suffering for Evil Not-Sith, Off Brand Space Wizards Of EVIL Powers? But like? Fffffuck yoooou, dude. What the hell. Hope he stubs EVERY toe, always.

The Clones deserve better then this. The SECOND the war is over? I'm stealing Headshot. Fuck this "property of the state" bullshit. Just me 'n him, man. We could go explore the wilds. Or get him a beard and fake glasses. Clone? What clone! This is my BROTHER, Headshot. Our parents were gun-toting hippies. My names Moonrock. Fuck off, maybe. Keep walking.

The second I see him cross the base threshold, I switch over to Droid command. They can't hold my shift forever, but for a bit? Should be fine.

Jogging down the hall and sliding down a few ladders, I finally catch sight of Headshot as he leaves the staging area. Oof. That is a LOT of eel blood. The cleaning bots are cursing up a storm as they follow him. Even from the other end of the hallway... he smells... ripe.

I give him a second to lead the way and for the bots to work behind him. Then join in the little parade. Ah, eel goo. The third worst thing that could come out of going outside. Right behind losing a limb or dying. But hey! I restocked the soaps for ya!

"Doesn't change that it's on my everywhere, Commander."

Oooooh~ breaking out the COMMANDER are we? Is that SASS I hear? Snark perhaps? Why HEADSHOT! Such insubordination~! What EVER shall I do?

He snorts and suggest something anatomically impossible as he gestures to the shower rooms door. I tap it open for him. Goo boy that he is. Grinning I follow and find a bench where I can sit so my back is to him. It... used to be weird, to be honest, this level of living in each others pockets. But time and isolation has eroded a lot.

Clones don't really see boundaries like everyone else. Don't have the same taboos or unspoken social rules. After all... they're all the same gender. Were forced to live basicly in a breadbox with each other. The culture that developed reflects that. And I? Am more of a follower then a "type A". Not passive by any stretch of the imagination, just... eh.

I don't have the social outgoing-ness? I guess? To drag the culture of our base towards MY social norms as opposed towards his. It made him comfortable. I shrugged and went okay. Rinse and repeat. To be honest I was just glad he trusted me enough to SHARE.

Booting up my definitely-not-a-tablet, (which is of course, STUFFED full of various bits of sci-fi technology that only half makes sense) I once again try and connect to the wider army's mainframe. Nothing. I've BEEN trying for weeks now. But for some reason? We're cut off.

No new commands. No new forms to fill. No demands for information.

No UPDATES on what the FUCK is HAPPENING out there.

I'm... not gonna lie, getting nervous. We're a listening outpost. Some of our information is time sensitive. And our SUPPLIES are not infinite. Forget food, if we run out of AMMO? Those nightmare snake-eel THINGS will... Look, long and short of it? I've got an "empty" blaster shoved under my bunk. Two shots left. And compared to the slow, SLOW digestion and meat threshing teeth those horrors have?

At least it's FAST.

But I would REALLY prefer we NOT fucking come to that, you know? That someone would fucking PICK UP. Or? I don't know!? Notice we're offline? Whatever the problem is! The fact that we've gone dark is SPOOKING the fuck out of me.

Not to mention? That even BEFORE communication went down? The chat rooms and update boards weren't making a whole lot of sense. Lot of clone specific references that I didn't get. Memes, maybe? I don't KNOW and that's the part that's killing me. I had no way to CHECK. It all just... went dark.

We're still GETTING data. But? We can't seem to SEND it. Headshot and I checked. I checked the droids while he got the dish and other external devices. Clambering around the roof with his sniper rifle like a well armed, circus trained, mechanic. Nothing was wrong with the droids. And according to Headshot? Nothing was wrong with the dish.

After a while I gave up. Again.

Reminded myself to practice my meditative breathing. In... out... IN... OUT... do NOT trough your only Data Tablet. You'll break it. You can't REPLACE it. It might FEEL satisfying in the moment... but it's Not Worth It. Just listen to the sound of the running water. The quite of the room. Breathe... unclench your jaw, make your muscles relax, c'mon you can do this.

Fuck, I needed my anti-anxiety meds. But we were starting to ween me off them so I didn't go cold turkey when we ran out. It was fucking with my head. But, hey! At least I wouldn't run the risk of seizures! Or any suicidal ideation! No, just slowly building anxiety, in this, History's Most Stressful Outpost.

The shower shut off behind me. Leaning forward to grab a towel from the stack, I tossed it blindly over my shoulder. Heard him catch it. Wet feet slapping quietly against tiles as he walked forward, drying himself. From the feel of droplets and heat, looming just behind me? He was leaning over my shoulder. The man always did like to damn near boil himself in the shower.

"Still nothing? We've run out of D6 bolts. Not to mention your meds..." He commented, still drying off. I could feel the occasional brush of a towel. A bare arm reached over my shoulder to tap at the screen. "Have you tried...? Shit."

He tried several commands. Leaning over me, damn near cradling the back of my head against his bare chest. But nothing worked. Plopping his chin down on the top of my head, he casually wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his weight on me as he considered the problem. The fans kicked in overhead, dehumidifing and hopefully preventing any sort of alien molds.

I told him to go put on some fuckin pants, before he frozen something he might miss off.

With an amused snort he stood and wandered over to the armor cleaner. Grabbing a new undersuit. Blacks went on, armor freshly de-goo-d, he called that he was presentable once more. I swung my legs over the bench. No need to stand, after all, if we're not leaving yet. Besides, exhaustion was a symptom of the withdrawals. Med changes are a BITCH.

Just as I was about to suggest anough brainstorming session, though?

Our comms both ping. LOUDLY.

That's the emergency signal from the control room. SHIT. I'm up and running before the sound even fades. Headshot right behind me. Not so much because he can't out run me, as he'd stop to grab his weapons as was bringing up the rear. Guarding my back. I prayed, PRAYED, this wasn't an attack. We were supposed to be a fourteen person team.

There were TWO OF US.

We'd never be able to hold the line. Would DIE here. Fuck, I didn't even have time to get that gun! I should have been carrying it. It had been too morbid. But... but...!

I slam into the control room. Headshot a half step behind. The droids frantically churning away. Okay. Okay! What's happening? A ship, big one, in orbit. Oooooh fuck. How Big? I ask. Am informed? "Wipe us from the face of the galaxy" Big. Ha ha! FUCKING FANTASTIC. Great! Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess! Okay. Okay!

Let's DO this.

Get on the short range ship comm, (never thought I'd USE it but here we fucking ARE) and ask, politely, for them to Fucking Identify Themselves. (Because we have Big Guns and are NOT afraid to use um!)

There is a long tense moment. Then? Oh thank merciful FUCK. A Clone's voice comes on the line. General Spark of the 153rd, in pursuit, they're here to catch traitors and resupply if we need anything. Permission to land a few ships?

I. Could. WEEP.

Yes! Oh, ABSOLUTELY yes! Whoever they're chasing picked a REALLY stupid planet to hide out on, not gonna lie. They'll be picking their traitors up in PIECES. But? Never has a voice been more beautiful. Send Techs! You have FULL use of the outpost General! Welcome!

Setting the droids to navigating the incoming ships safely through landing, I all but DRAG Headshot towards the landing pad. People! Actual, real, PEOPLE! Supplies! Oh thank FUCK! We might be able to figure out what wrong with our relays! Get NEWS! And? That was a CLONE GENERAL!!!

That NEVER happens!

I can practically feel my self vibrating with excitement. Bouncing slightly on the balls of my feet, as the ships come in for a landing. The officers that roll out are all clones. Their armor more personalized then I've ever seen it. It's BEAUTIFUL. I can't help but lean over and whisper to Headshot, saying as much. Wondering if we can get him some of the supplies they must of used.

You know, assuming he WANTS any of um.

If not? Dibs.

His shoulders are shaking. Why are-? One of the officers thanks me for the compliment. Headshot you SON OF A SUBSTANDARD VAT. Was your SHORT RANGE MIC ON!? Why would you not-!? Bastard! Dead to me! Sorry general, I've never met this man before in my LIFE. Couldn't introduce if I TRIED.

Still! High ranking clones? We love to see it. I am THRILLED. It's been long over due.

Dooooesn't mean we should hang out in Eel Country though. Everybody INSIDE! Let's goooo. Nice and safe, where no ones getting eaten, m'kay? Thank you! And yes! I DO have a list of resupply needs! A LONG list. Starting with my meds, followed by ammo. Though honestly they're tied at first...

As me and the, now rather concerned, medic chat about the collapsing state of our highly rationed medical supplies? Headshot and the General are off to the side... talking about... something. Not sure. Probably not important, or he'd include me. I show the medic our "infirmary" and medical charts. Then get pulled away by the mechanic.

I barely get to SEE Headshot over the next two days. Forget sitting down. The only breaks I get? Meals and lights out. It's kinda awesome. Exhausting, yes, but? After so long isolated? It's a good type of exhausted. The sort where you feel like? For ONCE? You're actually being productive.

There are SO MANY eel burrows to scan? Potential landing sites? And all the MAINTENANCE? Dear merciful FUCK. Literally everything is out of date and cheap as BALLS. Held together with shoe strings and a prayer. But finally! FINALLY! Someone in budgeting GIVES A SHIT!!! Better equipment! Actual medical supplies! Real bedding! And best of ALL?

AIs! As in Actual, information sorting, artificial intelligences!

Because there literally hasn't been a REASON for humanoids to do this job for CENTURIES aside from a misplaced sense of superiority and distrust of droids! All WE need to do? Is stay on base and make sure THEY don't go rogue or break down from the extended isolation! Woooo desk job!

I'm gonna name um. They shall be my BABIES.

That said? None of this? Is very... Off Brand Sith-y. Little too "cares about their fellow man"-ish, you know? And... I'm not stupid. Excited as FUCK, for all the supplies and new changes... but not? Stupid. Blind.

They're keeping me away from the control room.

Keeping me out of important discussions. Sending me off on errands. All of which? SEEM important. ARE important, on the surface, but hide the fact that they are intentionally scheduled? Just as Certain Things Are Discussed. I am being... handled. Like a child. A fool.

When I confront Headshot? In our bunkroom, which we've shared for YEARS at this point. Slept just across from each other, so this lonely hell might feel just a little less empty? So when the dark thoughts creep in? That we might die in this God forsaken place, forgotten by the universe, left to ROT here, and wouldn't it just be easier to-? Someone there, so we won't. So we still matter.

He stands across from me. In OUR place. OUR room.

And FUCKING LIES.

......I guess I know where I stand, huh? And I know... I KNOW, I shouldn't feel betrayed. Clones come first, always. That's the party line. How they survived. I'm a Nat. There was always a power imbalance between us. I would always have been held just that bit further away then one of the brothers. Guess... guess it just finally happened.

I shouldn't feel betrayed. I have no RIGHT to feel betrayed.

But I do.

Headshot looks alarmed, hands twitching at his side, even as he tries to maintain his facade. Nothing's happing. They aren't doing anything. Right. Uh huh. His lie sits between us like a field of broken glass. The words, the arguments, I'd been looking for now seeming so useless. What's the point? He's made his decision.

I feel like crying. Don't want to talk anymore.

Good NIGHT, Headshot.

In the morning, I don't bother asking. I know he notices. Is waiting, restless, for us to continue on as we always have. We always check schedules after all. But what's the point? He'll lie. Instead I pull my armor on and go. Go to your brothers, Headshot. Whatever's happening here, I'm clearly not trusted enough to be part of it.

I just get out of your way.

There's a lot of busy work on my schedule, but honestly? The new AIs are learning to handle it. Instead, I head down to the new supply crates. Grab some bedding. A cart. Then head back. Pack up my shit. I just... can't.

Moving it all to a different bunk, I still have most of the day left to go. Could...? Probably? Check out if we actually DO have space rats? The droids have been reporting dust and noise in the basement, near the food stores. So likely vermin of some kind. Gonna be horrifying to find out what kind of vermin exsist HERE, but better then nothing, I guess.

Grabbing one of the better ration bars to shove in my face on the way to the gun locker, I count it a breakfast. Everyone's busy with a clone only meeting. Good for them, I guess. Not upset with General Spark or his men, I realize, as I check over the gun, no... just Headshot. Because he hurt me.

All he had to say was "I can't tell you." Or "trust me" and I WOULD have. But no. He LIED. To my FACE. And now? Now I feel like I'm waking around with shards of glass where my heart should be. Like I want to hit something. I need a distraction. So down to long term storage I go.

Normally? It's only droids down here. I have to ride a cramped little maintenance elevator lined with blast doors. You know, incase Satan's favorite pet somehow burrows in. The fuckers. It's also freezing. Which, I mean? Great for food storage, not so much for thermal regulation.

The level is eerie quiet.

Which.... huh. That's? Not right.

I reach for my comm before pausing. The hurt in my chest throbbing. I know I shouldn't let it get in the way of professionalism. Of protocol. The rules are there for a reason. To keep us alive and safe. But... God, I don't want to hear his fucking voice right now. I might cry. Say something I don't mean and regret later. You don't LAST long, isolated out in Hellpit, Nowhere, without doing a little soul searching.

Mortifying ordeal of being known and all that.

My hand drops. It's fine. I'm FINE. There's nothing down here. Or, well, should be nothing down here. We'll find out.

Slowly moving forward, I begin to check the stacks. I don't see any of the droids. Don't HEAR any of them. There should be at least thirty down here. But all I hear? Is the circulation fans. The sound of my foot steps. Something isn't right.

It's a loose, half melted screw in the path that saves me. At first I think it's a bug. But the quite clink when my foot nudges it is unmistakable. It makes me look sideways. There, a cleaning droid, cut down from behind. Tiny little mechanical claws still reaching out to claw itself to safety. Wheels shredded. The marks of a lazer blade are unmistakable.

The hiss-hum even more so.

I BARELY dodge.

Half my gun, simply sheared away. Molten slag dripping from the cut point, the battery already violently destabilizing ask it's nicked. I throw it, before I have the chance to lose a limb. The blast takes out a crate. I'm thrown. Barely roll in time to dodge the downward stab of the hissing blade. A brutal, magic-enhanced, kick sends me flying.

Straight through a stack of ration crates, into a wall mounted medical case. I land among the corpses of the droids. Each, a picture of terror and betrayal. I don't understand what's happening. The blades not red or black! It's blue! That's a not-jedi! Right?! Why are they!? Crates are lifted into the air. Threatening to smash down and bury me alive.

Can't move. Something twisted, badly, in my leg. My chest burning. Something cracked, I could feel it. I'm gonna die. Oh good, I'm gonna DIE.

"Wait! She's not a clone!"

I stare up into the face of the so called "good guys" and feel nothing but terror. Around me, the pieces of thirty droids I'd named and known, dead and dumped like trash upon the ground. Flower with his fussy need to have everything just so, Chirp who loved to sing, Mouse with the wheel I could never get to stop squeeking.

Nothing but Cannon fodder.

They died so afraid.

"Oh! You're right! Sorry! I thought you were one of those 'peating bastards. Are you okay? How long have they held you?" The Knight said. His Apprentice nodding eagerly.

My brain was static. Empty. Held? Slurs? W-what in God's name? I stayed down. Feeling small, lost, and confused. Pain rocking my body from being thrown around. The Apprentice, at least, seemed to pick up on the fact that I had no idea what the fuck they were on about.

"Ah. You don't know what's happened." She said sympathetically. It would be nicer, if she hadn't stood back while I was hurt, before they got around to asking who's side I was on. "The Clones betrayed the Republic. Took it over by force. They've made an empire. They killed the old Chancellor, who was Fallen, but then instead of handing the Republic back to the people? Kept it! Said we couldn't be trusted with it."

The last part was said mockingly. As though everyone and their brother hadn't been aware the Republic was on the brink of collapse. Corruption at an all time high. As though that same Republic hadn't been using the Clones as a SLAVE ARMY.

Slaves do tend to take exception to their chains, historically.

I wasn't really sure why the fuck they were surprised.

"Now come on, you can join the Rebellion. You must know all sort of information, from sitting out here, right? You can-!"

Click.

My helmet went full dark and internal audio only. Which was interesting because I still could barely move. But then bright light and sound, popped and cracked not to far away from my head. A flash grenade. And I finally, FINALLY? Remembered that all standardized armor? Comes with in built life support feeds.

Headshot's mystery meeting was in the command room... where my life sign readout would be. The life support feedback. Real time monitoring from me getting my ass kicked and WHERE.

A hand grabs the drag handle built into each armor, for EXACTLY this reason, and I feel my self pulled out of the danger zone. Can hear heavy, open fire. Shit. There goes our supplies. My helmet clears and I recognize the shoulder I've been careful thrown over. Headshot. He came.

He falls back at some signal I can't see. Straight to the elevator.

The shoulder under me is shaking, just slightly. Adrenaline, fear, anger. I can't tell. But... I... I'm...

"Don't." His voice is rough. Choked out through gritted teeth. His grip just carefully loose enough not to bruise. It seems to be taking everything he has. "You don't get to die. Do you understand me? You're not ALLOWED to die. Not now. Not ever. We didn't survive this long for you to leave me now."

He barely waits long enough for the door to open. Stride smooth and desperate as he races us towards the medic. I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe. Let myself be manhandled. Ha ha... a-at least? I know what he's keeping from me now. So there's that. Ow. Oh god.

The medic has to put me under. Bone fragments.

I drift.

Wake up, bandaged to hell and back, in ou-... in Headshot's bunkroom. Across from the empty bunk that used to be mine. Bed's softer then it should be, still smelling like Headshot. We haven't had the new sheets long enough. Knowing him, he probably stacked um.

The door opens. Headshot stalks in, dragging a cart behind him. His usual "pleasantly amused by life" expression nowhere to be seen. Instead? His expression is... blank. A determined, almost violent, edge to the set of his shoulders.

In silence, I watch as he unloads the cart. Bedding, knickknacks, the various bit of cobbled together wall art. All carefully stuck right back where it had been before. As though he had memorized the proper location of each and every piece. Even as he worked, with his back to me, every line of his body was daring me to be dumb enough to argue.

I didn't want too. I was just... just fucking tired.

Didn't like that we were arguing. If that was even what we were doing.

"Why?" I asked. Summing up everything and distilling it. Why didn't you just fucking TELL me? Why didn't you TRUST me? Why did you think I'd turn on you? Why would you lie? Why were we cut off? Was it REALLY a technical error? Why take the Republic? Why ANY of this?

Just... WHY, Headshot? Please...

"I refuse to lose you. When the war ended, you were going to leave. You said you'd take me with you... but honestly? That was naive. There would be no where safe we could ever go. We all knew that. We all had favorites." He finally stopped organizing my bed. Instead, smoothing down the sheet. Running both hands across it as he stared down, unseeing. "It was all so unorganized. Filthy. They treated us like DIRT. But we were... we ARE better. Designed to be superior. Stronger, smarter, faster. More durable. Why were we listening to them?"

"Then we found out why. Control chips in the brain. The nervous system. Carefully hidden, yes. But not carefully enough. You weren't authorized, you know. I'm glad. If you had been? I'd never have forgiven you. You'd never know you were dead before you died. But... I promise."

"I would have made it fast." His smile was a terrible thing. All broken edges and betrayal. Teeth upon teeth. A mania finally set free.

"Never thought those hypocrites would run here. Expect us to die for them. The happy little slaves. For the glory of THEIR Republic. You'll be okay, Commander. The General's agreed to stay until your back on your feet, just in case."

Headshot slides onto the bunk, sitting at my side, sweetly brushing hair from my face as though he hasn't lost his god damned mind. He's the picture of relief, now that there's no more secrets between us. Now that I'm injured and dependent on his help. Yet... it's teetering.

As though at any minute...

He could slide into some... unhinged state of mind. How LONG has he been on his last thread? Barely holding together? He leans forward and my mind goes utterly still. His lips pressed gently against mine. Chaste. Sweet. A warm, calloused hand, cradling my poor bruised cheek.

"I promise we'll stay together." He whispers against my stunned mouth. Eyes intent and mad, utterly loving. Like a strangers. "I won't let them seperate us. Not for anything. Now that it's done? We can be assigned anywhere. I'll take you with me. War's over, love. We're finally free."

Were we?

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multifandomfix · 3 days

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I Never Promised You A Rose Garden — Regina Mills

Summary: You’ve always loved Regina, but her actions as the Evil Queen finally become too much to bear. Will she see the error of her ways in time or will it be too late to make her amends?

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: Angst, grief, no happy ending

You’ve always loved Regina.

You were there before Daniel, before the eventual heartbreak that followed in the wake of his death, before she became the Evil Queen. From the moment you met her, you knew she was special. She was kind, passionate, and full of life. When she fell in love with Daniel, you saw her happiness and swallowed your own pain, choosing instead to support her.

You remembered the first time you saw her with him. The way her eyes sparkled and her laugh rang out, pure and unrestrained. It was a beautiful sight, even if it broke your heart. "He's everything to me," she had confided to you one day, her smile brighter than the sun. You nodded, forcing a smile and hiding the turmoil inside you. You told her you were happy for her. In part, at least, you were.

When Cora killed Daniel, you were the one who held Regina, comforting her through her grief. "I can't go on without him," she had sobbed, clinging to you like a lifeline. You wanted to whisk her way and protect her from the world’s cruelty then, but before you’d had a chance, Leopold came with his proposal, and she was drawn into a grander life that you couldn’t follow her into. "I have to do this," she'd said to you, mere days before she was to depart, and this time it not only broke your heart, but hers. Cora had made this decision for her, and no matter what you said, you knew her fate was sealed.

When Leopold died, Regina found you again, asking you to be an adviser in her court. It wasn’t an offer you could refuse, not that you had wanted to. You were happy to be by her side once more, even though something felt different. In private, she was still your Regina, soft and caring, especially with you and her father, Henry. But around others, she had become the Evil Queen, cold and ruthless. It was a dissonance you struggled to reconcile.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked her one night, after a particularly harsh punishment to one of her guards.

"Because I have to be strong," she replied, looking away. You thought to argue that there were other ways she could be seen as such, but you could tell by her demeanor that she would hear none of it.

You, along with Henry, tried to dissuade her from casting the curse you both knew was coming, but again, she wouldn’t listen. "This isn't the answer, Regina," you pleaded. "You can't build your happiness on others' misery."

She looked at you, eyes hard. "Happiness is a lie," she snapped. "Revenge is all I have left."

Watching the woman you so ardently adored become this cold, unloving and merciless queen had hurt you more than you imagined. You debated leaving more than once, but your devotion to her and the person she’d been stopped you each and every time. You still thought you could get through to her.

However, her sacrificing her father to enact her dark curse was the breaking point. You couldn’t hold back any longer. "Regina, stop!" you shouted, rushing to her side. "I can't let you do this."

She turned to you, eyes cold. "You don't get to tell me what to do," she said. "Not anymore." You could tell the last part wasn’t meant for you specifically, but Regina was so lost in her own hatred, she wasn’t being rational.

"This isn't you," you cried, tears streaming down your face. "I don't recognize you anymore. What happened to the woman I loved?"

Regina's eyes widened in shock. "Loved?" she repeated, incredulous. "You... loved me?" For a moment, you glimpsed the Regina you used to know.

"Yes," you said, voice trembling. "I've loved you all these years. Even when it hurt, even when you pushed me away."

And just like that it was gone, that lightness in her eyes darkened once more and Regina snapped, refusing to believe you. To her, the only happiness was making Snow White suffer. Your confession was seen as a weakness, an obstacle in her path to revenge. "You're lying," she spat. "You're trying to weaken me, to stop me from getting what I deserve."

"No, Regina, please," you begged. "I'm telling the truth. I love you."

But it was too late. She had her guards seize you, and you were left to watch as she prepared to cast the curse. "Get out," she ordered, voice breaking slightly. "And don't come back."

It was too late for Regina to turn back. "I can't stop now," she whispered to herself, tears in her eyes as she moved to complete the curse. "I can't."

*****

For twenty eight years in Storybrooke, she thought about you, regretting the day that she let you go and longing for your presence. With no magic in this land, she couldn’t track you down. She didn’t even know if you’d made it here when the curse covered the land. She had no way of knowing for certain. Not unless she saw you. And for all twenty eight years, she’d not even seen you in passing once.

Finally, when Emma broke her curse, Regina disappeared to her vault and cast a spell on a necklace of yours that she had kept for all these years. The spell led her to a spot in the back of her garden where a bush of wild roses grew. Confused, she went to Gold, who gave her a potion to show the last memories of the person she thought about.

Once safely home, she drank the concoction down, damning any side effects that may come with it. She had to know where you were. Her vision clouded over and a scene played out in her head.

It was back on the day she cast the curse, you had broken free from her guards, the ones she’d ordered to take you away from her. You tried to reach her, in one desperate last chance to stop her. If you’d made it to her, you still would been too late, somehow she knew that, but as she watched you run, trying to make it back in the castle, she felt an ache grip her chest. And there it was, you, stumbling up the stairs in your hurry and alerting some of the castle knights. Thinking you were an ally of Snow White and Prince Charming, they pursued you, catching you easily enough after your fall. And Regina collapsed onto the floor when she witnessed one of them stab their sword through your chest.

As the fog of the memories lifted from her eyes she realized, if her house here in Storybrooke represented her former castle, then the bush of wild roses in her yard marked the very spot where you died.

Regina was completely broken by the vision and by your loss, but she made a promise to herself. She hadn’t been able to protect you in life, but she would take care of those roses until her dying breath. The bush grew there at the back of her garden because you had almost reached her when the curse was cast. Now, the place of your death had become a silent testament to her loss.

Every day, Regina tended to the roses, pouring her love and regret into their care. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the blooms. "I was blind and foolish. I should have listened to you."

As the years passed, the roses flourished under her care, a living memorial to the love she had lost. Regina would often sit by the bush, talking to the flowering bush as if you could hear her. "I miss you," she would say, tears glistening in her eyes. "I wish I could reverse it all, make things right."

In her heart, she vowed to honor your memory, knowing that she had been too blind to see the truth when it mattered most. The roses became her solace, a reminder of what she had once and had lost, and the depth of her own folly. And as she tended to them, she hoped that somehow, somewhere, you could feel her love and her regret, and forgive her.

For @annalestern

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Regina Mills: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @riveranddoctorsong123, @the-disorderly-writer, @ladysc, @reginassecretlover, @sarah-paulsons-bottom-lip, @ejcoolgirl, @xscarlettxbelovax, @iciclesandsnow, @the-bearr, @akeldamasemele, @geekyandgay98, @yetanotherattemptatanaccount, @academiagaymess, @lady-darkswan3, @babygirlscout, @myfriendtuvok, @axel-barnes

#regina mills #regina mills one shot #regina mills x reader #once upon a time #once upon a time one shot #ouat #ouat one shot #request #send requests #requests open

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justalovelyblackgf · 12 hours

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CLARK KENT HELPING YOU TAKE OUT YOUR BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever to get your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried. fortunately, your fiancé clark is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that’s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get of enough it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as two are both putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer more than when he was using those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

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twig-tea · 2 days

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Thoughts on The On1y One Finale

Long story short: I did not like it. A romance narrative in which neither couple actually gets together, not even temporarily, is just not satisfying. Especially when we felt the time being wasted week to week near the end.

Not only did neither Sheng Wang nor Jiang Tian admit their feelings to each other--both think they're in a one-sided crush--but Jiang Tian can tell that Sheng Wang is pulling away and lying about it, and Sheng Wang is fucking up his future in order to keep away from Jiang Tian and manage his own feelings. But they still live in the dorm together, because they've promised each other to stay together through the year, and Sheng Wang knows he can't break that promise without wrecking Jiang Tian. I appreciate that Sheng Wang is finding ways to sabotage his own future cleverly, so that nobody can call him on it, without breaking the promises he's made [I stay on my competency kink train, always], but that is not a satisfying place to end a story.

Meanwhile Zhao Xi has finally had it confirmed that actually Lin Bei Ting [returns his feelings] has real feelings for him, and...we end there, again with no resolution.

Two sets of presumed one-sided crushes staying away from each other for internalized homophobia (and other) reasons, one as kids and one as adults, neither of which left resolved. That sucks!

Here's my thing. Beyond knowing that the show added this adolescent-feeling conflict to the teacher storyline [h/t @thisonelikesaliens] that dragged down the pacing of the show (I'm genuinely upset that they decided to take away the opportunity for queer elder content!), the back third of this show was circular, slow, and felt intentionally time-waste-y. I do get wanting to leave things in a place to encourage a drive for season 2 (I'm assuming, since the director has been telling people to ask for s2 as per @bluesuns3t), but I also expect folks to leave season 1 in a satisfying place within that constraint, and for me this was not satisfying. The only thing we resolved is that Sheng Wang knows he has feelings Jiang Tian, which is a realization he's had for at least the last 3 episodes in a row.

And like I said, where we left them is such an awkward place; Jiang Tian knows something is up and is upset about it. Are we supposed to believe this awkward tension is going to exist through the end of their high school career unchallenged? Even though they still live together in the dorm? With everything we've seen between these two?! We saw how he reacted the last time Sheng Wang put up an invisible barrier between them.

Without Season 2 confirmed, I have to judge it on what we got: 8 great episodes of Grade-A excellent slow burn romance mixed with yearning, well-handled family trauma, some excellent visual metaphors, and school being treated as high stakes (which feels right for kids this age), followed by 4 episodes of wheel-spinning, window dressing, and an ending that feels unresolved and unsatisfying.

Obviously I want season 2, but I am both not counting on it and less excited if we get one than I would have been a few weeks ago.

#the on1y one #bl meta #typed so that i can stop thinking it

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sammyluvr · 18 hours

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you’d dance with me? — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, light angst, reader gets sort of stood up, alcohol, reader is tipsy, swearing, (not) unrequited love, barely edited, 1.4K words. requested ! for my 200+ followers event [ closed ]

prompt : telling them they deserve better (and silently wanting to be the one who gives it to them)

the man from the bar, james, isn’t your exact type. no one is except for sam, because you’re irrevocably in love with him. but since you can’t have him, and you’re dying to have a fun night without every second being consumed by thoughts of him, how much you love him, and how much you’re sure he doesn’t love you back, you turn to flirting with the nearest handsome single man.

and that means james. james has been nice enough and asked you to call him jamie, because “that’s what his friends call him.” dean gave you an impressed look as you walked past with “jamie” on your arm, and you winked at him, feeling playful and hopeful for a fun night after a tiring hunt. dean grinned back and sam barely gave any indication he noticed you before you settled at the bar and launched into a decently boring conversation with james about his corporate job and the fake life that you spin up for him.

that was over half an hour ago and it’s been at least twenty minutes since james excused himself to the bathroom with the promise that he’d be right back. you know he’s not coming back, but you stay rooted to your seat anyway.

it takes a few more minutes before sam appears, taking the previous man’s spot by your side.

“he left, didn’t he?” you ask, forlorn and not even bothering to look at sam as he settles next to you. sam cringes and nods. you sigh, not having to turn your head to see the movement through the corner of your eye as he confirms your suspicions. sam wonders if he should tell you that the asshole left with someone else. you deserve to know, but he’s hyperaware that it’ll only add to the sting.

he takes in the look on your face and the empty shot glass that you fiddle with, and he immediately knows that you’re much more upset by this than you normally would be. of course, the situation is completely shitty, for anyone, but on any other day, you’d probably brush it off by looking for someone better or heading back to sit with him and dean for some fun with them (if dean’s still around by then). today, you’re alone and at least an extra shot or two in since the guy left, likely making you more tipsy than you intended to get tonight. more than that, the frown on your lips is easy to see and read, far different from the smile you normally give him when you’re pretending not to care. tonight you don’t attempt hide it.

“you okay?” he finally asks. you sigh again and surprise him a bit by dropping your head on his shoulder. this kind of touch between the two of you isn’t abnormal, but these days it feels like you’re avoiding it a little, which sort of kills him. it takes you a moment to answer, but when you do, sam’s heart clenches.

“i just wanted to dance with someone tonight.” your voice is sad and candid from the removal of your filter by the alcohol in your system. for a moment, sam is blindingly angry with the asshole that stood you up, and he has to hold back a vehement curse before recentering his focus on you and the sad pull between your eyebrows. he just clenches his jaw and lets you say what you need to before he lets any of the million things he wants to tell you fall from his lips. “he said he’d dance with me when he got back… then he didn’t come back. d’you think it’s stupid i wanted to dance? think that’s why he left?”

now sam’s heart is plain-old breaking for you. he wants to ring the neck of the stupid man that made you question yourself like this, made your voice sound so dejected. then he wants to sweep you up in his arms and hold you close and kiss your forehead and tell you that it’s the sweetest, most endearing thing in the world that you want to dance. tell you that he’ll dance with you every night despite the fact that he can’t do much more than hold you and sway with you. tell you that he’s completely and enduringly in love with you. he discovered that recently, though he figures it’s been true for a long while now.

he has to settle for something a little more tame because you’re upset over another guy, because you’re a little tipsy, and because he can’t lose your friendships if those words don’t come across well.

sam puts his arm around your shoulders and you sink further into him. “if that’s why he left, he’s an idiot. anyone in their right mind would trip over their own feet to dance with you. no one in their right mind would leave you– someone like you, sitting here alone,” he says your name so soft and loving that he thinks he’s given himself away until he remembers you’re not picking up on everything right now, “he didn’t deserve you. you deserve a whole lot better than that ass.” i’d be so good to you, he thinks.

“yeah,” you agree, still sounding a little despondent.

“if you– if you still wanna dance, you’ve got a willing partner,” sam forges ahead, anything to make you smile.

“mm, where? james probably left with someone else, for all i know.” he doesn’t like that man’s name on your lips, and maybe you’re a little more drunk than he thought, because you’re not getting the hint as quickly as you normally would. if you were sober and trying not to act upset, you’d say that all with a playful tone to your voice to tease him for offering. right now, you just sound sort of unbelieving.

“you know,” sam responds, keeping his voice just as serious as yours instead of matching that tease like he normally would.

this time you let a bit of humor slip into your voice, but it’s still sort of pessimistic, “what? are you gonna drag dean away from whatever girl he’s found just to cheer up my sorry ass?” sam has to laugh a little at that thought, because it’s a silly image and almost funny how you refuse to see him as an option.

“your ass isn’t sorry,” sam smiles all soft when that pulls a half-hearted snort from you. his voice is still gentle as he finally says, “i’m right here, you know.”

when you tilt your head up to look at his face, and finally, finally, he gets your eyes on his, he almost melts to the floor. you’re looking at him, sweet and soft with your eyebrows pinched together like you’re not sure if he meant it. then there’s that little hint of hope and joy swimming around in the pretty pools of your eyes and it sets his heart afire, just like that. you’ve done just about nothing special, but to him you’ve done everything.

“you’d wanna dance with me?” you say it like you can’t believe it, like that’s exactly what you’d really been hoping for all night and it takes everything in sam’s power not to swoop down and kiss you right then and there. he’d wanna do a whole lot more than dance with you, but it’s a wonderful, glorious, honey-sweet way to start, he thinks.

“of course,” he grins at you, and that’s all it takes to pull a big smile over your features too. that’s just about everything sam could ever ask for, and it brings a flood of relief over him. he just can’t help himself when he asks, “that is, if you’d want to dance with me? i’m sure i’m not your ideal dancing partner for the night, but hopefully i’ll do.”

“of course i want to dance with you, sam,” you say, so blatantly honest that it makes his heart hurt, “and that’s not true.” you won’t explain what you mean by that, so sam stands with you and gladly lets you use him for balance. it’s not true that he’s not your ideal dancing partner? is that what you meant? he certainly hopes so, because that must mean, by default, he is your ideal dancing partner, and you wanted to dance with him tonight, not this awful james.

maybe you love him back a little, he hopes, as your wrap your arms around his middle and let him sway you back and forth, all gentle and smiling.

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eri-pl · 2 days

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Silm reread 20: the Rains of Casaremírë (AKA: the Fall of Doriath)

Morgoth is not tired being evil. Or satisfied. Generally he won't chill out. Also, he hates Melian&Thingol especially (but this text is from the Grey Annals. the Annals of Aman put Turgon as "Morgoth's main problem"). So, he directs Húrin at them.

Hurin is suspicious of being freed (good thinking!), but what can he do? Nothing. He leaves. Also, he is let out with a sword, which is… making sure that nobody will trust him and everyone will assume he is a thrall. Also, Morgoth's minions respect him.

[Ugh, this must have been really weird for Húrin. The self-doubt. Am I a thrall unknowingly?]

He is not, but he is followed. So, Gondolin. Turgon is doubtful at Thorondor. He changes his mind but too late, Húrin leaves. Oh, and he curses this area. (Yes, I will bold each time someone curses)

Morwen dies, depression and despair, he blames everyone.

A reference to a "seer and harper from Brethil". So, Men do have seers. I mean, I knew they do because Adanel iirc… but this wasn't fully canon… also that one prophecy is stupid and I will keep complaining about it…

Also, a mention of "the days of the wrath of the Valar" reshaping the shores, so the War of Wrath was named after the Valar's wrath? Who weren't even there personally? Huh.

Húrin kills Mîm, at the gate of Nargothrond. Interesting. Also, it is said that it's public knowledge who betrayed Túrin, so — oh wait. No. He knows that from Morgoth, not from gossip. OK. So I still have no idea whether Túrin knew.

Thingollo is polite and respectful, but Húrin offends him and accuses him of causing Finrod's death (he's not completely wrong) and of mistreating his wife and daughter + throws at him the Casaremírë (Nauglamir).

Thingollo is still polite and takes the offense calmly and kindly. <3

Melian dispells Morgoth's magic on Húrin, and he apologizes.

And gives the necklace to Thingollo anyway. Which ends up being a bad idea. Also, it wasn't his to give. the dragon stole it from Orodreth, Mîm stole it again, and Húrin, whose son had owed money to Mîm (because of his promise of weregild. And yes, I think this makes it … not more evil as a choice, because Húrin did not know, but more impactful, more problematic metaphysically) killed Mîm and stole it again.

And Thingollo (who knew Finrod and tbh should feel a little guilty about his death) instead of starting to think "hmm, who should inherit after Finrod now?" takes it. Which may be a culture thing tbh. It is medieval-ish-something world. You don't disrespect gifts by giving them away, you just take them. Maybe. I'm not an expert.

Still, he could have at least talked to Húrin about "you know, Finrod's family…". BTW is there any left? Orodreth dead, Finduilas dead…. Gil-Galad if he is Orodreth's son. Galadriel! OK, so there was someone.

Húrin allegedly maybe threw himself in the sea. Anyway he is out of our scope, one way or another.

So… It comes into Thingollo's mind to join two problematic pieces of treasure (a dragon-tainted, stolen necklace and a Silmaril) into one. Also, the Silmaril grows precious to him—

OK, sidenote. The Silmarils are not evil, but clearly they are too much for almost everyone. People either grow obsessed or die quickly. But not all people. Earendil surely didn't. I guess it depends on personality (the obsession) and on fate-type (the dying).

So, he can not keep it in the deepest part of his treasury anymore— wait, what? You kept the gem in a cage too? Silmarils need proper enviroment, they need light and space and enrichment! Thingollo, you are as bad as a Silmaril owner as Feanáro!

OK, I already made a post on this.

The Dwarves. They too get super obsessed and want the stuff: both the necklace made by their ancestors and the Silmaril. But they keep it in secret.

They finish their work, it's beautiful, another sort-of-confirmation that the Silmaril's own light is white (it reflecting in gems into various colors make it even more beautiful. So. It doesn't have many colors on its own.)

The Dwarves finally talk to Thingol, but not honestly, he realizes that they want the gem, gets overwhelmed by emotions (I imagine Thingol having a switch in his brain: "be polite to Men" <-> "be polite to Dwarves" but he can't do both for some reason and switching it takes a long time) and he mocks them. He provokes them, they are greedy, everyone is emotionally disregulated and should go have some quiet time, they kill him and escape with the treasure.

We get an epitaph for Thingollo, canon confirmation that marrying Maiar is not a thing (except Thingol) and the last thing he looks at before death is the Silmaril.

I have a feeling that Námo will have some words to tell you, my guy. Not as many as to others, but still. Not great.

Anyway, Elves chase the Dwarves and kill most of them, the Dwarves tell a not-entirely-false-but-not-too-true-either story of what happenned to their kinsmen, they go to war.

Melian meditates, we get a flashback. She knows Doriath will soon fall, because the Girdle is now gone, because… ok, let's start this from the beginning.

So this is really cool but also pretty unique in terms of fantasy tropes. When Melian married Thingol, she accepted... ok, I need this in English.

For Melian was of the divine race of the Valar, [...] for love of Elwë Singollo she took upon herself the form of the Elder Children of Ilúvatar, and in that union she became bound by the chain and trammels of the flesh of Arda.

So the marriage is what's tying her to her material form (she had taken it at will back then but now, with Valinor being closed and all that I feeel like she normaly wouldn't be able to do it in ME, she was only able to be there embodied because the marriage to Thingol sort of anchored her)

In that form she bore to him Lúthien Tinúviel; and in that form she gained a power over the substance of Arda, and by the Girdle of Melian was Doriath defended through long ages from the evils without. But now Thingol lay dead, and his spirit had passed to the halls of Mandos; and with his death a change came also upon Melian.

So. Only the fact of being anchored to matter gave her the ability to keep the Girdle up. I know some Maiar can do things with matter anyway, but as I said, I suppose it's either a) because they're evil and/or b) because a Vala let them do it … in general, they are bound by something. And regardless of how the other Maiar do it, Melian lost the ability to keep the Girdle.

Thus it came to pass that her power was withdrawn in that time from the forests of Neldoreth and Region, and Esgalduin the enchanted river spoke with a different voice, and Doriath lay open to its enemies.

[Thank you, Reddit, for having all the quotes I need!]

Again, the "it came to pass" strongly suggests to me that it's not something she did, it's something that happenned to her as part of her nature.

Also, she removes herself, and goes to mourn in Lorien and is out of the story. (I'm sure they get back togetherwhen Thingol was reembodied — and that he was— and no matter how the canon feels about this I want them to have more children, who just live in Valinor in this slightly odd social position of "not a Maia but not fully not-a-Maia" and genrally have some happiness and low-stakes family drama)

The Dwarves invade, all Doriath is confused, Mablung dies protecting the Silmaril (still, he seems quite normal about it for someone who touched it twice).

Also "it's the saddest of all sad events of the Old Days" — seriously, Grey Annals? Again, for AoA it would be Tears Unnumbered. I should enjoy the diversity of opinions in the text. But I don't. It sounds like the authors are arguing with each other.

Dior and Nimloth mentioned, but that's all. On one hand, we were told that B&L never spoke to the living after their reembodiment. On the other, they do have a son and, it seems, a company. Who raised Dior? Like, who spoke with him?

Is it silent spooky B&L surrounded by a company of Elves who behave normally? Or do they live separately, in a distance and gave dior to be taught bu the Elves who live on this island, but separately from them? I can't imagine it.

Or is the "spoke to no one" thing just poetic exageration?

Hmm.. in chapter 20 only Beren is mentioned and it says "no mortal spoke to him" which may mean just Men. I'm not sure. Anyway this is weird and seems somwhat incoherent.

Anyway, the news spread quickly in the forest (how? Mycoryzal networks?) so Beren learns more or less what happenned and he and Dior go to the rescue (such is the wording in my book. So I guess they assumed there Dwarves were still attacking someone or intending to. Makes sense.) A big group of Green Elves joins them.

They ambush the Dwarves (Huh. Ambush. When Nargothrond did it, it was dishonorable... Huh. I think there is a lot in this story remaining from the older versions, back when the Dwarves were evil, or at least evil-ish and not deserving the full human Eruhini rights. Because technically they are not. Anyway. I do not like the inconsistent attitude about ambushes.) Also, the Ents help them. So i guess it is a good fight or at least Yavanna supports it (could you, please, respect your husband's children a bit more?), or at least the trees think Beren is cool.

This is weird. And seems off. And I will assume it is a part of text that Tolkien didn't fully update to the last version of his lore.

Beren killd Dwarf king (chieftain? whatever we call him), the king curses the whole Doriath treasure.

Aaaaand Beren looks at Feanor's gem with fascination. Here we go again. And washes it clean of blood in the river. (I considered adding a RoP gif here but let's not slabder Beren. still, bad vibe.)

At least he's got enough common sense to drown the rest of the treasure. But not this one. (A pity. Feanorians would fish it out, Deagol&Smeagol-style and be happy. Or something.)

He brings the Casaremírë+Silmaril to Lúthien, and she's so pretty in it. And amazing. And the land is fertile and full of light and looks like Valinor.

So…. why do they keep the Silmaril? For Beren, I think it's the standard "it's pretty, Luthien has suffered so much [chose mortal life and all that], she deserves it". Or maybe even "I deserve some beauty for all my pain", but i don't think he goes this low. It's just … slightly less than perfect attitude. "My loved ones deserve some beauty after all they suffered so I am going to give it to them". Also, why would he want to give it to Feanorians, who tried to kill him and threatened Thingol. (And fought a really bad battle but whatever)

No matter how much you love the Feanorians, please remember that this is a simple forest guy, ok, taught by the Sindar, but still. He probably knows nothing about the Oath, never met the Feanorians, has no idea of their mental state and their anguish, and not necessarily internalizes the whole "they are fighting Morgoth and dying on it" part.

Characters do have limited knowledge and did not read the book.

But… yes, I think him taking the jewel was not the best choice.

Lúthien? That's trickier. I think if she knew how much it means for the Feanorians, she would give it to them, because look how she told Beren to not kill Celegorm (or was that Curufin?). So either she knows that Silmaril+Feanorians = bad idea, for some reason (from Melian. Because foresight. But this would require Melian's foresight to change its opinion on the matter at some point, which we have no information about).

Maybe she just trusted that Beren knows what he's doing and didn't want to refuse his gift? And she had no idea how this looks for the Feanorians (remember, very likely nobody knows about the Oath, and it seems like the Feanorians told Thingol "it is ours" and "we will consider you our enemy" as their only reasons).

Melian advised Thingol to give the Silmaril back, but was Lúthien even present at this conversation? Or if she was, maybe her own foresight told her that this advice applied to Thingol then but not to her now?

Seriously, with how Lúthien is presented, I can't imagine her keeping the Silmaril if she believed that that Melian would advise against it or how much it means for the Feanorians. She seems to me a very compassionate person, and one who cares about her mothers opinions.

On the other hand, is Lúthien wearing the Silmaril such a bad thing? It came from Beren's not-great decision, but with how it's written, I don't think it's unilaterally bad. The Feanorians do not have a problem with it, or at least do not attack her (out of fear), the land is beautiful and sure this sounds egoistical, but maybe a brief moment of bliss was necessary? The Silmaril spent many years with Morgoth, then in Thingollo's treasury (why do they all keep them locked?!? i have thoughts about it. anyway) and is now sad. Yes, they do canonically have feelings. I don't think it's corrupted, but it is sad. Maybe it needs to recharge, before it will be able to become the star of hope.

I have no idea but I think like this year should contribute something positive. Otherwise the story feels odd and incoherent again. Or, at beast, feels like Tolkien … I'm not sure how to phrase it. Very slightly betrayed his story for a moment of nostalgia? The thing that the Valar did when they made Valinor. Settled for a known happiness of the past over … something? unknown?

OK, end of very speculatory ramblings, back to the reading.

And this is the moment when Dior decides to leave his parents. I think he wants to help the Elves in Doriath organize and rebuild. He is their king, after all. Still it's an interesting contrast: the island becomes a paradise and Dior leaves. I think it speaks well of him. He goes to work, putting duty above "mom pretty with shiny rock". And he restores Doriath successfully.

He gets the Silmaril, looks at it for a long time (unclear if this is bad looking or normal looking), mourns his parents, then puts on the necklace and becomes the most beautiful guy ever, even counting the Maiar. (dear authors of the Grey Annals, someone would lik a talk with you. He said his name is Mairon.)

Gossip starts… How is the gossip among Elves so effective and fast, with their numbers decreased by all the wars?

Anyway gossip, and the Feanorians. (+ a confirmation that no Elf would fight Lúthien). They send messangers to Dior, who does not answer. that's weird. What is his mental process at this point? Is Dior even socialized properly?

He could say "ok, but give me some time to mourn", or "no, you jerks, you attacked my parents and now dare to make demands" or many other things, but he does not answer. (Or is it: the Polish translation strikes again)

It must have been weird. Also: poor messangers. What a stressful job. :(

Instead of thinking "maybe we should wait till he grows up more" or "maybe we should talk to him in person", C&C get the bright idea of "let's kill them all as we told Thingollo we would do!"

And so they do.

And so they die.

Both sides lose (Doriath is destroyed with only a few survivors, but the Feanorians still have zero Silmarils, but now they have 3 dead brothers), so I guess Morgoth wins, but not really, because he doesn't get this Silmaril either and this will come to bite him later.

#silm #silmarillion #tolkien legendarium #the silm #the silmarillion #silm reread #doriath #fall of doriath #second kinslaying #elu thingol #elwe thingollo #i'm going to do half-and-half with the naming becasue i respect both my friend who calls him thingollo and the guy's own language #i can't learn to use a consistent naming convention :P #melian #beren and luthien #celegorm #curufin #doriath discourse #but please let's not do too much discourse

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stuckinthedeadlights · 6 months

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In E1 of The Terror Goodsir tells David to call back to them after he dies to tell them where the passage is

In E9 when Goodsir gets David's ring he thought buried with him back we see Blanky find the passage

#the terror #the terror amc #like its probably not related but it does have this feeling of #oh #hes done it #because the promise is being followed again #because david asks him to take it and get it home to his sister #but goodsir hadn't been able to even try since he forgot to take it off before the autopsy #dana rambles

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chaoticbuggybitchboy · 3 months

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Dino dance party cause it’s all gonna be okay and life is worth living

#gif #chaoticbuggybitchboy #idk if this is because I’m entering a manic episode or if just because my life is genuinely better (could be both)#but like chat imma be a grownup soon #chat it’s gonna b okay life is worth living it gets better #<- it gets better I fucking promise it does #Ik younger teens be following me here:#you will not be 12 13 14 15 16 forever #you will not be trapped in the hell of ‘expected to be an adult while being treated as a child’ forever #have whatever fun you can and just exist and don’t worry so much #also I’m exploding like. half yalls parents w my mind #<- btw when you grow up you can move out and just never talk to them again that’s allowed

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cxpperhead · 10 months

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Copperhead takes time to warm up to people. In his experience, most people cannot see past his appearance and treat him differently, be it with thinking he's creepy or worse, thinking him an animal due to his serpentine looks. Copperhead is okay with the latter; people who assume his intelligence is low or that he doesn't 'experience feelings' like a human only makes it all the easier to take them by surprise when they underestimate him so badly.

#🐍 || musings #🐍 || headcanons #He experiences this a lot #Moreso people finding him 'creepy' which is fine by him #He doesn't trust people easily and is fine with whatever they think so long as they pay him for his services #Those who try to play him or give them less than what he agreed to will pay for it another way #It's funny because he will be so quiet and let them assume he's not as intelligent as he actually is #When really he's taking everything in and judging the fuck out of them #One of the few things he's thankful for in having a hard time expressing himself facially is that he can feel rage but look calm af #Which is another thing that's creepy about him because he just can't make the same facial expressions ordinary humans do #And a lot of people naturally assume that because he can't show it then he can't feel it #No eyebrows to indicate surprise or incredulousness #No ability to blink so can avoid any tells that excessive blinking would indicate #No blushing because scales #Can't really blame people for finding him uncanny but it is what it is #I'm feeling a bit better again but I have the hospital in a few hours so gonna catch a quick nap #I have two days off but otherwise I'm working damn near every day until New Year so maybe I can eke out something #Thank you all for being so wonderfully patient with my stupid ass #And thank you to new followers also I promise I am not ignoring you I'm just having a tough time lately #Bless you Chrome for inspiring this thought #I needed distractions tonight x

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ladye-zelda · 7 months

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I saw your tags from the post a while ago about how the small details in totk Make up for the main story, and while I agree, I gotta say that the things some people say about the story being bare bones or whatever (and BOTW’s story to that extent) just…doesn’t make sense to me. Because I think the problem is with the execution rather than the writing. Like, BOTW was even more bare bones,because it was just a bunch of exposition. Not to say the story wasn’t good because it absolutely is, but it was minimal, imo. Anyway I said all that to say that I personally do think that totk has the better story, but the execution is worse and I think the open world format hurts it. And I think if people could look past that they could see how good it is. But of course that’s all just me. Neither game’s story is particularly great but I love them both. Anyway I did not intend for this to get so long but what do you think about that? I’m just curious 🙂

Sorry this took me a while to respond anon, I was trying to think of a way to respond XD

Yeah, I can definitely agree that the open world aspect hurts the story of Tears. I was thinking about this earlier, and I think Breath of the Wild's story worked because it is so barebones. The developers were able to develop the story around the gameplay, which has always been Nintendo's adjective for both of these games (and probably all of their games, though I am not too much on an expert on that in all honesty) first and foremost. And it worked, for the most part.

I do believe there can be no "perfect" Zelda game, and especially not one that can appease all Zelda fans (even the games that everyone praises to be perfect has their haters, though I guess hate is too strong of a word). I think the main downfall of Tears of the Kingdom was that it couldn't live up to fan's expectations and wants for the Zelda franchise. Tears of the Kingdom was always meant to be BotW+, since the developers had so many ideas for Breath of the Wild they had to make a second game in order to fit all of those ideas, which led to them repeating the same gameplay mechanics as Breath of the Wild.

Don't get me wrong, TotK's gameplay is good since it what made Breath of the Wild good as well, but because it's exactly like Breath of the Wild is what made it sour in the minds of players. I guess for the players who played other kinds of games in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom allowing them time to do something else, it isn't so bad. But for the players who play nothing but Zelda games or who were late into getting into the Zelda franchise (such as myself) it can be a little... repetitive (and I'm mainly talking about the quests, shrines, and the same mechanic of unlocking a terminal in a dungeon found in both botw and totk). Hence why I was so drawn all to the other world discoveries not unlocked by doing a side quest, which I think is the greatest improvement TotK brought imo.

In terms of TotK's story... I don't hate it exactly, but I will say I will prefer BotW's better. I still kind of need to analyze the story of TotK fully for myself to draw any real conclusions for me; my biggest problem is how it completely erases BotW's story from it's story. Sure, half a dozen years has passed in between games (both in-game and irl) but surely the impact of defeating the Calamity would've left something... bigger. Like, wouldn't word have gone around that Link was the one to have defeated the darkness looming the castle? They could've at least acknowledged him directly instead of pulling a Tony Hawk and saying "oh you have the same name as that guy who defeated that evil some time ago". I will give them the benefit of the doubt, but then again everyone knows Zelda and he has never her side so, ???. Sorry, didn't mean to rant there. It was kind of a frustration I felt along with many others while playing the game. Main story-wise I don't have any real issues other than you're seriously telling me that there was another ancient civilization before the previous civilization that had even more ancient technology? It kind of pushes my suspension of disbelief (and once again repeating things from BotW).

Anyways, thank you for sharing your opinion anon! Once again I am immensely sorry it took me this long to come to it; tldr in my opinion I prefer Breath of the Wild's story over TotK's. You do make a lot of good points that I agree with, but I think it boils down to personal preference over which game is better due to how similar the games are, which can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on opinion.

Thank you so much for reaching out and discussing this with me!

#the ladye answers #amazing anon!!!#despite being fine with what we have for totk I do kind of have some ideas on how to improve it #though I do like how totk answered some questions that we had for botw (mainly the 8th heroine story)#but I think it would've been better if it followed the traditional zelda formula of having sequels set in a different place #or if it was just set in the ancient past from the start #I think it would've fixed the open world story aspect #like it could still be open world but in the ancient past #it would present an interesting way because now you're living in the story instead of have it all have already happened in the past #just like in botw and totk #idk again that's an opinion of mine but i think it would made me enjoy totk a bit more #right now I think I'm just feeling a bit meh from it due to experiencing burnout #tears of the kingdom #totk #totk spoilers #totk discussion #also sorry if this doesn't make any sense; feel free to send another ask for clarification #I promise I'll get to that one sooner XD

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