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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 11 hours ago

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WED. WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONEEEEEE I’M GOING TO CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP THINKING ABOUT COWBOY JOEL 😭

I WANT HIM I NEED HIM I LOVE HIM

You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

He’s totally smitten, Jesus Christ 🫠

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

Dude, it wasn’t the snoring, it was your brother’s big cock 😏

“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”

Yeah, she’s me 🥲

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

Awww, the way she’s such a softie for Blue, so on brand for me, it’s just a different animal but the way she treats him is basically the same I treat my babygirl Brienne 🥹

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

This is such a beautiful sentence and so true, ugh my heart ❤️

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

And here’s another poetic image I love so much 🥲 God, how you even came up with this sentence, it’s so perfect

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

Awwww please, giggling and kicking my feet 🥹

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

You looked into my head and wrote that, right? WTF 😭

He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”

He’s so precious, I can’t even stop, I’m YEARNING

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

Joel is exactly this for me, my rock, my loyal guy, my everything 🥹

His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.

OMG 😭🫠

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but smile.

JESUS FUCK ❤️‍🔥

Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.

Look how I’m going to cry for smut, just wait for it, this is so perfect 🥲🥲🥲

You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.

Ok, I want this or nothing, it's the sexiest thing in the world

He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.

The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.

This is so fucking HOT, he’s so desperate, I’m going insane 🥵🥵🥵

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

🫠🫠🫠

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

Yes, please, I need this right now

“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.

You take me like it’s what you’re meant for… I JUST CAN’T WHY HE’S LIKE THAT ❤️‍🔥

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

You can stay inside me 24/7, I don’t mind, I’m going to live the rest of my life with you inside.

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

OH MY GOD PLS 🫠

Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

He’s so damn cute 🥹

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

oh please, with you by my side I could look at a landfill and find it romantic, I’m not even joking

The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest.

Awwww OMG I’m going insaneeee

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.

Again, this is so damn cute, so on brand for Joel. He provides, he protects, he’s the man I love and I need 😭

You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.

Heheheheheh 🥰

He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”

Yas, baby 🥹

Awww, this made me so full of love and content, it was exactly what I needed!

And I love that you wrote a softer Joel, he’s so damn perfect, he made me all fuzzy and stupidly happy awww he’s so precious 🥹❤️

This will definitely become one of my comfort fics, you did an amazing job and I loved everything, these two are incredible characters and your writing??? Excuse me, miss, are you trying to kill me, make me so aroused I can’t even stand it and make me cry all at once? 😭❤️‍🔥

Thanks for sharing your art with us!

right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part two

wc: 9k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART ONE HERE summary: part two of 'right kind of dream': rebuilding your life, chasing, cans, and hitchin' a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

a/n: i battled five million error messages to deliver this bad boy so if something is weird or it seems like paragraphs are missing... they might be. i think some formatting got lost. i'll put the whole thing on ao3 asap. i am unsure what i've done to anger the tumblr hq but i apologize

@katiexpunk : here is part two, thank you for being patient, i hope the wait was worth it <3 tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin' that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta-mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am and for spending the afternoon fighting god to get this website to accept me thanks to: @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, and @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, and ideas, etc.

Joel wakes you up while it’s still dark, pulling your shirt over your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he mutters in a gravelly whisper.

The ache in your body is a stark reminder of everything Joel did to you. Every movement as you roll over sends a sharp jolt through your muscles, and the hollow soreness deep inside you leaves you raw.

For a moment, you lie still, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment—the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You can still feel him, the shape he carved out inside of you.

He said nothing. He didn’t gloat, didn’t tease, didn’t even try to explain. The silence felt heavier than any of his words ever could.

You can hear him outside, feeding the horses. You give in, curling up under the blanket for another hour until you figure you might miss your chance for fresh coffee from the visitor tent.

You pull on clothes, feeling hungover with anxiety twisting in your gut. Your head spins and your chest feels tight, but you march toward the picnic tables and get yourself coffee and breakfast.

You aren’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You sit at a table, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, your head pounding as though you’d downed a bottle of whiskey the night before. The anxiety sits heavy in your chest, each sip of coffee doing little to loosen its grip.

You glance across the grounds, your eyes catching on Joel’s familiar silhouette near the fence. He’s leaning against the rail, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but the moment his gaze lands on you, something shifts.

Your breath catches, the air between you thick and suffocating even from across the distance. Joel tips his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but it only tightens the knot in your chest.

You tear your eyes away, focusing on the coffee in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingers, pressing into you like a brand.

You keep your distance, avoiding Joel as you move through the motions of the morning ignoring the questions and confusion gnawing at you.

The sun climbs higher, the dry heat pressing down like a heavy blanket, but the rodeo grounds are alive with movement. Dust clings to the back of your throat, blending with the faint, bitter taste of coffee as you linger near the edge of the action, pretending to watch.

You’re halfway to convincing yourself Joel’s not even here when you hear Tommy’s voice. He’s leaning on the fence, one boot propped on the bottom rail, his arm resting loosely on the top. A beautiful woman stands beside him, gorgeous with bold makeup and tight jeans, her dark hair catching the light. She laughs at something Tommy says, swatting at his chest, and he grins down at her like she’s the only person in the world.

You almost keep walking, but Tommy glances up and catches your eye, his grin widening as he waves you over. He calls your name in an easy, smooth tone.

“Morning,” you say stiffly, stopping a few paces away.

The woman glances between you and Tommy, murmuring something to him before she wanders off toward the trailers. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, tipping his hat to you with that same infuriating grin.

“You sleep alright?”

“What?” you gape at him before rushing to fix your face.

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No, slept fine. Thanks.”

He gives you another smile, and you move to lean on the fence watching the arena with him. He cocks his head, his eyes still on you.

“You worried about runnin’ Blue?” His voice is warm and light. His dark eyes sparkle with his natural charm, but it’s a genuine question.

You peel the edge of the paper coffee cup, looking past Tommy toward the warmup pen. “Yeah, I guess.” You give him a half smile. “We aren’t gunning for the NFR or anything, though.”

“Somethin’ else weighing on you, darlin’?”

You shake your head. Not willing to reveal anything else. “Heard you were up late partying with the roughstock boys and their fan club,” you accuse in a joking tone, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You aren’t worried about your own round?”

He laughs deeply at that. “Nah, that’s what a heeler’s for,” he says. “I just gotta be in the box on time. Joel’s the one that keeps us winnin’.”

“He’s not a partier?” You didn’t mean to dig, but the question slipped out anyway.

Tommy turns his head towards you, but you keep staring out at the arena, watching the crew setting up the barrels for the first division.

He studies you for a long moment, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “Joel’s not like me. Not really.” Your brow furrows. The words twist in your chest, setting your thoughts spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy chuckles again, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Let’s just say, Joel’s always had his head screwed on tighter than mine. Even when he didn’t.” You stare at him, trying to unravel the meaning behind his words, but Tommy just grins. “Joel’s a loyal kinda guy, y’know? Don’t mean he’s blind, though.” He gives you a wink and you feel heat flooding your face. “Just means he wrestles with it longer than the rest of us would.” You scowl at him for that. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Did Joel tell him? Does he know what happened? He shrugs. “Just means you’re a hell of a distraction,” Tommy says, tipping his hat. You laugh it off, but his words linger, your mind racing with questions you’re not ready to ask. You whip your head away again as if staring at the tractor raking the arena can save you from the conversation. But Tommy notices.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or prod, but you can feel the weight of his gaze as you swallow hard, your thoughts spiraling. Before you can respond, someone calls his name from across the grounds. Tommy tips his hat one last time. “Good luck out there, neighbor,” he says, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “Don’t let that head of yours get in the way.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone, your thoughts spinning, your chest burning. You push off the fence and find yourself a spot on the bleachers. They’re dusty and worn. The boards creak as you settle into a spot near the edge. You watch the first few runs.

The riders move with precision, their horses cut through the dirt with sharp, clean turns. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling names and times, but it fades into the background as you watch.

Everywhere you look, there’s something that reminds you of Joel.

The set of someone’s shoulders as they lean against the fence, the low timbre of a voice nearby, a black felt hat in the corner of your eye. You try to banish the worry and the panic creeping in.

You remember the way he watched you train with Blue. The way he offered advice that sounded more like a challenge. The way his voice cut through the air like he knew more than you. The way he looked at you last night. The raw unguarded expression you’ve never seen before.

You hate the way he makes you feel small and uncertain. You hate the way you can’t stop thinking about him.

You can’t stop remembering the way his hands felt on your skin or his tongue. The heat in his voice and the way he saw through every lie you told.

The sound of someone hitting the dirt makes you snap your head up just as the crowd around you gasps.

In the arena, a horse stands, saddle hanging nearly sideways off of it. A rider scrambles to their feet, brushing dirt from their jeans with a wave. They lead their horse out of the arena and you can hear folks around you murmuring that their latigo broke and their saddle slipped as they turned for home. The horse and the rider are both fine, but your nerves flare.

You know the risks of the sport. But it makes you head back to the trailer early to inspect all of your tack closely for anything faulty. From across the grounds, Joel watches you. He stands near the holding pen, arms crossed over his chest. You haven’t seen him yet. Not really. Not in the way he sees you.

He can feel the tension in your shoulders as you walk, the way you crush the paper coffee cup in your hand.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out to you.

He doesn’t trust himself to. He shouldn’t have touched you last night. Shouldn’t have let his jealousy boil over. Shouldn’t have taken it that far. But now, standing here, all he could think about was the way you felt underneath him. The way you said his name like he was the only thing holding you together. And the way he needs to hear it again.

By the time your division gets called to warm up, you’ve eased your worries about your tack but you’re still swimming in Joel thoughts until you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on Blue’s back.

Then the rest of the world disappears. Your ride starts off smooth, but Blue’s sensitivity is a curse and a blessing. You figure he must be picking up on some anxiety as he gets a little hot, tossing his head and pulling on the reins when you try to bring him down to a jog.

You work out most of the kinks, circling and working on transitions until he feels supple and responsive to your seat and legs. Your nerves and the energy of the other horses still have his ears swiveling and his head perked up as you wait for the rider ahead of you to be called.

You can see most of their run, it’s smooth and they put up a good time. You squeeze your calves asking Blue to head toward the alleyway, but he’s springloaded.

You hold him back as he crow hops sideways for a beat before you’re backing him up. You try making a slow circle before heading in but he’s still jigging with short, bouncy steps like he’s ready to explode.

You’re tense, holding him back and trying to stay calm, making one more circle when he starts hopping again. You can feel eyes on you from the people standing near the gate. Before you can make another circle Joel is striding towards you with swift long steps.

He grabs Blue by the bridle, speaking directly to him in a calming, low voice. You glare at him reactively, but the words die before you can formulate them.

Blue’s jittering slows and Joel leads you up the alley toward the arena. His steps are sure and confident as he guides you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him and tell him you don’t need his help. The truth is you do.

“Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, turning to you.

You gather your reins, giving him a tight nod to signal you’re ready. He lets go and steps back. Your heart pounds as you encourage Blue to push off into a lope.

The moment you cross the starting line, everything else fades.

The noise. The nerves. Even Joel. It all melts away. Just you and Blue and the rhythm of his hooves pounding against the soft dirt.

The first barrel comes fast. You guide him into a tight turn, pushing him to pick it up toward the next. His lead change is smooth as you shift your weight, leaning into the next tight turn. You’ve got your body facing the final barrel before Blue pushes off with his powerful hind legs.

You thunder toward the last barrel. His strides are strong and controlled. You’ve just gotta make this last turn without taking it too wide or knocking the barrel over.

Blue doesn’t forget his training, bending around your leg, picking up his shoulder, and you’ve got one stride left in the turn before you’re free to haul ass home.

You’ve got this.

You don’t got this.

The footing is deeper than the arena you run at on Thursday nights. Blue’s hooves slide in the loose dirt. His balance faltering. Time slows and you feel his weight tipping. There’s nothing to do but brace for the impact. His body hits the dirt in a controlled, almost graceful fall.

You hit the ground with a dull thud, the breath knocked out of you as you scramble back giving Blue room to pop back up. He shakes off the dirt, your stirrups slapping at his side and the reins nearly coming over his ears. His eyes are wide, but he stands waiting for your direction.

You catch your breath, chest still heaving from the shock. You dust the dirt off your jeans and wave off the grounds person jogging toward you. “I’m fine,” you call. “We’re fine.” Your voice is steady, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You pull his reins over his head and walk toward the end of the arena, keeping your head up and patting Blue on the neck. The crowd claps expressing support and relief that you’re both walking.

Hot, angry tears blur your vision by the time you get to the alley.

You don’t see Joel, staring at the ground as you walk, but you hear him hustling toward you calling your name. His boots crunch against the dirt as he matches your pace.

“You okay?” he asks, low and concerned.”

“Fine,” you snap, not looking at him as you speed up, pulling Blue along faster.

“It was a good-looking run you had going,” Joel says, his tone soft. “You two looked great, making good time. You can’t help the shitty footing—”

“I don’t need your pity,” you cut him off, sharp but trembling. “Not now.”

You don’t see the way his face tightens. The anger is spilling out, uncontrollable, and you don’t care if it cuts.

“Hey, easy.” He tries to interrupt you gently, like a spooked horse. “Nothing like that.”

“You think I’m dumb, too?” You keep jabbing him with questions as you get closer to the trailer, not caring if anyone else hears. “Just another woman that fell into your bed at another rodeo.”

“Enough,” Joel says steady and low, but you don’t hear him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” you snap, your voice cracking. “Didn’t think they were true, to be honest. Didn’t seem like you. Guess I don’t really know you though, do I?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes flashing with hurt, but you’re too far gone to notice.

“You know, maybe I was stupid.” Your voice shakes as tie Blue at the trailer to untack. “But for a while, I thought I was finally starting to feel like myself out here. Like I was where I was supposed to be. And now—” Your words catch in your throat. Tears streaming down your face. You shake your head, stopping yourself from revealing anything else. You turn away from Joel and start running your hands along Blue’s legs to check for any swelling from the fall.

Joel doesn’t move for a long beat. He stands rigid, watching you wrestle with your emotions as you work. Finally, Joel exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. His voice is tight when he speaks. “I’ll leave you be.”

He walks away before you can respond, his footsteps heavy against the dirt. Your shoulders sag as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind the hollow ache of exhaustion. Your hands tremble as you finish untacking and brushing Blue, but you keep moving, your touch soft against his sweat-damp coat. “You did nothing wrong,” you murmur.

Fresh tears pool in your eyes. “You’re a good boy, Blue. You did exactly what we practiced.” Blue snorts softly, his ears flicking back toward you, and you lean into him, pressing your forehead against the warm curve of his neck. “I was the one who fucked up,” you admit, your words muffled against his dark coat. The truth spills out in quiet, broken pieces.

“I should’ve been watching the other riders closer this morning. Should’ve caught how deep the footing was at the far barrel.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “Instead of thinking about how I could still feel his hands on me. Or wondering if he’s thinking about me.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Blue shifts beneath you, his weight leaning into your side like he knows you need the grounding.

You pull back, wiping at your face quickly before running your hands over Blue one more time, checking for any swelling or signs of injury. You move methodically, your touch steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

The afternoon stretched on at the rodeo, the sun climbing high and unrelenting.

You do your best to avoid the temptation to look for Joel, though he somehow has a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mostly it was false alarms and your eyes playing tricks on you. But once or twice you saw him watching other events. He never seemed to notice you, or if he did he gave no indication.

You hadn’t decided if you were avoiding him out of anger, shame, or if it was because the thought of being near him again after last night still made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to examine. You’re still burying that last thought somewhere deep when you catch the flash of Joel’s red mare striding through the arena.

You can see Joel and Tommy putting their horses through some practice just past the main arena.

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch them. Joel has a different aura about him when he’s in the saddle. He seems lighter somehow. Relaxed, but with a quiet command. He guides his horse in a way that looks effortless. His body moving in perfect harmony with hers. Tommy’s horse was a little snappier, making quick sharp turns. The pair of riders worked together naturally, movements fluid and precise as they get their practice in.

It was mesmerizing. Infuriatingly so.

You leaned back, trying to tear your gaze away, but your eyes betrayed you, drawn back to continue admiring him. The longer you watch the more it stirs up something unwelcome in your chest. You can’t keep letting him occupy so much space in your mind or your memories.

He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t respect you. He didn’t even argue when you laid it all out in your outburst after your run. He just walked away from you.

But there’s something in the way he carries himself. Something in the way he rides, the way he works with his horse, that hints at something different than what you know. Something that makes you curious.

You blink, realizing Joel’s head was turned toward the bleachers. For a second you think his eyes are on you and you quickly look away. When you glance back he’s already turned his attention back to something else.

Embarrassment wraps around your throat. This is why you had to avoid him. His presence alone seems to demand every ounce of your attention without even trying.

Before you can drown in your own emotional turmoil, an unfamiliar voice calls your name.

You see Cody waving a few rows down and give him a polite smile before agreeing to join him and his friends. Spending the rest of the evening with them feels like a safety buffer.

You don’t see Joel or Tommy when you get dinner. You watch some of the evening events before splitting from the group to check on Blue.

It’s nearly dark as you walk through the grounds. Your chest feels tighter with every step you take as you approach.

You’re hoping you don’t run into Joel—or Tommy and his knowing eyes. You let yourself into the pen, the noise from the announcer and the crowd are muffled by the distance.

There was a stillness in the dusk and the horses were calm.

Blue’s head swivels toward you as you approach. You pause to untie the braid in his tail before stepping between him and Joel’s horse. It’s not until that moment that you realize you aren’t alone. You freeze when your eyes land on Joel. He’s standing between his horse and yours, posture relaxed. The external light on the horse trailer casts shadows over his face making it hard to read his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say softly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He responds with a small shrug and shake of his head. “Nothing to interrupt.”

You still feel frozen, like concrete had been poured around your feet. You’ve been carrying the weight of your earlier outburst in your shoulders, and the rest of your muscles are still stiff from hitting the dirt earlier. Maybe that’s why your defenses feel lower, or maybe something else has shifted, but the next words come out before you have a real plan.

“Look, about earlier,” you start with more confidence than you feel. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, gaze fixed on Blue who huffs a warm breath out after nudging Joel’s pocket in search of a treat. When he finally speaks, it’s quiet but firm.

“You had every right to be upset.”

You frown at that, a line pulling between your brows in confusion, and you shake your head. “No, I didn’t. I was angry, frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He works his jaw like he’s mulling something over, before letting out a sigh. You move closer to give Blue a scratch under his jaw. The spot that always makes him wiggle his lip. You see Joel’s expression softening.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says finally. “Trying to rebuild somethin’ when it feels like the world’s stacked against you. Trying to remember who you are. What matters most.”

You tilt your head, curiosity pulling at you. His words sound familiar for a moment. That conversation you’d had after stacking hay. “When you bought the property from my dad?”

He nods. “Bought the place after my ex split. Had to sell the business. Start over. Build somethin’ from scratch while trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like.”

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” you echo your past statement. He laughs a short, humorless sound.

“Sure ain’t. I know I made mistakes along the way.”

You stay quiet, letting the words hang in the air.

“It’s easy to get yourself a reputation in a small town,” he continues, tinged with regret. “I spent a while chasing somethin’ I couldn’t even name. Thought I could skip the pain with sex, drinking, and spending every weekend hauling to any rodeo I could afford the entrance fees for.”

His confession sinks over you, and you feel a pang of understanding.

“Took a while to figure it that it wasn’t working. Wasn’t who I was… or who I wanted to be.”

“I get that,” you say softly. You drop your gaze, not quite sure how to say it. “Not the same circumstances, but,” you take a slow breath, “I had a reputation back at my old job. It wasn’t true but it didn’t matter. Once people decide who you are, it’s like there’s nothing you can do to change it.

You feel his eyes on you. “That why you came out here?”

“Sort of.” You run your hand under Blue’s mane, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you.

“Hated the job. Spent a lot of time and money in school to get there, and I dreaded going to the office every day.” You swallow thickly, still not sure you can look Joel in the eye.

“Then my engagement fell apart. The more we tried to split up our lives the more I realized none of it was my life. None of it was me. I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what mattered.”

“Takes guts to start over,” Joel says with a current of finality about it. Like it’s a fact. “Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.”

His words warm something deep inside of you, but they also make your eyes well up. You blink away the tears before you look to Joel’s face. His eyes are steady on yours. You offer a small smile.

“Feels less like guts and more like desperation most of the time.”

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

A heavy lump in your throat makes it difficult to respond, but you push yourself to be vulnerable. “I came out here to figure myself out and to do it on my own. I wanted to prove it to myself. But, then today, I got so caught up in my own head that I almost got us both hurt.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says quietly.

“I should’ve been paying better attention. Should’ve asked the other riders about the footing. Or—” your voice cracks and you pause to slow down your spiraling thoughts.

Joel moves closer, his presence solid. Anchoring. “You’re hard on yourself,” he says it soft, but firm. “You’ve got grit. You work your ass off. That’s what matters.”

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

“I know so. I see you. The way you handle Blue, the balance you strike with your dad, the way you work twice as hard as most folks at a part-time job and still have time to learn the names of every old farmer in 50 miles that comes in once a month.”

You laugh at that, feeling something warm blooming in your chest. His eyes soften, and you’re drawn to the lines on his face.

“I’ve seen the way you push yourself even when you’re tired, the way you’re determined to bring out the best in yourself and others. Even those of us with a history.” He runs his hand along the scar tissue on Blue’s shoulder. The horse that broke a girl’s jaw.

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and you feel like your ribs have been pulled open, exposing your heart and soul in the moonlight.

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

Hearing Joel’s praise feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders.

“Joel,” you start, but your voice falters. The way he’s looking at you feels intense. Almost too much. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.

The slip in his voice–the raw, unguarded admiration–sends a flush of heat through you. Shit. The praise was already overwhelming, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s too much. Or not enough.

His centering presence somehow has you rocked off balance.

Suddenly you’re closer, the space between you charged. Humming like one of the generators at the other campsites.

His hand brushes your cheek, gentle but deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Everything that has been simmering between you feels like it’s about to boil over.

The rest of the rodeo disappears. Standing there in the moonlight, the world around you dissolves into quiet, only his gravity pulling you closer.

Joel’s hand lingers just long enough on your cheek to make heat crawl up your neck and coil in your belly. Before you can close the distance he pulls back, clearing his throat and stepping away. He moves slowly and deliberately, giving you space to retreat if you want to.

But you don’t.

Instead, you follow him out of the pen, your feet carrying you toward the trailer without thought.

The silence between you is loud, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken words and feelings, each step drawing you toward something you haven’t named yet. When he opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, the creak of the hinges feels impossibly loud.

Inside, the trailer is layered in soft shadows from the glow of a warm lamp. Joel closes the door behind you, and the quiet feels delicate. He stands a few paces away, his hat in hand, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for any sign of doubt.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

When you find your voice, it’s softer than you expected. “Yeah.”

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, and the warmth in his eyes eases some of the nervous energy bouncing around in your chest. He hangs his hat on the hook near the door. The image of him reaching past you to hang it on the same hook last night flares in your mind and buzzes through your skin.

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

“Earlier,” he begins, “when I said I respect the hell outta you… I meant it.”

He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and solid. Your senses are heightened from the emotionally raw conversation, from his touch, and the warm, spiced scent of him wrapping around you. “I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed to be here. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe.

“And you’ve got no idea how much I—”

He cuts himself off, searching your face. His breath is warm, so close to your face. His lips look soft, so close to yours.

You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s nothing like the night before. It’s tender. Slow. Sprawling. Unspoken affection passes between you with the slip of your tongues and the soft sounds in your throat.

Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, every thought and worry dissolving into the sensation of your lips on his. Softer than he ever let himself imagine, a sweetness he didn’t think he deserved. The warmth of you seeps into him, steadying him even as it sends electricity down his spine.

So soft, he thinks, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist. Every inch of you pressed against him feels like fire and solace all at once. His other hand roams over your back, the delicate shift of muscle beneath his palm grounding him in the reality that you’re here, with him.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, but there’s no space left between you. His palm glides down your spine, lighting you from within. When you break apart, softly breathing in each other’s air, his forehead rests against yours, eyes dark and soft as they hold your gaze.

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but smile.

“I might have some idea,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, but your smile grows wider.

Then he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his hands moving to your hips and guiding you toward the bed. His touch is everywhere, his lips tracing a path from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss making you feel lighter and warmer.

He continues to pour his confessions into your skin between each article of clothing he pulls off of you. "I thought I’d never have this. Never have you. But here you are, and you’re perfect." The words spill out of him unbidden, each one carrying a weight he’s carried for far too long. His hands tremble slightly as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down your clavicle, between the swell of your breasts, over the smooth fabric of your bra.

"I used to hate that I wanted you, that I thought about having you like this. But I don’t want to stop, sweetheart.” He unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders, replacing the cups with his palms, kneading your plush flesh. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands sends sparks through him, and he leans in, brushing his lips over the sensitive peaks.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you murmur back. He hums in response to you, rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking his time mouthing, sucking, licking at each of them until you moan and arch toward him.

“I spent too many nights trying not to think about you,” he confesses, his voice dipping lower. “And cursing myself for it.” He shifts down, between your legs to pull your jeans off. It feels like he’s just handed you a piece of himself you didn’t expect to see. The idea of him, alone and thinking about you, shifts something in your mind. It’s not just desire he carries for you. Is it something deeper?

He runs his hands along your bare legs, warm against your smooth skin. He already looks wrecked and he’s still fully clothed. You reach for him, but he shakes his head, dipping to line another path of kisses down your belly, to the sensitive skin inside the top of your thighs. His lips press against your skin, reverent, as if trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. His admiration and desire are intense, making you feel stripped bare in an emotional way. He’s not just saying it; he means it in a way that feels different from casual compliments.

The heat of his touch and the need in his eyes have your core aching for attention. His breath ghosting over your swollen cunt makes you shudder with need.

When his lips press against the thin fabric still covering you, you arch into him. You feel him smile against you, breathing deeply before he slides his hands beneath your thighs, cupping your ass to tilt your hips before he descends again.

He kisses and sucks at your clit through your soaked panties without a care for the lewd sounds filling the small room. He doesn’t stop. It’s warm and wet, and the pressure makes you feel needy. You roll your hips seeking more contact, and he moans against you, the sound vibrating through you causing you to gasp and call out his name.

He looks up at you before pulling your underwear off and pausing to stare at your glistening cunt, before taking all of you in. His eyes dart to your face, all of your exposed skin, and back to your eyes.

“I never thought I’d actually get to touch you. To kiss you. Taste you like this.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the sound of your breath.

“Please, Joel.” He’s like a dream between your legs. His mouth, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. He uses everything with expert precision, bringing you closer and closer and erasing every worry, every stress.

His hips press into the mattress involuntarily, seeking relief for his throbbing cock as he continues to worship you with his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged already.

It tips you over the edge, chanting his name like a prayer as your release crashes through you. Your walls contract around his fingers and your muscles tense as he groans into your wet flesh before pulling back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs from between your legs, “you did good for me, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You’re boneless as the words melt into you. But you know you wanted to say something before he made your vision blur.

Your breath comes in slow, uneven waves as you blink at the ceiling, reality slowly settling back into your body. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and heavy with affection and need, and you realize the thought that had slipped away moments ago was this: you need to feel him, to see him.

“Joel,” you manage, your voice low and hoarse, your fingers brushing weakly at his forearm. He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips as he leans closer.

“What is it, baby?”

You swallow hard, the words tangled in your throat as you try to gather your strength. “Off,” you rasp, fingers tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re all right first.”

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

Something in your voice snaps the tension in him. His jaw tightens, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt in one smooth motion, tugging it over his head.

The sight of him leaves you breathless. Broad shoulders tapering to a firm waist, his skin golden and littered with scars and years of hard work. He looks wrecked, his chest rising and falling as though he’s been holding himself back for too long.

“Goddamn,” you whisper, as your mouth hangs open. Your gaze drops lower, taking in the soft lines of his abdomen, and the trail of dark hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.

And then, as he unbuttons them and pushes them down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed and so fucking perfect it sends a scalding wave of desire rolling through you.

You’re expression fills Joel with pride. The hunger in your eyes makes his cock twitch, the intensity of your gaze threatening to knock him over right there.

You sit up slightly, your hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist gently, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. He eases you back onto the mattress, his hands warm and firm against your hips. “Not this time, baby.”

You whine softly, your need pulsing through every word. “Please, fuck, I need you.”

His pupils blow wide, his breathing uneven as he settles between your legs. “You need me?” he repeats, his tone darkening, the words laced with a feral edge that makes you dizzy.

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

The shift in his tone sends a fresh rush of slick between your thighs. His hand trails up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he watches you.

“Gonna make you mine. Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel it in you every time you move.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes your body burn, your hips rocking up toward him involuntarily. “Joel, please,” you beg, your voice raw and edged with frustration as he drags the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you.

You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, his hips flush against yours, his cock filling you completely. “Look at you,” he coos. “Such a good girl for me.” The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking to life as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

Your walls flutter around him, your body already begging for more. “Joel,” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”

He obliges, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, dragging out the intensity of every sensation. His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispers praise between each movement. “You’re so good for me, baby. So damn good.”

Your body writhes beneath him, the pleasure building with each heavy stroke. “More,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. I need more.”

The last of his restraint dissolves as he grips your hips and begins to move harder, faster, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere. The pace steals the breath from your lungs, threatening to consume you.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough and unrestrained. “Take it. All of me.”

Your cries fill the air, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hands hold you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you as he claims you.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his gaze locked on the spot where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears every time he sinks into you. “So perfect, takin’ me so well. Made for this. Made for me.”

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

Again it’s the deep satisfaction you get from his unrestrained desire that makes you come with a blinding intensity. You try to tell him how close you are before you’re violently sucked into the sensations.

Your walls clench around him, making him shudder and groan. You try to beg him to come too. To fill you up. You’re unsure if the words make it past your thoughts, but he’s pulled into it with you either way.

Moments later, a deep groan vibrates through his chest as he tenses and his hips jerk against you. It feels like bliss, the sensation of his cock pulsing within you, the heat of his release coating your walls as they flutter around him.

The room falls into a warm quiet, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and the faint sounds of people laughing and shouting at another campsite, reminding you the rest of the world still exists.

Joel’s weight presses into you, grounding you in the present. He doesn’t pull away, softening inside of you as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Just stay with me.”

He shifts you both just enough to hold tight against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as his hand smooths down your side. “So good,” he murmurs, “so perfect,” voice rough but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.

The early morning sun stretches over the rodeo grounds, bathing everything in a wash of pink hues. You wake to the soft hum of voices outside the trailer and the thud of a bale of hay being dropped just outside the trailer.

Joel’s weight shifts beside you as he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt. The sound pulls a smile to your lips as you turn to face him. His eyes blink open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and he offers you a lazy smile that you mirror involuntarily.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw.

There’s a content silence between you before a loud knock rattles the trailer door, making you both jump. Tommy’s voice rings out cheerfully, "Y’all better get movin’ if you don’t wanna miss breakfast."

Joel groans, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "That boy’s got the worst damn timing."

You stifle a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Joel watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and unguarded, before he stretches and follows suit.

The three of you sit at a picnic table near the cook tent, balancing plates of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as the camp buzzes with early morning energy. Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, chatters on about their schedule and the competition, occasionally tossing in jokes that have you laughing despite yourself. Joel leans back in his seat, his body language is relaxed but his eyes are constantly flicking to you.

When Tommy excuses himself to check on their horses, Joel leans forward, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not real subtle, you know.”

You shoot him a mock glare, your cheeks warming. “Says the man who’s been staring at me all morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Joel shrugs.

Later, you find yourself perched on the edge of a fence near the arena, watching Joel and Tommy warm up their horses. Their movements are fluid and synchronized; you openly admire their skill.

Tommy tips his hat to you with a grin as they pass, and you wave back, your gaze inevitably drifting back to Joel. He glances your way, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes your heart skip.

The arena is alive with energy as their division gets underway. You lean against the rail, your fingers gripping the cool metal as you watch Joel and Tommy back their horses into the box.

The chute gate flies open, the steer bolting into the arena with Joel and Tommy in swift pursuit. Joel’s rope swings in a perfect arc, catching the steer cleanly around the horns as Tommy moves in to secure the heels. The crowd cheers as they pull the steer to a stop, their time flashing on the scoreboard.

The announcer calls their time and updates the standings. Joel and Tommy have the best time in their division so far.

You can’t help but cheer, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd as Joel and Tommy ride back toward the holding pen, their smiles wide and triumphant. Joel catches your eye as he passes, tipping his hat to you with a grin that makes your stomach flutter.

When they dismount near the gate, you meet them with a smile. "You two make that look way too easy."

Tommy laughs. "He’s the header," he tilts his head toward Joel. “I can’t do shit if he misses.”

Joel shakes his head, deflecting the comment.

“It’s a team event,” you counter. “Both of you are good at what you do.”

“We should bring her with us more often,” Tommy jokes.

Joel gives you another warm look with unspoken words.

“Your head wouldn’t fit in your damn hat if you had someone talking you up after every run,” Joel mocks. As they both swing their legs over the back of their saddles. You turn to watch as they lead their horses back to the trailer. You want to follow and stay close to Joel for the rest of the day, but you stay put.

Trying not to let Tommy in on whatever’s happening between the two of you until you figure it out for yourself. Instead, you head back to the fence to watch the next pair of team ropers. You’d rather be near him, but staying put feels safer—for now.

The afternoon sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rodeo grounds. You sit beside Joel on the bleachers, the two of you a quiet bubble of calm amid the hum of spectators around you. The events continue below—tie-down ropers hopping into the dirt, saddle bronc riders gripping for dear life trying to stick it out for eight seconds, bareback riders up next.

Joel leans back, one arm draped across the bench behind you, his body close enough that the heat of him radiates against your side. He’s quiet, but his presence feels steady and grounding. Every so often, his knee brushes yours, the brief contact enough to send a subtle thrill through you.

“You doin’ all right?” Joel asks, his voice low and soft. His gaze lingers on you, dark eyes warm but searching.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “This is nice. I didn’t think I’d enjoy just sitting and watching this much.”

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

Your cheeks warm, but you’re spared from responding by the announcer introducing the next rider. Joel shifts beside you, his attention briefly pulled to the arena. You let yourself steal a glance at him—the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet confidence in his posture. He catches you looking and tips his hat, the subtle smirk that follows sending warmth blooming in your chest.

As the next rider lines up, Joel pulls his hat off, setting it on your lap. You blink, startled, and look at him.

“Put it on,” he says simply, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes—a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.

You hesitate for only a moment before lifting the Stetson and settling it on your head. It’s big, a little too big, but it smells faintly of leather and him. Joel’s gaze lingers on you, his lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

The weight of the gesture settles over you—the tradition, the meaning behind it. The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest. You’re not sure what to say, so you lean into his side slightly, letting the moment and the warmth of him settle over you like a blanket.

Later, as the afternoon begins to mellow, Joel takes your hand and guides you to the cook tent for dinner. It feels almost natural to walk hand in hand, weaving through the crowd of people. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversations and laughter from the other riders and their families.

Joel insists on getting your plate, waving you off with a playful, “Sit tight. I’ll take care of you.” You settle at a nearby table, watching as he weaves through the crowd with ease, stopping to exchange a word or two with acquaintances before returning with two heaping plates.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re at a rodeo. The noise and bustle fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a comfortable bubble of companionship. Joel’s low chuckle as you tell him a story about your first job, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the warmth in his voice when he says your name—it all feels so natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As the sun begins to dip lower, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Joel stands and offers you his hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s find a good spot for the bull riders. We can cheer for your new friend.”

He leads you back toward the bleachers. The two of you settle in as the crowd starts to gather, the energy of the evening event buzzing around you. Joel drapes his arm casually along the back of the bench again, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds you, making you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.

Tommy and the woman you’ve seen him spending most of the weekend with join you to watch a few rounds. You tense as they come toward the steps, shifting to create space between you and Joel, trying to seem casual. You feel Joel’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything about your move.

Tommy shoots you a wink before they take the seats next to you. It makes you squirm, but you tell yourself he’s always just playful like that. Too charming for his own good.

They stay and chat long enough to finish their drinks before heading back to watch the rest of the event with her group of friends.

Joel stays seated beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the bench, his other hand resting on his thigh. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that feels like its own kind of conversation.

Finally, Joel clears his throat, turning slightly to face you. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with something earnest and determined.

“I know this might be the wrong time to bring this up,” he begins, commanding your attention just with the timbre of his voice pulling at your heart, “but I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about where I’m at.”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “Where you’re at?”

He nods, his gaze holding yours. “Look, I know your dad’s a good man, and I don’t want to cross any lines. But I also don’t want to miss my chance with you.” He pauses, his hand brushing against yours where it rests on your lap. “I don’t want this to be our only day together, and I won’t have you sneakin’ out your bedroom window and hoppin’ the fence to see me. S’just not the kind of man I am.”

Your heart stutters as his words sink in. There’s no wavering in his voice, no attempt to downplay what he’s saying. He’s laying it out plainly, his honesty disarming in a way you didn’t expect.

“So what are you saying?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest swells. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.” Relief washes over his face, and he leans close to you.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re such a true-blue cowboy, you’re gonna have to be the one to tell my dad.”

Joel nods. “I’ll handle it.” His voice is quieter, but honest. His gaze seems to look a little far away.

You squeeze his hand. “We’ll handle it.” You give him an encouraging smile. “Don’t have to do everything by ourselves right?”

He gives you a warm look. “Right.” He dips toward you for a chaste kiss. It’s sweet and playful. “Just don’t make me wait too long to take you out proper,” he rumbles as he pulls his head back.

You laugh airily, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his arm around you, the weight of his hat still on your head, and the quiet promise of what’s to come settle over you, the world around you fading into a comfortable hum of possibilities for you and your cowboy Joel.

thank you for reading! pls let me know what you think <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics tags for babes in case they want some cowboy joel: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us

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artszweig · 5 months ago

Text

spring breakers.

summary: New apartment, new bed, same boyfriend. Some things need to be broken in. (18+)

pairing: stanford!fem!reader/stanford!art warnings: smut, oral sex (f!receiving), humping, pet play, puppy!art, soft femdom, mommy kink, sub!art, dom!reader

wc: 824 a/n: yes guys im on that petplay shit sue me... this is my first published blurb so come say hi..!!

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It was your idea to move out of the residence halls and into an apartment. Art didn't protest -- you had an entire speech prepared if he did, explaining the financial and romantic benefits of moving into an apartment for the next school year. He didn't need to hear any of it, instead telling you that he wouldn't mind a bigger place.

Neither of you expected how much work it would be. Finding your own furniture, buying your own food... the list goes on. School started in a week and a half and you both felt grossly underprepared, Art preoccupied with tennis training and you with moving in and working part-time.

Art was on the court when you moved the full-size mattress to your (now shared!) bedroom. When he came home, sweaty and worn-out, to the mattress already set up, you could almost see the joy spill out of him -- "I can't believe you did all of this on your own, oh my God," and "thank you so much for finishing up!"

And that's how he ended up between your thighs, graciously repaying you for your hard work. Your back was pressed to the mattress with your knees parted while Art found his place between your legs.

"Mommy," Art sighed, nuzzling his cheek against your inner thigh, "mommy, please."

"What do you need, baby? 'Please' what?" You didn't reach to pet his head, not yet. You waited until he showed you he deserved it.

Art whined.

"I need to," he panted like a dog, "to -- to lick."

As a reward, you rested your hand on top of his head, "okay, you have permission. You can; go on, lap it up."

You saw the tension melt from Art's body, the buildup finally releasing as he dove into your pussy. You're already wet but Art slobbers, making you unsure which wetness belongs to you or him.

Under you, Art groans like it's his cock that pushed into you -- and to him, it might as well have been. His eyes are closed as he licks at your clit, somewhat inexperienced but desperate enough to make it work.

It's mainly the desperation that gets you off.

Art's tongue makes it way down from your clit to the opening of your pussy and presses and wiggles and presses. It's like he's trying to swallow you whole. His moans rise in pitch and volume and you look down your body to see --

Art's head buried in your pussy while his hips rock against the mattress.

"Oh," you say between breaths, "oh, baby..."

You feel your body get hotter as you watch Art weakly thrust against the mattress as he continues to eat you. The angle isn't right and you're sure it's uncomfortable, but friction is friction and Art takes what he can get. His hands are busy spreading you apart, one hand on each of your thighs to keep you open for the entirety of his warm, wet mouth.

Your clit is entirely engulfed by him -- his tongue moves from inside of you to back on your clit where he sucks and licks.

"Come on, baby," you tug lightly at his hair, "be good."

Art's hips jerk while his mouth got sloppy. He moaned open-mouth into you, entranced by the way his cock felt pressed against the mattress.

"Are you gonna cum, baby?" You asked, but you knew the answer -- you could tell by the way his body stiffened up and his breaths were uneven and laboured.

"Mmph --" Art choked, "Mommy -- Mommy!"

You pet his hair, stroking him lovingly. This was his treat.

"It's okay, puppy, you can."

Art pulled his mouth away from your pussy, clenching his jaw tight. You couldn't fully see him cum, but you watched his body freeze and tense when he gave one last frenzies hump.

When he was done, he pressed his cheek against your thigh. His eyes were glazed over, completely fucked-out.

"Come on, finish Mommy off." You gently tugged him by the hair, leading him back to your pussy.

He was slower this time, more deliberate in his licks -- intentionally or not.

Art laid his tongue flat against your clit and bobbed his head up and down. You couldn't help but bear your hips down on his mouth, gently fucking his face. His eyes were shut and his mouth was pliant -- you could do anything you want to him like this.

It didn't take much longer for you to cum after rutting yourself against Art's tongue.

"Art, baby," you gasped, "I'm going to cum in your warm little mouth, okay?"

Art only moaned. You shouted when you finally came and pulled on Art's hair, making him take all of you at once. He cleaned it all up with his tongue, swallowing anything you gave him.

Beneath you, you could hear him mutter "thank you Mommy, thank you..."

You and Art spend the next day cleaning a new cum stain out of the mattress.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #challengers smut #challengers fic #shelby writes

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flwrkid14 · 3 months ago

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Danny and Tim have this unspoken bond, both of them constantly walking the line between life and death—Tim with his brushes with danger as Red Robin, and Danny being, well, half-dead. You’d think that shared experience would bring them closer, but instead, it’s just one more thing that separates them.

Tim feels like he can never fully reach Danny. There’s always a distance, an invisible wall between them, and it eats at him. Danny can phase through walls, but somehow, the emotional ones are harder to break down. Tim’s used to distance, though—he’s felt it his whole life—with Bruce, with the Bat family, and now, with Danny.

Danny tries to reassure Tim, tells him that he’s always there, but Tim can see the cracks. He knows what it’s like to hold everything together, to be the one everyone depends on, and Danny’s doing the same thing. Tim sees the strain in Danny’s smile, the way his eyes glaze over when he thinks no one’s watching. But what kills Tim the most is that Danny won’t let him in—not fully. Not in the way Tim wants.

Some nights, it feels like they’re both ghosts. Tim, drifting through the Batcave like a shadow, barely noticed, and Danny, flickering between his human and ghost forms, unsure where he belongs. They’re both alive, but neither of them really feels it. The constant brushes with death, the danger—it’s left them numb in different ways.

Tim wonders if Danny’s afraid of hurting him, afraid of getting too close. Danny’s power—his half-dead nature—it’s a part of him, and Tim knows he doesn’t want to accidentally phase through Tim’s life, leave him behind, like he’s done with so many others. But Tim’s already used to being left behind, and maybe that’s the worst part. He’s so used to it that he’s convinced himself it’s just how things are meant to be.

They don’t talk about it, about the distance or the loneliness, but it’s always there, lingering like a third presence in the room. Danny, half-dead. Tim, feeling like he’s not fully living. Both of them too scared to confront it, to say out loud what they’re both thinking—that maybe they’ll never really fit anywhere. Not with the Bat family, not with the ghosts, not even with each other.

#brain dead #dead tired #tim drake #danny phantom #danny x tim #tim and danny have a lot of trauma they dont talk about #they feel distant with each other because they're as communicative as a brick wall #danny doesn't wanna get close to tim because he already lost all of amity all those years ago #everyone danny knew in amity is dead and danny still mourns them #danny has emotional walls tim cant get through and its heartbreaking that someone hes opened up too doesn't feel comfortable to do the same #they love each other but communication is hard #dpxdc

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air--so--sweet · 6 months ago

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So, Aidan Gallagher was the last cast member to wrap on season 4, and he wrapped several days after everyone else which I've been presuming means we're getting some apocalypse flashbacks but I've just had another idea.

We see Lila and Five travelling to what looks like the original apocalypse, what if they see young Five in the apocalypse? I think it could be really interesting as I don't think any of the other characters fully appreciate what he went through (well, Luther appreciates what it feels like to live in total solitude). Especially when he came back looking exactly like he did when he ran away, but with an adult consciousness instead of a teenage one. It makes it very easy to forget he got stranded and had to learn how to survive in an apocalyptic wasteland as a literal child. While grieving everyone and everything he has ever known.

And I think for Lila to be the character to witness that, as someone who has quite an antagonistic, but also incredibly loving relationship with Five (I was going to say though neither would admit it, but actually I feel both of them had dropped almost all pretense of hating each other at the end of season 3. I don't know if either would verbally express love for each other but in the same way I don't know if either would verbally express love for anyone) would be incredibly affecting. Especially as, unlike his siblings, she never knew teenage Five, she has always known him as an adult who looks like a teenager. I feel like for Lila to witness firsthand the brutality Five experienced alone in the apocalypse, and to realise he was really just a child, especially now that she has a child herself...well I think it would be truly upsetting for her but also giver he a deeper understanding of Five and just how important his family is to him (and family is what Lila desires and values most in the world too).

But also, it will make her realise how similar Five's experience was to her own. Because both were caused to suffer at a young age by the Handler, Lila by having her parents murdered, Five by being left in the apocalypse for 45 years when she could have plucked him out at any point, and then exploited for her own gains with little to no care given to how it sould affect them. Five says The Handler made it so he couldn't belong anywhere, that she made him a killer; she more or less did the same thing to Lila.

Most theories I write are just 'Oh this would be cool if it happened' or 'Look at this ridiculous idea I had', but, now I've imagined it, I'll be really disappointed if we don't see Lila and Five witness younger Five in the apocalypse. Damn...

Also, while writing this it occurred to me that, if the scene where Lila is crying is in the subway, which is looks like it is, maybe she isn't crying because something happened her daughter or Diego (as most of us presumed), maybe it's related to her seeing something The Handler did in another timeline. Or maybe it's just the emotional impact of seeing The Handler in the flesh again, knowing Lila loved her and saw her as her mother, and The Handler was happy to murder Lila in cold blood when she realised she couldn't manipulate her anymore. That's bound to fuck you up. (To be be clear, because I think how I phrased this suggests we'll definitely see The Handler again, I have no idea if we will or won't but with the hopping of timelines it's a possibility.)

Or maybe Lila sees what The Handler took from her, what life would have been like if she grew up with her parents. Or again, the effect of just getting to see her parents alive and in the flesh. A train always stops in the same places, it can't just change course or route like any other vehicle. Maybe the subway allows you to move between timelines/time travel but only as an observer. You can't change or effect any events and therefore can't interact with anyone as a result. Imagine the pain of seeing your parents you thought you'd never see alive again and not bring able to interact with them in any way. Or maybe she has to witness their murder again knowing she can't do anything to stop it. It would be a really interesting parallel from their relationship in season 2 to have Five comforting Lila over the death of her parents.

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 speculation #the umbrella academy season 4 spoilers #five hargreeves #lila pitts

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legendary-lunatic · 1 month ago

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Okay, So I just finished binge watching all four Despicable Mes in one day, and I gotta say that I did not care for the fourth movie.

It was disappointing… which is a shame, because Maxime Le Mal is awesome.

The concept of a cockroach villain, is epic. He had a great character design, a fun personality, and he had past conflict with Gru.

The problem with the fourth movie is that it is not plot driven enough and instead keeps splicing screen time for family fluff moments and side characters like Poppy.

Poppy, as much as I thought she was a fun presence, was NOT needed in the movie, and neither was all of that Safe House Country Club shit. Why would they go out of their way to say ‘Hey Gru? Let’s stop acting like the grumpy protagonist we love and instead behave completely out of character so you can pretend you like playing tennis.’ It was unnecessary and not what we needed from a character we have grown to find charming because of the way he can be both kind and a grumpy asshole. (Like Shrek.) Shrek does not belong at a country club, and neither does Gru.

We introduce a villain school that Gru went to only to not only completely avoid talking about him or the school in that context, but bring it up again solely for an irrelevant character who overall contributes nothing the the story at hand.

All of the other films in some way had a proactivity to them that kept the main antagonist in mind, and this film does not work because they keep shoving Maxime to the side. They should have completely scrapped all the minion fantastic four hero parody crap and stayed focused on the overall narrative and developing the new central antagonist.

It would have been fantastic if we had gotten more background on the conflict between Gru and Maxime. Apparently they had a little rivalry or just generally were jerks to each other in school as we find out that not only did Gru steal his song, Maxime pantsd him in front of the school, not to mention how they interacted in the beginning of the film, so clearly there is bad blood. This is the first villain that had conflict with Gru specifically, and it would have been an excellent central plot point to focus on his early life, or a great way to develop a villain that’s built out of personal grudge rather than inherently destructive ambition like the others.

And instead that was SQUANDERED by this absolutely directionless travesty. Maxime’s girlfriend, first of all, was useless and distracting. All the little cutaway moments and side stories were unnecessary, and overall it was incredibly disappointing to have a guy that can CONTROL COCKROACHES do absolutely nothing with them. He could be strong and invulnerable, He could have been mutating more people, controlling swarms, he could have been going after Gru more intensely and talking about how they bullied each other and that could have been very interesting.

But no. This is the only film in which the main antagonist takes such a back seat that he can effectively be cut from the film and it would hardly impact a thing. Maxime had potential and stage presence, and they did nothing with it in favor of fluff.

And Listen, LISTEN, fluff isn’t bad, I love their family- but it should not comprise 98% of the film!!! It should be wedged into little moments between plot points. Even Despicable Me 3, which had a bizarre out of left field twin plot, handled their villain with more respect and managed to tie in the two narratives in a way that culminated in a final act that was satisfying to all the characters.

Brat had charisma and was a genuine threat and was present enough in the story that he was still necessary to the story overall because he and his diamond were the reason Gru lost his job and he and his brother did the heist to retrieve it. By the end of the first half of the film we knew that Brat was a washed up star that peaked in his childhood and was trapped in his nostalgia, and he had a fully fleshed out motivation and draw to him despite being rather simple that allowed us to indulge in his quirks. His pathetic nostalgic personality CARRIES that film because it’s funny and endearing and believable because we’ve all met someone like that.

But Maxime is not such a simple character by design because his motivations are relationship focused- and in this film they spend most of the time running away from Maxime, which is counter intuitive and lets us understand absolutely nothing about the guy. Because they didn’t delve deeper, Le Mal’s motivations were weak, and thus the overall STORY was weak. We don’t even know why he has such an intense hyper fixation on cockroaches that he would literally roachify himself and make that his central theme!!!

Why didn’t Lucy and the kids go to the safe house and Gru could stay to deal with his rival? It doesn’t make sense!!! And the AVL was doing nothing about the threat at all and instead was being ridiculous by giving the minions super powers? Ineptitude to the point of absurdity. What is the point of going to a safe house if they aren’t trying to resolve the issue and then Gru does it anyway?!!!!

Brain dead. Disappointing. On every level.

They didn’t even resolve the personal conflicts the girls were having, what with Margo having trouble at school and Agnes not liking telling lies! What was the point?!

The animation may have been pretty, but the plot was weak. The character motivations were weak because they didn’t expand on them. There were thousands of directions they could have gone with this film and they chose to go NOWHERE.

The best part of the film is the end, and only because we got to see Maxime be relevant for three minutes and it implies that they’ve managed to wrap up their implied but borderline nonexistent rivalry. And we got two seconds of Brat dancing way too over sensually to ‘Rule the World’ because it’s an 80s song (the power of character consistency)

I don’t like hearing ‘ItS JuSt a KiDs FiLm’- NO. Pandering to children is not an excuse for bad writing in family media, and this franchise has been out long enough that it has an audience larger than just kids. Kids media and family media deserve better and should still have good narrative standards. Do not insult our intelligence by giving us content without purpose. It costs millions of dollars and months upon years to make a film nowadays, there is no excuse for not sitting down and coming up with a decent story direction and cohesive plan. A family film can be enjoyable for little ones and still have depth to it-

Family movies have been getting insanely messy lately with their story content because they think seeing characters we like regurgitated at us with good animation is enough to keep the company afloat and appease everyone, and it’s irritating. Dig deeper, have some respect for your craft. Keep our expectations high to keep us coming back!

I love the Despicable Me world and characters, but honestly this was such a disjointed film that it was almost hard to enjoy because I just kept waiting for something, anything to happen, and was utterly let down.

Maxime Le Mal deserved better as a villain, and this film deserved better. This franchise deserved better. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

#despicable me #despicable me 4 #maxime le mal #movie critique #movie review #felonious gru #movie analysis #rant post #dm4 #despicable me 3 #balthazar bratt

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lizzy019 · 5 months ago

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PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEEEEE HEAR ME OUT

Ponyboy Curtis first kiss fluff..?

Js two little awkward 14 year olds PLEASEEEe🙏🙏

(Also i love your writing your awesome)

𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓁𝑒 𝐹𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉?

Ponyboy Curtis x GN!Reader

cw -> none, just some kissing :)

Word Count -> 710

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WORK!! <333 Enjoy the very short fluff, anon :)

The lot was empty asides for the gushes of wind blowing around the small bonfire Ponyboy had lit up. It was peaceful in its own way, just you two watching the flames sway in the night's breeze while happily chatting about random nonsense.

“Dally blew out his budget last week and now he's crashin' at our place. I don't mind it, but Darry sure don't like feedin' him.” Ponyboy murmured, his head resting on your shoulder while he fiddled with your hand.

You took a soft drag of your cigarette as you listened to his mini rant, and you couldn't help but smile. Dally always did that, how was this time any different?

“Well, that's Dallas for ya. Poor fella's always blowin' out his money, maybe he should get a proper job.” You chuckled, not saying anything maliciously as your head rested gently upon his.

The fire crackled and swayed, emitting swirls of gray smoke and shooting them into the air, intoxicating the fresh oxygen the trees around you produced. It was calming in a way, hearing the breeze, the fire, Pony's breathing and his voice. It soothed you, lulled you back into a sense of comfort and peace.

Ponyboy chuckled when you said those words, nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, maybe then Dally could start payin' Darry rent for whenever he'd have to crash at our place.” He joked along, adjusting his face to press into your neck so he could smell your lovely natural scent.

You smiled at his little movements, adjusting yourself to make things easier on him while you stomped out your now useless cigarette. You giggled when his breathing began to tickle your neck.

“Stop! It tickles, Pony!” You cried out with giggles all in between your words, feeling him press a super soft kiss to your neck before pulling free.

You blushed a bit at the kiss to your neck, finding it to be a bold move in your young relationship, but you paid no serious mind to it. Instead, you simply pressed a loving kiss to his cheek, watching as his face went red too.

Both of you began to chuckle out of awkwardness, and it ended once you two locked eye contact. It was mesmerizing in a way, how Ponyboy looked at you so earnestly and so fully. Like you were a walking angel.

Slowly, the distance between you two gradually shrunk, and although you both knew what was coming, neither of you did anything to stop it from coming. Nervousness flooded your senses until the contact was made.

His warm lips pressed into yours so gently, you were sure it wasn't even him. But his hand gently came to cup your jaw and hold it in place while he tilted his head to adjust better. Your movements began to get more in sync, more relaxed and thorough until a sound from the distance had you both jolting away from each other like nothing happened.

The noise turned out to be Sodapop, finding you two all flustered in the lot watching the fire and he immediately knew what had happened.

“Superman's lookin' for ya, Pony. It's late, and dinner's gettin' cold. Getchur little hookup to go home too, don't end up like Dally or Two...” Sodapop muttered, shooing you away while he walked back home.

This had you both laughing with each other, and you poured the bit of water remaining to put out the fire before standing and grabbing your belongings.

“Well, I guess this is where we part for the night. See you tomorrow?” You asked with a calm smile, cheeks still a bit pink from embarrassment.

Ponyboy nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before he pressed one final kiss to your lips, rushing off right after to go catch up with Sodapop.

You were left now in the cold of the night, but it wasn't cold when you thought back to the previous few moments, the first kiss you shared, and the way he left you with a soft kiss in a form of goodbye.

So all while you walked home, your face pink from the interaction, all you could do was await tomorrow with excitement in hopes another little kiss would ensue.

#x reader #the outsiders #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders ponyboy #fluff

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trappedinafantasy37 · 4 months ago

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Let's talk about Shadowheart's newest evil ending.

Honestly, I think it looks pretty cool! I do like the way where it portrays Shadowheart as simultaneously pulling on the power of Selune and Shar at the same exact time. At first you might think this would be exclusive depending on the Nightsong choice. But, according to Dame Aylin, what belongs to Shar also belongs to Selune. Neither god can exist without the other and their powers are inverses to each other. Where there is darkness, there can be light, and Shadowheart has every intention of taking full advantage of it. I also like the little explanation as to how encapsulating the powers of both goddesses and forging her own path outside of them makes her feel whole as she otherwise would not be.

I also like that it demonstrates the absurdity of the centuries long fight between the two sisters by making it a mortal problem. The people we see are just killing each other solely because of their perceived allegiance to the "wrong god". And it's reminiscent of the petty conversation between Shadowheart and Isobel (the entire interaction is actually much more petty in the Shadowheart origin). These two characters had no justifiable reason to dislike each other except for the fact that their gods don't like each other.

To sum it up, Shadow is essentially pulling in the powers of both gods to become her own god and form a new church in her name. Instead of wasting her time being faithful to other gods, she is going to flip them off and make others be faithful to her instead. Thanks to her prior relationship with the Sharran cloister, she knows exactly what she needs to do to make people faithful to her and she will definitely lean into that Sharran training.

I have pulled my previous saves and can confirm that the ending is the same regardless of whether or not Shadowheart is a Dark Justiciar, and I don't think it should be. Before I really dive into it, her evil ending is out of character regardless of which path she goes down, although I think it makes more sense for Moon Shadow than DJ Shadow.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart

I did see a complaint the other day on TikTok that DJ Shadow should say "in Shar's name" when she claims the brain similar to how Durge claims it in Bhaals name. I'm kind of on the fence about this one because Shar and Bhaal do not want the same things about the Absolute. We know that Shar does want the Absolute destroyed. So for DJ Shadow to claim the Absolute, she is renegading against Shar which is wildly out of character. And if she is renegading against Shar, she would not be claiming it in Shar's name but her own.

We all know and joke about how much of a terrible Sharran Shadowheart is, even as a DJ. But this is someone who has chosen their path and is fully dedicated to Shar. She has decided she will enact Shar's will to the letter and won't stray. Sure, maybe Shadow would stretch the rules over little and trivial things (like still having a situationship with her romance partner after Shar told her not to). But claiming the Absolute is way too big of a deal and I don't think DJ Shadow would do it. Essentially the most evil ending does not suite an evil Shadowheart cause it's not the right flavor of evil.

However, if DJ Shadow were to claim it in Shar's name, it would not at all be the ending we got. She would not use the Absolute to cause a civil war between people, nor would she become a new god in her own right, nor would she use an ounce of Selune's power (especially since DJ Shadow would not know how intertwined the sister goddesses are). DJ Shadow is a very dedicated and faithful servant of Shar and would never think to elevate herself to Shar's level. Shadowheart became a Dark Justiciar, not because she wanted the power of one, but because she wanted to be a better servant to her god. She would do the same with the Absolute. She would specifically use the Absolute to drive the world into Shar's "endless darkness". She would fill the people with hopelessness, despair, grief, loss. She would inflict all of Shar's doctrines on the world. She would bring people into Shar's embrace, not turn against Shar at the eleventh hour after everything she sacrificed just to get there. I can even see DJ Shadow using the Absolute to expand the bounds of the Shadow Curse if it isn't resolved. That is, if Shar would allow Shadowheart to claim the Absolute at all.

Moon Shadowheart

One of the things that is really easy to miss is that Moon Shadow never fully embraces Selune, which is why I have a hard time calling her a Selunite. Selune is most certainly stretching her arms out to Shadow, ready to embrace her, but Shadow has not taken that step yet. When she first rejects Shar, Shadow knows deep down that she is being empowered by Selune instead (because what belongs to Shar belongs to Selune) but Shadow is in active denial about it until Dame Aylin kind of forces her to accept the truth. One of her default endings is of her still calling Selune the "Moon Witch" and doesn't feel particularly drawn to her just yet. But she spends all six months attempting to learn about Selune, learn about herself and her past and see if maybe she can be drawn to Selune. All that is important to her is that Selune is not like Shar and will allow Shadow to forge her own path, even if Selune is not happy with it.

As ironic as it is, this is the version of Shadow that I can see taking the Absolute for herself, albeit still a little OOC. Moon Shadow will actually have the freedom to claim the Absolute for herself cause what is Selune gonna do? Stop her? Pfft, she didn't even lift a finger to save her own child from being tortured for a century (although not because she didn't want to but because she's following Ao's rules). Considering how Shadowheart's personal story line ends, I feel you could easily squeeze some evilness out of it. Now, this is a little headcanony to try to make some sense as to why Moon Shadow would claim the Absolute (even though it is all OOC).

In the event she kills her parents, Shadow gets thrown into grief, loss, and guilt. Despite the fact that she rejected Shar and is supposed to have been "embraced" by Selune, she is still experiencing all the same things as when she was just as devoted to Shar. So, she rejected Shar for what? She lost her god and she still feels like shit, she is still in pain. Sure, she could learn to get past this, but she may not. While holding the stones and on the verge of godhood, she realizes she has been nothing but a toy between two gods who don't know how to settle their issues maturely. One god has actively tormented her her entire life, while the other god knew it was happening and did absolutely nothing to help. Shadow betrays the Emperor and claims the Absolute to become a god. Using all her lessons from her time in the Sharran cloister, she could show Shar how it's really done and demonstrate to Selune what happens when you become too passive. And this Shadow knows about the entanglement between the two goddesses and could still call on Shar's endless darkness if she needed to and would use Selune's light as a method of torment rather than guidance. I honestly feel like she would purposefully imprison Dame Aylin again out of pure spite. As powerful as she may be, the aasimar is nothing against a god.

A Shadowheart that spares her parents is probably the least likely version to claim the Absolute, but I still think you could make it work. This version of Shadow is content with the curse tying her and her parents together because they have all agreed that whatever happens they will do it together. But perhaps she realizes that it doesn't have to be that way and she and her parents don't need to suffer. To endure the pain is to please Shar, and she is tired of pleasing Shar. The most daunting part about chronic pain is that it does have a habit of driving people to madness and Shadow is aware this. Shar would gladly enjoy watching all the Hallowleaf's eventually go mad in the end. And it's not as if Selune is really doing anything to help either. She cannot rely on the gods to help her, and to become a god is to free herself from a gods curse, or at least give her a fighting chance to get rid of it. Forming a new church and becoming a new god will only strengthen her, give her enough power to loosen whatever grip Shar still has on her. But this Shadowheart is directly attached to Shar and would have no problem using it. If Shadowheart cannot get rid of the curse herself, then perhaps she can give Shar incentive to let her go.

Conclusion

Shadowheart actually should have gotten two different evil endings similar to Durge and a Moon Shadow should have had slight variations depending on the state of her parents. Shadowheart's personality, motivations, desires, and goals are all dictated depending on how dedicated she is to these gods and the endings should reflect that. The ending that we did get I feel is the most fitting for Moon Shadow who did sacrifice her parents because she did everything she was supposed to do, and yet she still suffers and she is still alone. This version of Shadow I can see becoming enraged and vengeful against Shar and Selune and wanting to bite back.

Don't get me wrong, I like this ending. But it also demonstrates one of my biggest gripes with how BG3 depicts evil and it seems like evil cannot exist in this game without it being comical. It cannot exist without it being in your face that it is evil, otherwise people might "miss it". Sadly, this means that characters are forced out of character to shoehorn them into evilness as there is often very little narrative explanation or build up as to why that character would choose the evil option. Sure, I think if you stretch it enough you could argue that the ending you get for Shadowheart is fitting regardless of whichever path. I mean, this is an RPG and we all come up with our own reasons as to why certain choices and outcomes make more sense over others (hells, I just did that in this post!).

Either way, I am glad that we did get these new endings. Even if I feel that some of them are OOC, I still appreciate them and I am grateful for the free treat Larian did give us.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #evil endings #patch 7 #shadowheart #dj shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #selunite shadowheart #i'm not saying that i dont like these endings because i really do #i love seeing all the characters become morally dubious gods who are about to do some morally dubious things #and living as their worst selves #and i do like that they do give you some wiggle room to make your own headcanons with them #i just find it absurdly hilarious that shadowheart would canonically destroy the brain regardless of if she's a dj or not

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lv-iceprince · 1 year ago

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Okay, I'll combine both astrology and a writing request in this fic.

Lee Know's Scorpio Venus and Virgo Mars to me indicates he has a corruption kink and would love the idea of having a inexperienced partner that he can mould into pleasing just him.

Can I please request a piece where it's the reader's first time?

Thank you xx

Bubble Pop!!!

pairing~ lee minho x fem! reader

genre~ (s)

word count~ 2.5k

synopsis~ he should have air fried the boy when he had the chance. maybe then he wouldn't have tried to hit on you. sure, hyunjin didn't know that you and minho were dating but that doesn't stop minho from taking your virginity then and there ... or the one where he illustrates your body with scratches to remind you who you belong to.

rating~ mdni 18+

featuring~ protected sex (a big sexy yes), pwp, minho and his corruption kink, loss of virginity, guided masturbation, guided pillow humping, minho has a thing for y/n's ass, dirty talk, dumbification if you really squint, minho fucks y/n on hyunjin's bed, sexy shadows and fairy lights.

a/n~ the fact that my first writing request is perfect, like thank you so much for requesting such a concept. i went insane writing this. i have been reborn. this is the most graphic thing i've written so to my new followers i'm sorry lol.

-------

Minho's lithe fingers were webbed with ecstasy as he trailed his hands up your heated skin, a sweet hum disguising his true intentions.

"Now tell me, do you have a boyfriend? With the way you were showing off in that little dress I highly doubt it." Even if it was against your better judgement you didn't know what else to do besides spread your legs further apart.

There was no way in hell that any of the guys knew you were taken, how could they when neither of you confirmed that you were dating. In there eyes you were Minho's best friend turned roommate, so why wouldn't Hyunjin shoot is shot?

Hyunjin would never fully comprehend how big a mistake it was to let his hand linger too close to your ass while he invited you over for some wine and a good time; that would only become apparent when he retired to his room to find cum-stained sheets and your perfume on his pillow.

"Min, I swear I was about to reject him, you know I would never do that to you."

Minho clicked his tongue in mockery as he snaked his hand into your underwear. Siren eyes met doe eyes as he noticed how caught off guard you were. He wanted to comfort you and say that he wouldn't break you, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. He wanted you to fall apart in his hands so that he could build you back up, most of all, he wanted you to scream out his name on Hyunjin's bed.

Even though his hand was restricted by your cotton panties he didn't make any attempt at sliding them down your leg, the cute ribbon that adorned them was his weakness.

You had expected him to pick up where he left off, fingers sliding against your tight walls, instead he came down to toy with your clit. Positioning himself to hover above you he leaned in to brush your hair to the side, coercing you with a string of kisses across your clavicle.

He had wanted to do this ever since you became his roommate. At first he thought you were his angel but it was all apart of your charm. You were kind, thoughtful and sweet but like all of the most heavenly angels you were the devil in disguise, even if you didn't realise it.

You may have been a virgin but there were moments where Minho was sure he caught you slipping. The way you would eye his bare chest after he had a shower, the way you were in awe whenever a sex scene came on tv-he could only hope that you were imagining his touch.

But the thing that truly broke him was the many times you would walk around your apartment wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties, not to mention that you always seemed to prefer his shirts over your own. The slight bruises littering his lower lip were a reminder of the times he bit his lip so hard that a speck of blood started to pool, your virginity remained intact while his sanity quickly went down the drain.

A harsh blush coated your cheeks as his member hardened beneath you making the rough denim scratch harder against your thigh. "I didn't know you felt this way." Minho didn't look up at you this time, far too preoccupied with your breasts and the fact he could see your hardened peaks through your bra. "I feel a lot of ways about you, I want to do so much to you jagiya." For a split second you caught his dark orbs before they fell behind his dark bangs. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you had ever seen before, it was full desperation.

Your head fell back, a silent beckon for him to continue exploring your body. "Little y/n always making my life so difficult, keep panting like that and you'll make me cum."

His taunting was the encouragement you needed to buck your hips into him, whining at the pressure on your clit. Minho's fingers froze in place depriving you of your release. Gripping his upper arm you pushed yourself against him, assuming his nerves got the best of him. "Minho that felt so good I want you to keep going." Minho chuckled at your neediness, responding with words dripping in sin.

"But I don't want to be bad, not yet, so how about we play a game? I want to see what experience you have, I have a feeling you know how to put on a show."

Minho approached Hyunjin's pink velvet office chair and wheeled it to the centre of the room, sitting down he leaned back to cross his legs. He took in the sight before him, you half naked, head resting on a soft pillow as the fairy lights danced across your skin.

"Open your legs sweet thing I want to see all of you."

You parted your legs, displaying the wet patch that started to form. Minho sat in awe at the way your arousal was dripping onto the sheets beneath you, luckily his dark jeans hid the fact that he had made a mess of his own.

Even though he was fighting against his own lust he grinned at you and clicked his tongue in faux mockery. "I bet you taste so good." Minho smirked as he noticed more slick trail down your leg at his words. "Well if that's the case I think you could do without your cute underwear, take them off. They're no use tonight anyways."

You already felt exposed however, you hung on to each of his words as you removed the soaked material. For a split second you thought of throwing them at him, a silent cry for him to hurry up and fuck you. But instead you tossed them to the side, awaiting his directions.

"I want to get this over and done with so be a good girl and listen to me, you can do that for me right y/n?" You nod, ever so obedient for your boyfriend.

"Open your legs a bit wider I want to see all of you." You brought your hands up to your face, hiding your ferocious blush. "Don't hide, there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"How about we start simple, use one of your hands to tease your entrance." Bringing a hand down you traced your folds, wincing when your fingers nudged your clit. "You're doing so well y/n, now finger yourself, remember how I shoved my hands down your pants earlier, I want to see you recreate it." You clenched your eyes shut, trying to remember the way his fingers rubbed against the walls of your aching cunt. Using one hand to spread your folds you inserted a finger, confused as to why you were still so tight. It wasn't long before you worked your way up two fingers, you were about to add a third before Minho interjected. "Grab that pillow, it's time for part two of our lesson." Getting onto your knees you reached for the closest pillow, getting a sample of Hyunjin's cologne. You brought it in front of you, awaiting his next order. Part of you knew what he wanted from you but there was no way he would ask you to do that, surely.

"What are you waiting for, don't be shy."

Somehow, for someone so unfamiliar with this you liked being so exposed to him. It was as if he was seeing more than your naked body, he saw the side of you that was begging for his touch since day one.

Straddling the pillow you arched your back at the sensation of the cool fabric against your heated skin, the embroidered patterning of the pillow barely brushed against your clit.

"That feels good doesn't it?" Nodding in response you moved forward, but that wasn't enough. No matter how much you moved your hips back and forth the jolt of pleasure barely revealed itself. "Min- this isn't enough, I need you." "No you don't." "I want you, I need to cum please." "You can have me after you cum."

Despite his harsh words his tone was the most gentle it had been that entire night. "I will always be here to please you but I know you can do it. Try rolling your hips towards me. The wave of pleasure that over took you after more desperate rutting was intense, something in your lower stomach snapped as your shaking arms gave out, your legs were barely holding you up as you gripped onto the sheets beneath you. You couldn't even comprehend the string of curse words you shouted, you were barely there.

Letting you catch your breath Minho pulled a condom out from his back pocket and sat near your side, his hand resting on the your back. "You did so well y/n." Pulling the pillow away from you he waited for you to finish coming down from your high.

"You're all fucked out, do you still want me? We can do this another night." Even if he sounded so gentle it felt like he was mocking you, there was no way you would give up on having sex with him tonight.

"I'm not going home until you fuck me Minho."

Minho walked you to the end of Hyunjin's bed "Bend over." Once you had done so Minho's hands trailed up your sides and stopped at your hands. Treating you as if you were his own personal doll he gripped your hands and brought them up urging you to grip onto the beams of the canopy bed. Minho tore the foil packet open, rolling the condom on.

"I'll try and be gentle jagiya, but if it's too much I'll stop as soon as you say vanilla." Minho kissed your neck anticipating the way that you would arch your back, he was already far too familiar with your body. "Just focus on the lights and relax." Looking straight ahead you ignored the twinkling fairly lights, instead becoming fixated by the shadowed silhouette of you and Minho that was cast onto the wall.

His cock prodding against your entrance made you wince. While you were trying to compose yourself yet again Minho entered you without warning, you couldn't prevent the gasp that escaped your lips. Minho pulled you in closer pushing himself deeper, your walls clenched around him, he just hoped you could feel each vein and curve through the condom. He wanted you to remember each part of him, you didn't need anyone else, he was the only one who could bring you this much pleasure, not Hyunjin.

"M-Minho." Your chest was heaving as you tried your best to relax, despite how foreign this feeling was. There was no way you wanted him to stop, you were a big girl, you could handle it.

"Y/n I hope you know that you're mine, no one else gets this sweet pussy."

If you weren't clinging to the bed your hands would be holding onto his hips, begging him to go faster, but all you had was a shaky voice that told Minho that you were about to start sobbing if he didn't fuck you like he meant it.

"Y/n you better stop me now I won't be able to control myself." Your eyes were glistening with tears as you answered him "I don't want you to control yourself, I'm yours Minho, take me." Lust was clouding your senses, you weren't even fully aware of how needy you sounded, just seeing his form through a shadowed figure cast on the wall wasn't enough. You needed to see him like this every damn day.

Minho pulled out slightly before thrusting back into you, he was telling the truth, he wasn't planning on holding back. His pace was quick and the sound of skin on skin turned you on even more, there was something so raw and passionate, it was strange but this had to be what love felt like.

"Minho, I think I'm close." "Already? But I was just getting started." "It just feels so good, I don't think I can hold it," Before your boyfriend could make you cum for the first time he stopped, much to your dismay. "Minho not now, I'm sorry I was playing with Hyunjin please, I want to cum!" Placing a kiss on your cheek Minho slapped your ass, immediately rubbing the red mark. It was hard to tell where the shadows cast by the lights started and where the faint bruises on your hips ended.

"Stop being dramatic y/n, stand up." You turned around to face Minho, even in the dim lighting you could see his eyes sparkling for you. Minho cupped your face in his hands, holding you so that he could gift you with a heated kiss. He pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

"I think you can put all that practice to good use." Letting go of you Minho removed his shirt, finally getting to his jeans he removed them and reclined back onto the bed.

Wasting no time you straddled him, sighing as he pushed inside of you. Instead of being tight and awkward your body invited him in. Parting your legs further you rolled your hips into him, repeating everything that you had done to defile that pillow. Minho gripped onto your hips yet again, but this time he traced over the bruises as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

The way you were rolling your hips just the way he had liked it, the way you were begging him for more. He knew he had something that the others could only dream of. Angling his hips fucked into you hard, his moans becoming one with the creaking of the bed.

He met a spot in the deepest part of your body, brushing against it, once or twice or was it three times? You had no idea but the way his tip brushed against you sent you straight to your own personal heaven. "Minho, I'm going to cum again, make me cum, I want it so bad." The way you had fallen apart on top of him was everything he had ever dreamt of, there was no way you were going to find a better fuck. Not even Hyunjin would make you feel like this.

Your walls clenching around him was enough to drive him over the edge, pulling out of you Minho came on your lower stomach.

The white streaks on your abdomen and the dazed look you wore was heaven, even though he felt like he committed the sin of ruining his angel. Pulling into his arms Minho kissed your cheek, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. It hadn't taken long for sleep to overtake you, cuddling into Minho you were too far away to even acknowledge the desperate, loving words he whispered to you, ones laced in sin. Even if that was the case you were conscious enough to know the gravity of the entire situation. There was no way you were getting over Lee Minho.

----

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auspicioustidings · 1 year ago

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JUST READ SAVAGE AND IT REALLY DID SOMETHING TO ME OH MY GOD. 🫣🫣

I love all your writing but this!! THIS!! This touched some weird part in my brain I didn't know existed.

I'm sorry if I'm just mindlessly mumbling here but I really don't know how to praise something normally. I just have so many emotions about this piece?? Regular words won't cut it, they can't describe how I feel.

Gotta go to sleep fantasizing about possible plot's and continuations........ Because here's so much potential!! I love medieval settings because of angst and drama opportunities and this one is just absolutely perfect!! All trauma and uncertainty reader would have to experience because of Soap's and Ghost's behaviors is just sooo tasty!! 5 Michelin stars dish right here. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Just thanks for writing it!! It really made my night.

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH! I know I keep saying it, but heavy smut is truly not my wheelhouse, so posting this was a nerve-wracking experience.

I don't think I'll ever write a full continuation, but happy to bounce off of ideas if y'all have any :)

Luckily me and Noel were discussing what we think would happen after, so I've summarised those ideas below the cut!

CW: non-con

Think what would happen is Simon gets you back, is violent in punishing you then turns gentle and loving to brainwash you into adoring him (much like Johnny just did). Curiously though he also keeps you near the border not very well guarded instead of moving you further in country. Cue these two men who hate each other stealing you for the other, punishing you for being with them and then moving onto making you fall in love with them. It's confusing, it's awful, they are trying to one up one another by leaving permanent marks (Johnny bites you so hard it scars) or putting permanent jewellery on you (Simon is watching the necklace and bracelets get permanently connected by the smith and is getting hard just thinking about how the fucking animal up North will react seeing that).

They both say mean, degrading shit to you as if you are the one always going to the other man and speading your legs and not being kidnapped and forced. Simon out of the two is scarier in his threats, tells you (this bit is fully Noel and it made me see stars):

"Maybe I ought to just throw you back to that MacTavish, like the filth that you are." Fucking spits out the name like it's a curse alone, never losing his brutal rhythm pounding into you. "Fuckin' tart, I can feel you getting tighter just mentioning that bastard rogue. Don't you forget, you belong to me."

Things change when you are crossing the border one day. This game has been going on so long that sometimes they just let you go yourself. You run into a small unit of soldiers from France and they take you. Johnny and Simon both think you are with the other, so it isn't until Johnny shows up pounding on Simon's door because he wants you back and he's hidden you too well that they realise neither has seen you for a month.

They rescue you of course but you are so broken (when they find you, you are so happy to see them and they realise you think that you are dying and this is a vision) that both of them abandon their posts and whisk you off to a peaceful country somewhere to heal. They don't have one mean word to say to you, they're never violent with how they touch you.

Your little home they build is filled with kids soon enough and it's this lovely, soft life. Then the kids are all sent off to boarding school and they revert back to the good old days of fucking you into the dirt and then sending you back to the other to see what creative ways they can be rougher <3

#mhairidrabbles #anytime Noel has ever entertained one of my ideas it actually takes a year off of my life how fucking good her ideas are #mhairianswers

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shaunamilfman · 1 year ago

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Dating Lottienat

pre-crash headcanons

Lottie and you would definitely start hooking up in a fwb situation where you started messing around because both of you knew the other had feelings for Nat. it began as a getting over Nat by getting under someone else, but you guys ended up falling for each other as well and further complicated the situation.

Nat walks in on y'all messing around one day and gets super jealous, so yall just decide to fuck about it. Nat would definitely assume she was just a hookup for the both of you and would avoid the two of you after instead of having to be emotionally vulnerable for even a second.

you and lottie corner her in the locker room after practice one day and are all like “not even going to call us after?”/ “your child support payment is late 😒”. Nat's ass is so confused but is all for it after a quick conversation about how you guys feel about her.

she just giddily follows the two of you around school for the next few days. she'd be ever so smug about it, but she'd also be super whipped for the both of yall. whenever she gets particularly insufferable Lottie just bats her eyelashes all like “could you get me a soda from the vending machine?” and Nat just 🏃💨

you and Lottie having competitions to see which one of you can embarrass Nat the quickest in public. Lottie for sure has absolutely no shame and would enjoy a good competition. Poor Nat suffers the consequences of your competitive streak though. Imagining Nat burying her head in your shoulder and blushing to her ears in embarrassment over something Lottie did in public. Lottie giving you a smug look in the background as she practically skips over to the two of you.

you and Nat would spend a lot of time at Lottie's empty house. Both Lottie and Nat view home as a particularly stressful place, and they'd really blossom if given a safe place to actually consider home. Nat and Lottie both would really let their guards down if given consistent positive attention, which neither of them have ever really received before.

it does not matter what position you fell asleep in, because you will not wake up that way. You're not sure if the two of them do it in their sleep, or if they purposely do it after the others have fallen asleep but you always wake up in the weirdest positions. Once you fell asleep spooning Lottie and woke up somehow spooning Nat. Neither you nor Lottie could figure out the logistics of that one, but Nat was surprisingly tight-lipped about it.

After falling asleep laying fully on top of Nat and waking up with half your torso being pulled off of her by Lottie you tried to feign sleep to catch them in the act. Either it really was done unconsciously or they were smart enough to realize you were still awake, but you gave up trying to catch them after two nights of nothing.

Lottie loves when you wear her clothes. T-shirts, pants, socks, doesn't matter as long as it belongs to her. Nat, on the other hand, is mostly apathetic to the whole thing. She's never been particularly possessive in that way. She does, however, go absolutely feral the first time she walks in and sees you fast asleep in nothing but her boxers and her nirvana t-shirt. There's something about that specific combination that just drives her wild.

speaking of which, one of the biggest fights the three of you ever get in is when you and Lottie plot together to buy Nat's letterman. She's beyond angry when she finds out and yell about the two of you going behind her back, but really she's just embarrassed. She thinks the two of you buying the jacket for her is a negative reflection on her. The fight really only ends when you interrupt her to sheepishly admit that you and Lottie hadn't bought it with her in mind, and instead were planning split custody of it. She sputters in disbelief and she looks between the two of you and blushes all the way up to her ears. She goes bright red and shyly turns away every time the two of you see her for the next week. You do end up having a serious conversation about it, but you can't help but enjoy the way she hungrily watches you every time you wear it.

Lottie has a love-hate relationship for when her parents call to cancel their visits with her. As a kid she always hated it and would be inconsolable for days; Not, of course, that she had anyone that would try to console her. Now she has pretty mixed feelings about the whole thing. She so desperately wants her parents to love her, but at the same time she knows now that that isn't what love should look like. She still cries sometimes when they cancel, but sometimes she doesn't. Everytime they call you and Nat are there to pick up the pieces. You bring her to bed with you and hold her between the two of you until she falls asleep, not letting go until you have to get ready for school the next morning.

Nat and Lottie always get upset when your parents demand that you come home, though they're both too embarrassed to admit it. Still, you can't help but notice the intensity of their clinginess at school until your parents allow you to return.

#lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader

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missetbilu · 2 years ago

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HER*

remus lupin x fem!reader, smut

remus had spent more time than he would like to admit thinking about you. never had he believed his fantasies would come true.

warnings: slightly nsfw, mentions of sex; reader is of age!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORK!

We make love to each other on Saturday nights. It's our thing now. The school is much more calm, there are no classes to attend to, no one to interrupt us. However, it first started on a Friday.

I had just returned to my room and was anxiously organizing the mess in there, trying to get my mind out of the events of the last class of the day. Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts had been fairly easy, I enjoyed the subject and got along well with my students. But she was making it a little harder. I could feel her eyes on me; which was expected, all students were supposed to be looking at me as I explained whatever creature was in for the day; only her stare was filled with something else. Something that, although I couldn't fully comprehend, I deeply wished it to be lust.

That particular day she was very fidgety. Moving around, playing with her parchment, dropping her quill. I had mastered a way of paying attention to her without anyone noticing. I knew it was wrong, but maybe that only made it all more enticing. When I did allow myself to take a glance, I hoped she would be bent over to grab something off the floor; or be sitting with her arms crossed, gently squeezing her breasts together underneath the thin fabric of her uniform shirt. I got lucky with those views multiple times on that warm Friday afternoon.

By the end of the class the students were leaving, but Y/N was behind. As messy as she had been during the lecture, it was no surprise she was having a hard time stuffing her belongings into a bag.

"Do you need any help, Miss Y/L/N?" I offered, even though I wanted for her to struggle a little longer, just so I could watch her.

"Oh, it's okay." She chuckled, blushing slightly. "I'm sorry to be taking your time, I'm sure you just want to lock the classroom and head to your quarters."

"No need to apologise." I walked over to the girl as she placed one last item in her bag.

"I think this was all." She pulled it to her shoulder, but before she could leave I pointed out a quill on the floor.

"Is that not yours?"

"Yes! It is." She let out another nervous chuckle and I allowed myself to believe she was flustered because she felt attracted to me.

We both sank down to our knees to get the quill. Her hand brushed mine and she pulled it away quickly, but neither of us got up instantly, we stayed in that position, looking deep into each other's eyes. I had to fight the desire to look down to her chest. I wondered what color her bra could be, being this close and in this position I would probably be able to tell. But I stopped myself from checking. Unfortunately, instead I found my eyes dropping to her lips. Plump and beautiful. Maybe it's not even a second, but it feels like eternity before she stands. I follow suit and hand her the object.

"Thank you, professor."

That last sentence kept replaying in my head as I moved piles of books from my desk to the floor with hopes of organizing them into the bookshelf on the corner of my room. It played in my head as I heard a knock on the door. Part of me secretly hoped it would be her. I thought of all the things I would do if Y/N was standing right outside my door. I couldn't decide if I wanted my fantasies to be slow and loving or fast and rough, full of desperation for each other. Before I could do so, there was another knock and I pulled myself back to reality rushing to the door.

And there she was. I blinked a few times before responding to her joyful "hello", scared it might be just my imagination running too wild.

"Hello." I said, eyeing her up and down. Y/N was still in her uniform and she held a book to her chest.

"Professor..." She seemed nervous. Even more than previously. "I think I might need some help with this paper you assigned us..."

"For next week? The one on Goblins?"

"Precisely. I'm afraid I didn't quite understand what we need to be writing on them."

"I spoke about this activity last class and gave the instructions once again today, miss Y/L/N."

"I know, I'm sorry, professor, I suppose I wasn't paying as much attention as I should." She almost whined giving her response.

"You did seem a little distracted today." I said with a low voice. Fuck don't think about how she looked while absentmindedly biting her lip. "A lot on your mind?" She bit her lip with my question, as if she could read my mind.

"I suppose you could say that." We stood there in silence, analysing each other. I wondered if she was blushing because this was an awkward situation for her, just a student wanting some help with homework. But perhaps there was a tiny chance her motives were far from academic. I decided to take a leap of faith, letting my craving for the girl in front of me speak louder than my reason.

"Are you really here to ask me about the assignment?" After a couple of seconds she shook her head no. "But you do have something clouding those thoughts, something to do with me?" She nodded slowly, her chest heaving up and down. "Would you care to tell me what?"

"Can I..." She took a deep breath. "Can I show you, professor?" I felt the need to take her right then and there, more than ever before. For a moment I was afraid of answering. Afraid that my voice would falter from the pure lust I had in me.

"Please do."

She gently placed her hand on my cheek. It was soft and tiny. I wanted to close my eyes, to dwell on the feeling of it against my skin. But then she gave me something else to linger on. She kissed me. Getting on her tiptoes, she crashed her lips on mine. It was delicate, smooth. I felt the urge to pull her closer by the waist, but it was so tender, so innocent, that I held back. Y/N ran away as soon as we disconnected our lips. It lasted less than a minute, but it made me helpless for her.

Now I have much more than just a kiss to think about when I'm all alone, or at dinner when I take no interest in the conversations around me, or even when I'm teaching a class full of eager students. After quite some time of meeting her in the utmost secrecy, I can let my mind wander to all the nights she allowed me go down on her sweet cunt, or to restlessly fuck her stupid. Nights much like this one.

Y/N had my shirt on as she walked up to the trunk by the end of my bed.

"I saw the other day that you have some whiskey in here." She opened it up and smirked at me, pulling out the bottle. "Do you care for it?" I was lazily lying on the bed, still bare, observing her stunning form.

"A young girl like you shouldn't drink that." She flicked the cap open and sat next to me on the edge of the bed.

"I'm not just a girl." Y/N took a sip, scrunching her face with the taste. "I'm a woman." She said, placing a kiss to my lips.

"As long as you promise to always be my girl." I kissed her deeply. Before I could do more, she pulled away, glancing at the record player on my desk, that softly hummed a tune from the fifties that just added to our loving atmosphere.

"Can I change the song?"

"Of course."

She ran her hand through my records and picked one without allowing me to see it. I sighed, having a perfect view of her back, as she bent down to place the needle on the right track.

*Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon - Urge Overkill*

Girl

I chuckled, immediately recognising the song. Her hips rocked from side to side in sync with the rhythm.

You'll be a woman soon.

[...]

She mouthed the words, swaying seductively and staring into my eyes. I watched in awe as she walked to the other side of the bed, crawling on top of it. Y/N positioned herself in between my legs, making her way up to me. Her mouth hovered over mine and she swerved when I tried to kiss her, chuckling at my frustrated groan. Until I took a hold of her and spun her body around, pinning her down to the mattress, a devious smile on my face. She gasped out of surprise but soon was giggling as I placed quick pecks along her collarbone and neck. It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. Everytime I listen to her laughter I just want for it to never cease. Well, that is unless I feel like replacing it with her moans and whimpers of my name. Oh what lovely sounds she makes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: It’s been sooooo long since I last posted, but I have all these fics siting on a google docs so I figured they should be allowed to see the light of day :)

#remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #harry potter smut #marauders smut #fifi-writes

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felicitysmoaksx · 25 days ago

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❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜

Day 2 of the Advent Prompt Challenge! Set during 4x10 of Chicago Med and this also falls in my Voight Family Values Universe but before Connor actually defined his relationship with Sarah.

For the first time since they started sleeping together, Sarah found herself flinching away from Connor's hands. "You should've stayed last night." He muttered low enough for just the curly-haired brunette to hear, after he all but pushed Natalie Manning out of the way and took over the treatment of her bullet wound himself, "Then I could've driven you and this wouldn't have happened."

Sarah couldn't do much more than roll her brown eyes at him and shake her head. It was such a guy thing to say and caveman reaction to have.

"If I hadn't been there, then April, Doris or Monique could've been hit and hurt instead. I'm glad it was me." She muttered back.

"I am so sorry, Sarah." Natalie unknowingly cut in just as Connor's eyes darkened into murky storm clouds and narrowed at her. She passed Dr. Rhodes another piece of gauze so he could staunch the bleeding. It had slowed some, but not enough for the doctors around her to quit tending to her. "It's terrifying to be shot at. I can't believe you were hit."

"Neither can I," Connor's agreed darkly. Another eye roll.

"I'm fine," she reassured both of the doctors. But it was aimed more towards the man who regularly shared his bed with her. Then she looked fully at Dr. Manning because she could already hear Connor's response to her next question in her head.

"I'd like to go to work, if you'll sign off on it."

"Really?" Monique and April asked in unison from their places behind her while Connor said, "Sarah, you were shot at and hit. You should go home."

(Neither Sarah nor Connor saw the puzzled look Dr. Manning and the two nurses shared. Since they were at odds with each other, they didn't realize they were using a degree of familiarity, Gaffney hadn't yet seen from them.)

"I'm fine, Connor." She emphasized to him. It wasn't the first time a weapon was aimed at her. Then she saw Alvin Olinsky turn a corner. She held in a sigh. Because if Uncle Alvin was here then her day just got that much more difficult. They locked eyes and he made a beeline for her.

Sarah held in her eye roll and another sigh as the older man stopped just before entering the treatment bay. "Hey kid, heard you had quite the morning."

Now all doctors and nurses minus Sarah were sharing looks of puzzlement because they had never heard this degree of familiarity from Reese and Detective Olinsky. (That they knew of.)

"Honestly, I'm surprised you're not Dad or Erin,"

Uncle Alvin smirked, "I'm as close as they can get because Commander Crowley knows exactly who you belong to."

#one chicago #chicago med #Rheese #Sarah Reese #Connor Rhodes #my writing #Voight Family Values #felicitysmoaksx 2024 advent writing challenge

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differenteagletragedy · 1 year ago

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Our Life Swap AU continues to haunt me. This one begins sometime between Step 2 and 3. Baxter and MC befriend a stray cat and they pay attention to that instead of to their feelings.

The first time the cat came around, Baxter was having a bad day.

You weren't sure exactly why, but you could tell by his demeanor that it wasn't the time to pry. He'd tell you eventually whatever it was that had happened, he always did, but sometimes it was better for him to push the bad things away at first and to let a little light back in before he could face them. You were, he'd often told you, that light for him.

He'd come over that afternoon, and the two of you were sitting outside your house, just talking about nothing in particular, when the cat showed up. It was a stray, you could tell that much, and had a black coat with some white markings that made it look like it was wearing a tuxedo.

Baxter had brightened up when he saw you, but at the sight of the cat, he began beaming.

Your best friend always loved being fancy, he had since he was small, but he was no snob, so it wasn't a surprise when he knelt down right on the street and held his hand out, trying to coax the cat over.

"Here, kitty kitty," he began saying in such a soft, earnest voice that you couldn't help but smile.

"Careful," you told him, but the warning was unnecessary. Almost as if it sensed that Baxter could use the extra support, the cat cautiously made its way over to his outstretched hand and lightly touched it with its nose.

"I think it likes you," you said.

Judging by the massive grin he shot back at you, dimples shown prominently in his smooth cheeks, the feeling was mutual.

The rest of the afternoon was spent focused solely on the cat. You theorized where it came from, how old was, if it was a boy cat or a girl cat. Baxter in particular wondered about its family, and he came up with an elaborate backstory spanning generations before you thought to ask a more basic question.

"What do you think we should name it?"

He took a moment, looking the cat over, then said "Busby."

Smiles came awfully easy that day, and you gave another then. Before you met your friend, you'd never heard the name, but it was one that belonged to his favorite film director. Memories of watching Busby Berkeley movies, black and white classics with big dance numbers that he thought were absolutely magical, came to mind. Considering the cat's built-in formalwear, it was a fitting name.

"Busby it is," you told him.

You both knew you couldn't keep the cat. Your parents wouldn't allow pets, and neither would Baxter's. You decided to spend the day with it until you had to go back inside for the night and then bid it farewell, but Busby had other plans.

Day after day, week after week, the cat came back to your neighborhood. Eventually months went by, then a year, then a couple more, and your furry friend still made a point to stop by for food and pets nearly every day.

The week before Baxter left for college, the two of you sat outside your house like you'd done countless times, taking turns petting Busby and imagining all the adventures he'd been going on when he wasn't with you. At one point, the cat climbed on Baxter's lap and started kneading his stomach with its little paws. You both heard a loud purr, then it nuzzled its head firmly against his chin.

"I'm going to miss this more than words could possibly express," he said softly. You caught him glance at you, but before you could properly meet his eyes they turned back to the cat.

"Me too."

He was moving to Virginia for school, across the entire country. You'd been thinking about it constantly since he'd dropped the news, but it wasn't something you'd be able to fully grasp until he was gone. The idea that Baxter wouldn't be nearly within arm's reach every day was unfathomable. You knew it was something he felt like he had to do -- he was desperate to put as much distance as possible between him and his parents, and he wanted so badly to prove that he was capable of making it on his own. But still, life wouldn't be the same without him so close.

"Moms are going to keep taking care of our little friend?" he asked, giving Busby a gentle scratch behind the ears.

You nodded, reaching over to stroke the cat's back. In doing so, you scooted closer to Baxter, enough that your legs were touching and you could feel the heat coming off of him.

"And you're going to keep taking care of yourself?"

You looked up at him at that, and he looked back this time, his expression full of meaning. You saw ten years worth of caring in his eyes, what felt like almost a lifetime worth of love.

"Of course," you told him. "And you'll do the same?"

Instead of answering, he brought one hand away from your best furry friend and used it to slide around your shoulders. You felt him give you a squeeze before he pulled you against him, and he placed a firm kiss on your temple. You let out a shaky sign and leaned into it -- it lasted long enough for that -- and hoped that your own expression showed the same kind of friendly love and affection, that it didn't give away the years of longing that you'd felt for him.

"I'll take care of you too," he said, landing a series of smaller kisses along your cheek and forehead. It felt impossibly intimate between just-friends, but you didn't dare stop him from doing it.

"Always," he continued. "We may not be living on the same street or in the same state, but I hope you do know that you have a home in my heart. Anything you need, anything at all, for as long as you live, that will be my priority."

It was a heavy promise, but you didn't doubt he was sincere. He shifted slightly, pulling you a little harder against him. Another one of his kisses went further in your cheek, almost to the corner of your mouth. He stopped, taking a moment to look at you. There was a question in his eyes, and a sort of darkness you didn't recognize.

You'd wanted Baxter for a very, very long time. You'd thought about him looking at you like this, feeling his lips on your skin, more and more as time went on. Every time, you convinced yourself that your feelings were one-sided -- how could someone as beautiful and sweet and funny and perfect as him possibly want you?

But now, it felt a little different. His eyes trailed down to your lips, and he leaned a fraction closer.

"What if I need ear scratches?" you whispered, looking back down to the cat, deflecting because that was safer than whatever this was.

A moment passed, then Baxter's hand, which had made its way down to your hip at some point during his declaration, came up to your head. You felt gentle scratches against your scalp, and one more kiss on your cheek.

"I'll give you whatever you want," he told you.

#our life beginnings and always #our life #olba #our life baxter #baxter ward #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #baxter x you #baxter ward x you #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #our life swap au #this mc is gonna be the death of me i swear #open your eyes baby doll he is right there for the taking

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jessicapendragon · 13 days ago

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wip rolling in my head

He turns his eyes away from the shifted scenery and watches her swirl tendrils of the Fade between fingers, the shape of her desire yet to take form.

"The Viddasala. She thought that if she could discover your true name it would tell her how to win over you. In the end she came to the same conclusion I had, that you were Solas, no agent of Fen'Harel but the god himself."

She stands and the scene moves with her, to a precipice with a grand eluvian. To a place of regret for the both of them.

"Neither of us could stop you, could we? We did not understand you fully. We did not have your true name after all."

Her false hand lets go of its idle task, Fade flurrying off into the ether, and instead her touch lands on his cheek, thumb brushing over the new scar there.

"You were Wisdom, long before you were anything. Wisdom turned to Pride. Had I known, do you think things would have been the same?" There is a pained, frustrated scowl. "How could I not have seen?"

He shakes his head, hand grasping her other and bringing it to rest over his chest. "You would have, my clever heart. It was why I could not remain., no matter how I wished to."

"And now you are stuck with me forever." At that he laughs, moving his head to kiss the inside of her palm under the sight of her grin.

"A fate I do not deserve."

"Who do you wish to be now?" she asks after a pause.

"Someone who would deserve it," he answers without one. "And as Solas, as you have always known me."

Once, it was a curse, a reminder, a vindication. A change so sudden and so long ignored. Now he lays Pride at her feet and sees only wisdom in it. It belongs with her, as he does.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #solas x lavellan #solavellan #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #just in case #idk where im going with this but i love them your honor

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campgender · 1 month ago

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Cold War Hollywood cinema & the threat of the femme to the binary

Conclusion to Cold War Femme by Robert J. Corber (2011)

transcript under the cut

“[…] It didn’t want her to leave, and her poor bedeviled mind wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Poor Eleanor!” But Theo rejects this interpretation and provides an alternative construction of Eleanor’s desire, which does not deprive her of sexual agency: “Maybe not ‘poor Eleanor.’ It was what she wanted, to stay here. She had no place else to go. The house belongs to her now, too. Maybe she’s happier.”

In this way, the movie indirectly challenged the discourse of female homosexuality that circulated in American society during the Cold War era. In associating Eleanor’s sexuality with the supernatural, the movie suggests that it defies explanation. As a feminine woman who has made a lesbian object choice, her desire cannot be attributed to a pathological identification with masculinity. Rather, it requires an explanation that acknowledges her diference from the butch Theo.

The movie’s deviation from the Cold War construction of the lesbian surfaces more fully in its refusal to contain Eleanor’s desire. In the Cold War era movies tended to adopt one of two strategies for containing the threat the femme allegedly posed to the dominant social order. Some movies, like All About Eve, masculinized the femme’s identity by drawing on an older model of sexuality to mark her as a lesbian. In suggesting that the femme’s femininity rendered her lesbianism invisible by disguising her identification with masculinity, these movies assimilated the femme’s desire to the Cold War discourse of female homosexuality, which attributed the development of lesbian identities to a pathological rejection of femininity.

Other movies, like Marnie, contained the femme’s desire by ultimately realigning it with the institutions of heterosexuality. Rather than attribute the heroine’s perverse sexuality to a rejection of femininity that glossed over the diferences between her and the butch, these movies instead rendered her lesbianism “artificial” by attributing it to a traumatic childhood experience. Also drawing on an older model of sexuality, these movies assumed that the feminine woman who made a lesbian object choice was less deviant than the masculine women who did and thus could reorient her desire.

In adopting these strategies, Hollywood cinema refused to acknowledge the femme’s diference from both the butch and the straight woman. The Haunting adopts a diferent strategy: it kills off its heroine. It thereby indirectly validated the new system of sexual classification, which privileged object choice over gender identity. Eleanor’s femininity neither masks an identification with masculinity, nor indicates that she can be incorporated into the institutions of heterosexuality.

Unlike many of the heroines we have encountered in this book, Eleanor’s attempt to realign her sexuality with the law fails. She displaces her desire for Theo onto Dr. Markway, whose paternalistic interest in her she mistakes for love. But in so doing, she replaces an accessible object of desire with an inaccessible one. She does not realize that Dr. Markway has a wife (Lois Maxwell), until she shows up unexpectedly at Hill House to inform him that newspaper reporters are on his trail and to persuade him to abandon his experiment, of which she disapproves.

Mrs. Markway’s appearance precipitates a crisis in which Eleanor imagines that she wants to take her place in the house. Mrs. Markway disappears into the house after being terrifed by a supernatural experience in the nursery, the “cold, rotten heart” of the house where she has insisted on spending the night, and she gets lost searching for her husband. Eleanor increasingly takes on Hill House’s “sick” and “deranged” identity, indirectly confrming the perversity of her desire. In one of her voice-overs, which punctuate the movie, she remarks that she has begun to disappear into the house “inch by inch.”

When Dr. Markway insists that she leave the house while he and the others remain behind to search for his missing wife, she exclaims, “I’m the one who’s supposed to stay. She’s taken my place.” But Hill House cannot incorporate the normative Mrs. Markway, and it ejects her. By contrast, Eleanor’s death in the fnal scene insures that she retains her place in the house as a “kindred spirit.” Eleanor crashes her car into the tree when Mrs. Markway—who in a fluttering white nightgown looks like a ghost—frightens her by darting across the road, and she swerves to avoid hitting her. Despite her normative gender identity, Eleanor cannot be incorporated into the dominant social order.

But even as it acknowledges Eleanor’s diference from both Theo and Mrs. Markway, The Haunting provides a psychoanalytic explanation of her “abnormal” sexuality. Eleanor’s history bears an uncanny resemblance to that of Abigail and her paid companion. After Hugh Crain dies abroad, Abigail continues to inhabit the nursery, which suggests that his death arrests her development by preventing her from resolving the Oedipus complex.

She dies an old woman in the nursery when her companion has a tryst with one of the local “farmhands” on the veranda and fails to hear her when she knocks her cane against the wall. The tryst emerges as a violation of the companion’s homosocial bond with her mistress. After Abigail’s death, the companion lives on in the house in “complete solitude,” and haunted by her role in her mistress’s death she eventually commits suicide by hanging herself from the railing of the circular staircase in the library.

Abigail’s death has the same impact on the companion as her father’s death had on her. It arrests the companion’s development by turning her away from heterosexual romance. This representation of the companion’s relationship with her mistress reinforces the association between lesbianism and the supernatural in the movie. The nursery emerges as a site of perverse female desire, Hill House’s “cold, rotten heart,” which explains Mrs. Markway’s terror when she attempts to occupy it.

The representation also provides an explanation for Eleanor’s deviant sexuality by drawing a parallel between her and the companion. Eleanor feels guilty about her mother’s death and increasingly identifes with the companion. Like Abigail, Eleanor’s mother pounded on the wall of her room when she needed her. The night she died, Eleanor ignored her pounding and went back to sleep. Eleanor’s identification with the companion suggests that her guilt about her mother’s death has arrested her development; hence her desire for other women.

Tis treatment of Eleanor’s sexuality suggests that the feminine woman who made a lesbian object choice posed an even greater threat to American society than the Cold War construction of the lesbian indicated. In the Cold War era, Hollywood movies tended to promote lesbian panic by underscoring the femme’s ability to pass as a “normal” woman. Reinforcing the association between lesbianism and communism in Cold War culture, these movies attempted to show that the femme’s resemblance to the straight woman enabled her to spread her “abnormal” sexuality throughout society while escaping detection.

By contrast, in insisting on her diference from the butch and the straight woman, The Haunting attempted to show that the femme threatened to destabilize the binary construction of gender and sexuality. As her choice of the paternalistic Dr. Markway as a father substitute indicates, despite her identification with femininity, Eleanor cannot resume her Oedipal journey, which her relationship with her mother has interrupted.

Nor does her death in the fnal scene contain her “monstrous” desire. Her closing voice-over confirms Theo’s belief that Hill House now belongs to her, as well as to the other female ghosts who haunt it. Echoing Dr. Markway’s opening voice-over, Eleanor informs the viewer, “We who walk here walk alone,” as an image of Hill House appears on the screen.

In this way, The Haunting showed that in trying to repress the femme’s diference as a subject of desire, the Cold War construction of the lesbian had failed to counteract the threat she posed to American society. At once similar to and diferent from the butch and the straight woman, the femme continued to haunt the normative construction of American womanhood.

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rose-sophia-isabella-rogers · 11 months ago

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A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter XV - Shades of the Past

Chapter Summary: On your way to Os Alta, you reminiscence about what happened after Aleksander died. Once you reach the capital, you search for your friends to plan your next moves. But instead you find something unexpected.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky, David Kostyk/Genya Safin

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, Yuri Vedenen, Fedyor Kaminsky, Ivan, Baghra, Isaak Andreyev, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Tolya Yul-Bataar, Tamar Kir-Bataar

Word Count: 4936

A/N: This is the last chapter that has excerpts from "King of Scars". I haven't read "Rule of Wolves" yet, so from now on it will be fully my imagination. Enjoy!

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

@marrymonrich

@wonderland2425

@chelseyyouraverageluigi

@thehufflepuffavenger1

@drinix

You sat in a tent, guarded by one Heartrender. He was eyeing you with open hostility and was on his guard. Not that it mattered to you. Neither his opinion nor his vigilance. You were not intending to escape anyway.

Out of the blue, the Grisha fell on the ground and started snoring. You stared at him, dumbfounded. The flaps of the tent moved aside and you saw two familiar faces, one of them grinning at you.

'Fedyor? Ivan?' you asked, stunned. They walked inside and headed your way.

'You're really fast on a horse when you want to,' Kaminsky said and reached for your bonds. 'We were too late to stop them from taking you, but your rescue is here now.'

'No,' you protested sharply, pulling your hands out of Heartrenders reach. They looked at you with confusion. You exhaled shakily.

'I'm exactly where I want to be,' you explained, which got you doubtful looks. 'Well, at least where I need to be.'

'[Y/N]...' Fedyor says softly. 'Don't give up on your life. Nor punish yourself for his choices. He wouldn't want that.'

'I'm not,' you assured them and looked at them with determination. 'If… When I'm taken to the tent he's held in, can you knock out the guard and join me there?'

'Are we going to steal his body?' Ivan asked, interested. You smiled and answered:

'Something like that, yes. Oh, and find some dead body that looks similar to him.'

Not long after you were taken to the tent in which Aleksander's body is being guarded, so no one would attempt what you're about to. For a moment you stared at his peaceful face. Your heart broke once more.

Then the guard that was with you fell asleep on a chair he's sitting on. You didn't even turn when Fedyor and Ivan walked in, dragging a body with them.

'I'm really surprised no one paid any attention to us,' Kaminsky comments, once they drop the body next to you.

'We acted like we belonged, so why would they?' Ivan asked. His lover shrugs and they both look at Kirigan's body. Silence fell. You caressed his cheek gently.

'So… what exactly are we going to do?' Ivan finally asks.

'How are your tailoring skills?' you questioned. The Heartrenders exchange a surprised look.

'Um… we weren't exactly taught that,' Fedyor admitted. 'We just know the basics.'

'It's enough,' you said. 'We just need it to hold until the funeral.'

The Heartrenders didn't ask more questions for now and got to work. Once the fake body was ready, you prepared it: combed hair, folded hands on chest…

'And what about…?' Ivan asked, looking at the Darkling's body that was now lying on the ground. You kneeled by it.

'We're going to hide it in the sands of the Fold,' you said. 'Make sure no one comes in too early. I'm not sure how long it will take.'

You took a moment to look one last time for Saints know how long at his face. You put your hands on his chest and did what you could to make sure the body will preserve for a long time. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and pressed your palms to the ground. Slowly, his body sank in the ground. You asked the earth, stones, sands to take it and keep it safe in the place he died. Once you were done, you were sweating and breathing heavily.

'Was there a point in all of this?' Ivan asked. 'Or we just don't want him to burn?'

'We're going to bring him back,' you explained after a moment, surprising both men. 'He's not completely gone. Some of his power is still in this world. It's enough to make him alive again. We just have to wait for an opportune moment.'

'How long?' Fedyor asked.

'As long as it's needed,' you answered.

'And where did his power preserve?' Ivan questioned.

'In Nikolai Lantsov,' you revealed, once again shocking the men. They had more questions but your time was up. You made plans. They were to stay hidden, keep a close eye on the Fold, until you were going to be free and knew how to bring Aleksander back.

Once every detail was settled, the Heartrenders hugged you goodbye, not really wanting to leave you to be locked in a cell. But they went and woke up the guard.

He did it slowly, but once he realised that he must have fallen asleep, he sat up with alarm. His eyes found you, standing by the Darkling's body, looking at him with amusement. He blushed and looked down. You shook your head and did the finishing touches on 'Kirigan's' body. All that was left was to burn it.

That night you fell asleep in the tent. But you dream of another tent. You're standing in the middle of the place you had spent your last sweet moments with him. You could feel him behind you, staring at you.

'Is it a nice dream or will it turn into a nightmare soon?' you asked.

'What if I told you that it's not a dream at all?' the Darkling asked. You heard him walking slowly toward you.

'I'm not stupid, I know it is,' you said. 'You're dead, Aleksander. I held you when you died.'

'You also know a part of me is still alive,' he said, his breath tickling your neck. 'You felt it. And you decided to preserve my body in hopes of bringing me back. I'm grateful for that. And aware I don't deserve you.'

'No, you don't,' you agreed. 'But I still want only you. I'm scared.'

He hugged you from behind. You closed your eyes, biting your lips so as not to whimper. It felt so real.

'I know, milaya,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But please, hold on. Be brave. And once we're reunited, I will never leave you. I swear. I'll keep you safe and make you happy. Please, believe me.'

'And what then?' you asked. 'I bring you back and what will you do?'

'Whatever I must to keep you, Grisha and this country safe,' he answered after a pause. You shook your head with a bitter smile.

'Even after you died… you'll never change,' you said and pulled away from his embrace.

'What would you want me to do?' Kirigan asked. You thought for a moment.

'I would want to live in peace with others by your side,' you finally said. 'And if not, I'd like to leave all of this behind and just spend the rest of my life with you. Not fighting. Just living.'

'I don't know if I can do it,' the Darkling said after a moment. You smiled sadly.

'I know,' you whispered. 'But that's okay. I'll still bring you back and stay by your side. Until I can't anymore.'

'Milaya…' he said, his voice heartbroken. He hated to see you so hurt. Hated to be the reason you're in pain. He reached out with his hand to you, but eventually he let it drop.

'Why won't you look at me?' he asked.

'Because it would hurt too much,' you answered after a moment, your voice shaking. 'Seeing you alive, moving, with your eyes open. And knowing that when I wake up… it won't be real.'

'[Y/N]-' Aleksander said, reaching to you again, with tears in his eyes. But before he could finish, the dream was over. You opened your eyes and found yourself back in that other tent. Alone once more.

You were sitting on a cold floor, your knees pushed to the chest, spread and bound hands around them. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling above. Not that you could see much with so little light. Time no longer existed for you. It was just this – an empty cell, loneliness, silence…

Suddenly, there was a sound of coming footsteps. A little more light. Someone unlocking the door. More footsteps. The door closing again and retreating footsteps. A sigh.

'Something interesting up there?' Baghra asked.

'A crack in the ceiling,' you answered. 'A spider about to eat a fly. He moved in here yesterday and already ate three flies. I especially like him for eating this one. It annoyed me to no end. Go Herbert.'

'You named a spider,' Baghra said flatly.

'I must do something not to go mad,' you pointed out and finally looked at her. She looked at you with sadness that deepened when she took a good look on you.

Your cheeks were hollow. It was hard to see in this light, but she could tell your skin was yellow. There were dark circles under your eyes. Your mouth was dry and cracked. You were so thin you could be mistaken for a skeleton. Your hair was tangled and matte. But your eyes were the worst. Empty. With no spark whatsoever.

'You could escape,' Baghra said after a moment of silence. You tilted your head curiously.

'And then what?' you asked.

'Live a life,' the old women answered. 'You wouldn't be hunted. I would see to that. You could have a chance at something. And not this. You're a shadow of your former self.'

'Well, I can't use my powers,' you snarled, moving your bound hands. 'Also, I get enough food and water to be alive. And there's also very little light here. What do you expect? That I flourish here?'

'Then escape and find a reason to live,' Baghra said sternly but then her look softened. 'It's what he would want.'

You stiffened and your look hardened. You narrowed your eyes.

'I'm not here because I believe that's something he would want or wouldn't want,' you spat. 'Doing what he wanted got me here in the first place. I'm done with that. Not only because he's- I don't want to escape and live in hiding.'

'Surely it would be better than this,' the old woman argued.

'Why do you care?' you snapped. She looked at you sadly.

'Because I blame myself for not warning you about him sooner,' she answered.

'I was lost long before you could have warned me,' you said after a moment and turned your head. 'Leave me. I'm sure you have better things to do.'

She stared at you in silence. Finally, she sighed and stood up. A minute or so later you heard her leaving and the cell locking again. Less light again.

You became tired. You're not sure whether it was night or not, but because you couldn't use your powers, you're often tired and slept a lot. So, you turned to lay on your side and closed your eyes. You weren't even aware you're already dreaming, until you heard a voice:

'She's right, you know. I don't want this. I've never wanted this for you.'

You didn't react. Even in your sleep you're tired.

'Please, [Y/N],' Aleksander begged you. 'Get out of here. Live a life you should have.'

Your eyes snapped open. You sat up and sent him a glare. Months ago, you had stopped resisting and looking at him no longer hurt so much.

'You don't believe in me anymore?' you asked angrily. 'You don't think I'm brave. I'm not giving up. I'll endure in here as long as I have to until you're back.'

'You don't know how much longer it may take,' Kirigan said. 'It may very well take years. Decades.'

'I will sit in here even a century,' you argued fiercely. 'Even if it makes me go crazy. Because I don't want to walk in this world if you're not in it.'

The Darkling looked at you intensely. There still was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but you saw something else. Pride.

'That's my girl,' he whispered and cupped your cheek. 'Hold on to that anger. Hold to that anger that's always burnt in your soul. It will keep you alive and sane in here. But if you ever decide to escape, know that I'd understand. You've already suffered too much because of me.'

'I would suffer more,' you said, touching his hand on your face. You couldn't exactly feel it. Not like you did in the waking world. But it's still nice.

'I really don't deserve you,' Aleksander said after a beat. 'I'm sorry, lapushka.'

'Just come back to me,' you whispered. 'And don't stop coming.'

'I can't stop,' Kirigan confessed. 'It hurts both of us but I miss you so much.'

'I miss you too,' you said, tears falling from your eyes. 'So much…'

Aleksander kissed the tears away. You shivered.

'Hold on, [Y/N],' he pleaded. 'But don't punish yourself more. Please, milaya, don't lose yourself completely. If not for yourself, then do it for me.'

'I'll try,' you promised. Kirigan pressed his forehead to yours.

'That's all I ask, my love,' he said, his voice fading. 'That's all I ask…'

You opened your eyes. You're lying on the floor and there's no one there with you. You felt a ping of sadness.

But then you sat up, your eyes filled with resolve. You looked at your bonds. You can't touch your hands to use your powers. But Baghra believed you can free yourself and you're sure others also agreed it's possible. Because you're a Durast. And your bonds were made of solid things. And aren't they an extending of your hands?

The lock clicked. You smirked and let it drop on the floor. You massaged your sore wrists and looked around the cell. First, you touch the floor and make the stones a bit warmer. Not enough for others to detect, but for you not to feel cold. Then, you looked up and concentrated on the crack in the ceiling. Not to mend it, but make it bigger for your spider friend, so he could hide and sleep.

You used your powers for a bit more, until you put the bonds on your hands again and locked them again. Just in time, as a moment later a guard came in with food. He glanced at you, making sure the bonds are intact and walked away. But if he had looked closer, he would have noticed your skin is more grey than yellow. And that there's an amused, wicked glint in your eyes.

Two and half years. And finally, you were free. After they got you out, you cleaned yourself and dressed in new clothes. Or maybe your old ones? You indented to fix your kefta from Aleksander and then wear it again. For now, it would have to do.

You spent the rest of the day in a workshop, using your powers and avoiding the looks of others. It took you a little time to regain a better look and strength.

Few nights later, once you're looking like your old self again and using your powers brings you joy and more strength, you find yourself in Aleksander's old chambers in your dream. You're sitting by the table you had used to drink teas by. Kirigan was sitting opposite to you, smiling at you.

'I may hate what jurda parem does to Grisha, but it did make one good thing,' he said. 'It got you out of that cell. I can't tell you how happy that makes me, milaya.'

'I told you not to worry,' you said, smirking, and lifted a cup to your lips. 'Now I can bring you back.'

'Let's celebrate your freedom first,' the Darkling said, shaking your head. You shrugged but you two drink tea for a moment in silence, enjoying your company.

'How are you going to go about it?' Aleksander finally asked a moment later.

'I'm going to wait a bit, so not to arouse suspicions,' you answered. 'Then, I will make nichevo in Nikolai show itself. Then I will wait. In the meantime, I will be visiting the Fold once in two months. Making sure your body is safe and in good condition. And make them believe I'm grieving. That's the easiest part, since I am.'

You put your cup on the saucer. Kirigan looked at you softly and with guilt.

'Soon, my darling,' he promised. 'We're close. Soon we can be together. I can't wait to hold you in my arms.'

You sent him a small smile. You pondered your next moves.

'You're not alone in this,' the Darkling said, making you look at him curiously. 'I have followers. People who believe I should be made a Saint-'

'Oh, as if your ego isn't big enough already,' you sighed, wincing.

'I just need one of them to enter the Grand Palace,' Aleksander said, giving you a look. 'When they do, I want you to go outside. Once you see Zoya and those twins, follow them and stop nichevo from attacking them. They have to see you can control it. Only then Lantsov will decide to take you with them to the Fold.'

'Okay, but why that someone has to enter the palace?' you asked, confused.

'I need that someone who is helping me, believe they're the ones trying to bring me back.'

'Who are you talking about?'

'You'll see once the ritual starts. The one I told you about. Now, I need only a fragment of my power to separate itself from the King and nichevo. Once you see it does, you can do with that person whatever you want. I'm telling you that because I don't think you'll like them.'

'Now, that's reassuring.'

Kirigan stood up. He walked to you and kneeled in front of you. You took your hands and kissed them.

'Please, don't lose hope in me, milaya,' he pleaded. 'I promise you that this plan will make us rulers of this country.'

'You know it's not what I want,' you said after a moment quietly. Before the Darkling could answer, you woke up.

Next time you dreamt of him was three months later. You were back to perfect health and once again wearing your kefta from him. You also had already been to the place his body is hidden under the sands.

'The twins don't trust me,' you said, walking with Aleksander through the garden of the Little Palace. 'I can't blame them. Especially since they're right.'

'But others seem to trust you,' Kirigan pointed out. You were quiet for a moment.

'David really wants to believe things are like they used to be,' you finally said. 'Zoya wants the same. Genya is a bit hesitant but she's trying for her husband. Oh, I was really glad to hear they're married. I was rooting for them for so long. But anyway. Nikolai is seeing how hard I'm working on jurda parem. Thankfully, he has no idea I actually am much closer to finding the antidote. It is frustrating, to be honest. I have to work slower on it, because once I'm finished and I stay, everyone will look more closely at me, preventing me from bringing you back. Ugh!'

'Patience, milaya,' the Darkling said, linking your arms. 'We're close. You successfully walk past the twins to release the King from his bonds once in a while. And you control it perfectly, so he wouldn't actually hurt anyone. I was scared, at first. How well you controlled my nichevoy'a. But now I'm happy with that obedience.'

'So am I,' you murmured. 'I don't want anyone to get hurt. Which reminds me… once you're back… what will you do with Nikolai and others?'

'That depends what they will do,' Aleksander answered. You stopped walking. Kirigan stopped as well because of that and raised his eyebrows at you. Yours are furrowed.

'You can't fix this country without Nikolai,' you pointed out. 'Just like he can't without you. Fjerda and Shu-Han are getting bolder. You need each other to make Ravka strong again. And he won't work with you if you hurt others. I won't stand by you.'

The last words, quieter than the rest, stunned Kirigan. And startled as well. In that moment he realised that he could lose everything but not you.

'I promise not to hurt them in any way,' he said after a moment. 'I… Once you bring me back, I'll even allow them to tie me up, so they would feel safe.'

'Really?' you asked, surprised. The Darkling nodded and cupped your face.

'After I'm alive once again, you're all that matters, lapushka,' he said. 'You are my everything. I can't lose you.'

You smiled softly and he responded in kind. He pressed his lips to yours.

'I can't wait to actually kiss you,' he whispered.

'Soon,' you murmured. 'And then you may kiss me as many times as you want.'

'You may regret saying that,' Aleksander chuckled. You shook your head.

'Never,' you denied. 'I love when you kiss me. Although… I slowly start to forget how it feels.'

'I'm going to make sure you'll never forget once I'm back,' Kirigan said after a moment.

'I can't wait…' you whispered. You blinked and he was gone. You were back in your bed, no longer feeling his hands on your face. But you knew that in a few months that was going to change.

Zoya's voice pulls you out of your memories. You focus your eyes on the present. You are back in Os Alta, about to enter the palace. Before you've entered the city, the Squaller's bound Nikolai's hands and has attached ropes to the bridles of everyone's horses but hers, so you would all look like prisoners. As she has led you through the lower town, you saw no mourning banners, no flags flown at half-mast. Either the King was less popular than you all thought or somehow Genya and David have managed to keep his disappearance a secret.

'Welcome home, Commander,' a guard on duty says to Zoya and the gates swing open. Inside you find out that there is some big party happening. Lantsov and his general are clearly surprised and talk with each other with hushed voices. They come to a decision about something and look at you.

'Even if asleep, I don't want to leave the two of them alone,' Nazyalensky murmurs. You raise eyebrows. Asleep?

'[Y/N] will come with me,' Nikolai decides after a beat. 'It will also be an insurance. If he wakes up, he won't try anything stupid knowing she's with me. Am I right?'

Aleksander glares at him in answer. The amusement that was flickering in his eyes on the way here is gone now. Zoya checks the bonds on him and Yuri. Then they give them Genya's sleeping concoction and stash them behind a hedge. You want to protest, but your mouth is still gagged.

You split up. Nikolai ungags you, but makes you walk in front of him, so if someone comes across you, won't see your bound hands. You two make way along the southern flank of the palace, keeping to the shadows. You glimpse a movement in the conservatory. Lantsov wants to keep going, but you stop suddenly, making him walk into you and hiss.

'There's two of you?' you ask with wide eyes. The King follows your gaze and freezes. Amid the fruit trees and fountains of the conservatory is a man looking exactly like him. For a moment you stare at him in stunned silence. You watch as he's pacing, talking rapidly. Then you notice a very pretty girl from Shu-Han wearing an expensive assemble.

'Is he… declaring his love?' Lantsov asks, horrified.

'It looks like it,' you admit, nodding. 'Want me to step in and stop it?'

The King hesitates. He clearly doesn't want this to happen, whatever is happening. He can't interrupt it, because it would cause an uproar. But if you walk in… but how can he trust you?

At that moment the false Nikolai takes the girl in his arms. She tilts her head, her eyes sliding closed, her lips parted. That's when you see a dagger in her hands.

You don't think. You focus on the weapon. It suddenly springs from her hand and edges itself into the tree. Her eyes go wide and her faces pales. The false King turns, surprised by the noise. His eyes widen as well at the sight of the dagger.

'Damn it, locked!' Lantsov curses, trying to open the door. His double is slowly backing away from the girl, who's crying for some reason.

'Easy-peasy,' you say and the door is unlocked. The King doesn't wait for you, just rushes inside. The couple turns at the sounds of his footsteps. They're both shocked to see him. But the girl quickly recovers and takes a fighting stance.

She starts fighting with Nikolai and is surprisingly good. Somehow, she manages to get a hold of the dagger. She tries to stab Lantsov with it. Suddenly, she stiffens. Her eyes roll back and she slumps on the floor. A tree branch is levitating behind her but quickly drops as well.

'Are you alright?' you ask, helping Nikolai up. While he was fighting, you got rid of your bonds, walked inside, separated a branch from a tree and flew it at the girl's head.

'Yeah, thanks,' Lantsov says, nodding his head. You both look at his double that looks like he's about to faint.

'Your Majesty?' he asks, his voice shaking. Nikolai narrows his eyes.

'And you are…?' he asks.

'Isaak, sir,' poor guy answers. The King beams.

'Isaak! So, my plan worked!' he says and looks at you as if expecting praise. You blink.

'What plan?' you ask. 'He's not your secret twin then?'

'What? No, no, no,' Lantsov denies and quickly tells you of the plan in which Genya was supposed to tailor someone to look like Nikolai and act like him in case he was needed but unavailable.

'Ah, so that's why there were no riots,' you say, nodding in understanding.

'Exactly,' the King confirms and looks at Isaak. 'Except for you being almost murdered, is everything going well?'

'Um…' the guy starts. But he doesn't get to finish, as suddenly you hear rushed footsteps. A moment later Genya, David, Tamar and Tolya are inside, and everyone is shouting. Then, Zoya barges in, silencing everyone with a thunderclap. Your friends demand to know if you all are really you. Nazyalensky says a story from her past and everyone calms down. Genya hugs her, Tolya clasps Nikolai's arm and lifts him off his feet, David hugs you awkwardly and Tamar checks on the unconscious girl.

'Where the hell have you been?' Tolya asks.

'It's a long story,' Nikolai answers and demands to be put down.

'What happened here?' Zoya asks and looks at you. Her eyes narrow at your unbound hands.

'The dagger is Fjerdan,' says Tolya, eyeing the dagger that lies next to the girl.

'Maybe so,' Lantsov agrees. 'But it was wielded by a Shu girl.'

'What do you mean?' Tamar asks. 'She was attacked, too.'

'Yes, by me, because she tried to kill Nikolai,' you explain. 'And earlier she tried to kill the other Nikolai.'

'So, the Shu are trying to frame Fjerda?' asks Tolya.

'But why?' David asks. Nikolai stares at the girl for a moment, his face grim.

'Get me fresh clothes,' he finally says. 'I'll return to the party to close out the festivities. I want to have a word with Hiram Schenck. He's the highest-ranking member of the Kerch Merchant Council here, yes?'

'Yes,' Genya confirms. 'But he isn't happy with you.'

'He's about to be,' Lantsov says. 'For a time. Take the girl to Healers. She's about to have at least a large bump on the back of her head.'

'Not sorry,' you say, shrugging.

'She's a Shu princess,' Tamar says.

'Still not sorry,' you say after a beat.

'Bring the Shu delegation to me in my father's rooms in one hour's time,' the King finishes.

'What if Princess Ehri's guards raise the alarm?' asks Genya.

'They won't,' Zoya answers. 'Not until they know their plan has succeeded and the king is dead.'

'Then long live the king,' Nikolai says and looks at you with apology in his eyes. 'I'm sorry, [Y/N] you really helped out, but…'

'I understand,' you say, smiling sadly. You put your hands behind your back and offer them to Nikolai.

'What's going on?' David asks, confused.

'Later,' Lantsov sighs, sounding tired. He secures the bonds again. You're taken to the antechamber. There, Zoya gives you Genya's concoction. You're out in a moment.

When you wake up, startled, Yuri and Aleksander are with you. Zoya is the one who wakes you all up. She brings Yuri out first, then you. You see the same people as before, only now Nikolai is in different clothes and there was also another Shu girl. Judging by their looks, they still have no idea why you're bound. Then, Nazyalensky brings Aleksander.

'Who-?' David starts asking. But Zoya tugs at the rope and Kirigan steps fully into the light. His hood falls back. Genya gasps, edging away, her hand flying to the patch that covers her lost eye.

'No,' she says. 'It can't be. No.'

Nikolai places a steadying hand on her shoulder. Tamar steps in front of her as if to shield her.

'Impossible,' she says.

'Improbable,' Lantsov corrects her softly. Tolya looks furious. Tamar has her axes drawn back. Genya has her hands pressed to her mouth. David glances at you with hurt and betrayal in his eyes. It's really hard not to hang your head with shame.

'So many of my old friends, gathered in one place,' says Aleksander. 'It's good to be home.'

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could. Every comment makes my day!

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/135027145

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