#but if YOUR gripe is she's too mean to men...

[lgbtlunaverse]

My friend has given me a very passionate recommendation of epic: the musical and it sounds so interesting but since that recommendation i've encountered the online fandom for it and they've all been the most insufferable people alive 😔 I try not to let fandom influence my enjoyment of a work but that's usually AFTER i've already consumed and enjoyed it, not before. You fuckers are gonna make me get a bad grade in friendship media resonance.

[discodinosaur]

➳ homegrown

↳ the last of us | explicit | joel/reader | 7.2k | AO3 | complete

Summary: It takes three games of darts for you to win your bet against Joel. After much grumbling and cursing you out he agrees to play at the open-mic night. Perhaps this might be the right time to act on your feelings.

Tags: unprotected piv sex | pulling out | oral (f receiving) | no use of y/n | no outbreak | fluff | happy ending | reader is a year or so younger than tommy and tommy's best friend | friends to lovers | oblivious idiots

Note: I've had this idea for months and finally had some time to get it written. I've checked this over so many times but I'm bound to have missed something. - Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡ - link to the song Joel sings. I love this song and just thought it kinda fit.

You didn’t expect the bar to be this packed. 

But in hindsight – yeah, you should have. Not only is it open mic night at the bar but it’s also a Friday, meaning traffic had be awful. So yeah, you should’ve been more prepared. 

You had promised Joel ages ago that you would be here for this. ‘I always thought about singin’’, he’d told you one night. An idea, a bet and three darts games later you turn to him with a glint in your eye, asking for your win to be see him play at the open mic night. He’d griped about it, cursed you out multiple times under his breath while Tommy had laughed, and then, with some reluctance, agreed. But only if you were there to watch. 

Like you’d say not to that. You two of you had been dancing on the ‘will they, won’t they’ iceberg for months. You weren’t even sure if Joel felt that way about you. Even with the lingering touches, the flirtations between the two of you, you didn’t know if it was all just in your own head. 

So here you are. If only you could see or find your friends. Being a head shorter than most people in front of you isn’t helping, you can barely see the stage let alone the table where your friends are. The woman behind the bar you can barely hear over the group of raucous men next to you, repeating yourself four times before she hears you, giving the men a sidelong look as she gets you a lemonade.

Just as you grab your glass there’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn, ready to tell the next guy to at least wait a second. But the words die on your tongue and you let out a relieved sigh at Tommy’s familiar face. You squeeze through the gap, the loud group of men guffawing again and you wince as the sound goes right through you. 

“There y’are!” he exclaims, his hand grabbing yours to guide you through the crowd. You sidle past more groups of people, the crowd thinning the further away from the bar you get. Lemonade spills over the top of your glass, pooling in the gaps of your fingers as you get led over to a small corner booth. 

You greet Maria who gives you a half hug and you raise your glass over to Tess and Frank, the two deep in conversation. You slide into the seat that’s been saved for you between Joel and Tommy, your eyes falling on Bill, who even with his eyes closed looks like he’s ready to leave this place already. 

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you and you turn, your eyes raking over him. Well-worn jeans and a green shirt. Classic Joel. His hair sticking up in different directions from where he’s ran his hand through it one too many times and his eyes burn into yours as you meet his gaze. 

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his lips and then back to his face. His hand wrapped around his beer, bringing it to his lips, seemingly having missed your fleeting look. 

You okay? He mouths around the bottle and you nod quickly, the knuckle of your thumb coming to your mouth to lick off the remaining lemonade. You turn your head to Tommy, missing the way Joel’s throat bobs as he watches your lips.

“I can’t believe you got him to do this,” Tommy says to you, knocking his knee with yours, a glance in his brother’s direction. 

You smile, watching for a moment as he takes a sip of his scotch, ice-clinking gently together. 

“Beginner’s luck. I’m terrible at darts but somehow beat him three times,” you shrug, hiding your grin with your hand. 

Tommy laughs, his head tilting back as his shoulders shake. It’s infectious and you find yourself smiling, leaning into him for a moment, a quiet laugh escaping you. As you look up, you catch Joel’s expression – a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. This time you ignore it as Tommy erupts into another round of laughter at an offhand comment from Maria you don’t quite hear. 

Instead, you watch Joel even after he’s turned away, arm slung over the back of his chair, body twisting in his seat as one of the employees approaches him, gesturing to the stage. Joel points down to the floor and your eyes follow, your heart fluttering when you see his guitar case.

You chance another look at him, the overhead lighting catching on the silver in his hair, shadowing his face. He’s not looking towards you, engrossed in something with Tess and Bill so you take the opportunity to just look. 

You start to think. Think about how close you two have been to a ‘moment’ only for it to be shattered seconds later. How Joel knows you inside out, back to front, better than you know yourself, like a missing limb. 

You’ve never confessed out loud to anyone, not even Tommy. God, even just thinking about his teasing is enough to put you off. He would never let you live it down. It’s enough that he has this weird look on his face whenever you and Joel get a little too close like he knows he’s interrupted something. 

You take a sip of your lemonade, blinking away from Joel only to catch Frank’s eye. You might not have told Tommy but Frank doesn’t miss a thing. He definitely knows, even if he’s never explicitly told you, you just know that he knows. He looks between you and Joel and raises an eyebrow at you as if asking ‘will you finally tell him?’

You shake your head the tiniest amount and glance at Joel again, finding him already watching you. His eyes flash with something. Nerves, probably, you think. It’s almost showtime. 

The lights dim, dousing the room in an intimate shadowy light again and Frank stands moving around the table, a warm hand on your shoulder, a murmur of ‘what drink?’ but you lift your still-full glass and he nods, squeezing your shoulder before leaning down in your peripheral to ask Maria the same question. 

Joel also gets to feet with a loud, exaggerated sigh in your direction and you don’t even hide the smile that creeps onto your face. He picks up his guitar case and spares you one last glance. “Guess that’s m’cue,” he mutters. 

Tommy raises his glass, toasting his retreating back you huff with a laugh, raising yours as the rest of the table follows suit. You clink your glass with Tommy’s and take a long drink, doing anything but looking at Joel preparing himself. 

The same guy from earlier steps onto the little makeshift stage, tapping the microphone already to get everyone’s attention and introduces Joel. You don’t hide the soft smile on your face as Joel dithers in the background, guitar strap over his shoulder as he leans in to hear whatever he’s strumming. 

The guy gestures to the seat for Joel, adjusting the microphone for him. Joel looks over at your table, meeting your eyes for the briefest of seconds and then he’s clasping the fretboard, closing his eyes. 

“Would you calm ya leg? Tommy whispers in your ear, hand on knee where you’ve been subconsciously jiggling your leg in anticipation. 

“No,” you reply, batting his hand away and clutching your glass tight in your hands, the condensation cooling your clammy palms. 

Joel gives a quick hello, tells everyone else why he’s up there, nods over to your table and then his fingers find their chord and he starts with a slow gentle melody. 

“I got a piece of land out in the countryside

Lay back and smell the sun, warm up the Georgia pine

Been so good to me, takin' it easy…”

From the first lyrics, you shake your head in disbelief. Fucker. Of course he plays this one. Whenever Joel plays for you, you always request it but this time it’s slower, like every word is being carved just for you. This time, his voice goes right through you, a juxtaposition of mellow and rough around the edges. 

His eyes find you as he sings the chorus and your breathing hitches. You find that you can’t look away from him – illuminated by the orangey light they have on the stage like a halo. 

“I got some good friends that live down the street

Got a good lookin’ woman with her arms ‘round me

Live in a small town where it feels like home

I got everything I need, and nothin’ that I don’t….” 

Fuck. 

His voice has always made you weak, but now, amplified by the mic and the intensity of his stare, you are just about putty. Strands of his wavy hair fall into his face when he finally looks away from you down at the guitar and you shift in your seat. 

You really need to do something about this crush of yours. 

He sings the last part of the chorus for the final time and your eyes drop to his hands – those fucking hands on his guitar, fingering the fretboard and you look up. You can’t look away until the lights go down around him. 

Everyone around you erupts into applause and you blink away, coming back to your surroundings, joining in and clearing your throat, lost in the noise of appreciation for Joel. 

“Felt like I was intrudin’ on somethin’ towards the end there,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and nudges your knee with his again. You tense your shoulders, heart lurching in your chest, a twist in your stomach. 

“Not that I know what you’re talking about but it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” 

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head, “C’mon, the way you were lookin’ at each other,” he mutters, catching your questioning expression and smirks, “Christ, you didn’t even know I caught you lookin’.”

A reply is on your tongue but luckily for Tommy, Maria pulls him along with her towards the bar and you watch them leave, stewing on your thoughts because he was right. You had been completely unaware of anything going on around you while Joel had sung.

You glance around your table. Bill’s eyes are closed, leaning back against the seat, head lolling onto Frank’s shoulder while his other half is in a heated debate with Tess. You could get involved but you take the moment to try and gather your racing thoughts.  

Until – 

“Jesus, I ain’t ever doin’ that again,” Joel sighs as he slides into the chair beside you, guitar propped against the table next to him. Even with your stomach in knots and a hummingbird in your chest, Joel’s presence is something you need to calm you. 

“Best you don’t lose a bet to me again,” you tease, plastering a smile on your face and he groans, pulling his chair in. You reach out to his arm, your smile becoming genuine, “You were good, Joel. Really good.” 

“Yeah, well. You’re welcome,” he murmurs, leaning in close to you. His hand reaches out for your glass, fingers smearing the condensation. You meet his eyes as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a long sip of your lemonade, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You shiver, a wave of desire coursing through you. And for the second time tonight, you’re transfixed by his eyes. But this is just another dance you two do around each other. He then tilts his head back, downing the rest of your drink, his throat bobbing obscenely and you stand, suddenly too hot. 

“I need another drink,” you say quickly, swallowing hard and brushing past Joel as quickly as you can. The crowd has thinned out a little by now but the bar is still crowded with the regulars and you squeeze into a gap, nodding to a couple of the older guys you recognise. 

The barman holds his fingers up, silently asking you to give him a minute and you nod, grateful for the reprieve. You let out a much-needed sigh, closing your eyes for a moment and composing yourself – Or at least trying to. The barman comes up and you lean on the sticky counter, asking for another lemonade with extra ice. You fumble your phone out of your pocket, getting ready to pay when you freeze in place at the sound of a very familiar voice. 

“Have you actually told her yet?” Frank’s soft voice says to your left, the other side of the older guys and you swallow hard. “Or are you still beating around the bush about it?” 

“It’s hard, Frank,” you hear the sigh in Joel’s voice. “Her and Tommy are fuckin’ inseparable, you know how they are.” 

You strain to try and hear the rest of it – your heart fluttering in your chest, a knot forming in your stomach. 

“Thick as thieves, yeah. But you could argue you and her are close, just in a different way. You know her, Joel. But you’ve gotta tell her soon. You know what Tommy’s like, loves to play matchmaker.” 

You’ve heard enough and quickly pay, thanking the barman before scurrying back to your table. You squeeze between Bill and Tess, the former grunting at you before closing his eyes again.

It takes you a moment in your seat before you’re internally freaking out because Joel seemingly has a thing for you too – what the fuck? 

You pull into Joel’s driveway, Tommy’s glaring headlights flashing at you twice before he turns off down the road. You shut the radio off and cut the engine, turning in your seat to look at Joel. 

“Want to come in for some cards? Maybe a coffee? Night’s still young after all.” 

It manages to pull a laugh from you and you duck your head with a fond smile. It’s an easy question, even if the overheard conversation between him and Frank has been on your mind since you heard them. 

“Sure.” 

Even in the shadowy light of your car, you can still make out that grin of his and he nods once, getting out of the car without another word. You mirror him and smile to yourself before giving yourself a little shake and following him inside. 

Joel’s home always feels warm. 

Helped by the yellow glow of the lamps and the olive green walls reflecting on the warm wood flooring. You kick off your shoes, following Joel through to the kitchen where he’s already got the coffee going. You lean against the counter, watching the muscles in his shoulders ripple under his shirt as he leans up for some mugs. 

“What?” he asks, catching your look with a grin. 

You shake your head, “Nothing, just thinking about my next winning bet.” 

Joel’s chuckle goes right through you, his expression soft as he looks over at you, “Nuh-uh, darlin’. You ain’t doin’ that to me again.” 

He continues to look at you for a moment and squints at you, “And why you standing so far away from me, c’mere.” 

You feel the blush rise on your cheeks and you scoot closer to him. Close enough that you can smell his aftershave. Close enough that you could easily lean your head on his shoulder like he could put an arm around your waist, kiss the side of your head –

“Better?” You ask dryly, pulling yourself out of your own wishful thoughts. 

“Much.” 

The hummingbird rears its head in full force once again. 

“And that’s that,” Joel murmurs, slapping his hand of cards on the table. You kiss your teeth and sigh, showing him your cards left – two threes, a four and a seven. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Which leaves me to believe that you owe me a bet.” 

You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, suddenly feeling a wave of trepidation and nerves come over you. “Oh really? And what do you want to win?” 

Joel runs his tongue over his top lip, leaning in on his elbows with the ghost of a smirk. “Y’know, I think I want a kiss.” 

You baulk, gripping your coffee mug tight between your clammy palms. Surely you had misheard, right? Joel didn’t say kiss. You clear your throat, opening and closing your mouth before you answer. “You… what? You want a kiss from me?” 

“No, a kiss from fuckin’ Santa.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead mirror his movements, leaning on the table, keeping your voice steady. As much as you’re in shock, you can’t not tease him a little bit. 

“And what if I don’t want to?” 

It’s Joel’s turn to clear his throat, meeting your eyes, “Then we pretend this didn’t happen and I ask you instead to buy dinner next time we’re out.” 

You laugh, a breathy sound coming out of your mouth and blink slowly, “Right, right. Which means I’ll also have to pay for Tommy too.” 

Joel groans, leaning back in his hair, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, you’re so invested in fuckin’ Tommy that you can’t see that there’s plenty of other people that wanna spend time with ya.” 

You frown, also leaning back in your chair. “Hey, I spend plenty with you,” you say with a small shrug of your shoulders. 

Joel sighs again and rolls his eyes, “You know that ain’t what I meant.” 

You grin, folding your arms across your chest as you lean back further on the chair, pushing it up onto two legs. “Yeah? I think I know what you meant. I heard Frank at the bat.” 

Joel narrows his eyes and you applaud yourself for the bravery, unsure of where it’s coming from so quickly. You can see the wheels turn in his mind.

“Frank? What the fuck has Frank got–” his eyes widen as it clicks. “Oh. You heard that, huh?” 

You wet your lips and nod slowly, putting on your best Frank voice, “Have you actually told her yet?” Tommy loves to play matchmaker.” 

Joel just stares at you, one eyebrow slightly raised and you carry on back in your normal voice, fit to burst: 

“Well, Tommy has tried to set me up on dates and guess what? Every time I told him no. Call it stupid but all I wanted to do is go on a proper date. With you.” 

You admit the last part quietly and the confession hangs heavy and thick in the air. 

Joel is quiet for a moment, his expression the same as it was. But then he exhales slowly. Panic fills you, wondering if you’ve overstepped, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter – 

“Say it again,” he says quietly, he breathes, fingers on the back of your hand. “That last part.” 

Your chair falls forward onto all four legs, the sound too loud in the silent kitchen and you take a breath, “All I’ve wanted is to go on a proper date with you.” 

Joel’s on you in a flash, lips meeting yours, one hand cradling your cheek. But one kiss isn’t enough for either of you, as soon as he parts from you to breathe, he steals another and another and another from you. 

“Joel,” you murmur and he grunts, moving your lips to trail a hot line of fire down over your jaw and down your neck.

“Yeah, baby? Do you want this?” 

You nod against his shoulder, breathily heavily against his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his belt loops. “You know I do.” 

“Need t’hear you say it proper,” he croaks, pulling back to look at your face, drawing a quiet whine from you. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Let’s go upstairs, baby. I ain’t having my first time with you on the fucking dining table.” 

Joel stands, his knees clicking as he does and you fight back the jab on your tongue but of course, he notices it anyway and kisses you to silence it. 

“Up,” he breathes against your lips and you stand, following him up to his room. 

His room is the same as it always is, cluttered and just that little bit messy. He keeps the door open and follows you back towards the bed, your hand reaching out for him and then he’s kneeling over you, lips finding yours again. 

“Fuckin’ months I’ve been wanting this,” he rasps, “Daren’t do a fuckin’ thing about it.” 

“Why? You should’ve.” 

He huffs a laugh and noses at your cheek, “Yeah. I know that now. But because of my fuckin’ brother. Wasn’t sure how you felt but knew that he would find the whole thing hilarious. Couldn’t humiliate myself in front o’him again.”

You rear back, carding your fingers in his messy hair, twisting it between your fingers. “Funny thing is, I couldn’t talk to Tommy about anything either. I think he knew I was crushin’ on you but I could never outright tell him. Frank knew though. But it looks like we were just oblivious to each other.” 

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” 

You smile softly at him, your hands moving from his hair down his back, feeling the muscle there, to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. He reads you like a book and pulls it off, leaning over you to click the bedside lamp and you rake your eyes over him. 

Even in the lamplight, he’s so fucking hot. 

He cradles your cheek in his large hand and leans closer, pressing his soft lips to yours. You respond instantly and his hand moves lower, thick fingers flexing on your neck and you gasp, lifting your hips at the touch. He’s not even choking you properly and you’re reactive to every single touch. 

“Fuck,” he swears gruffly, “You like that, don’t you?”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. You lift your hips towards him against his already hard cock trapped in his jeans, desperate for some kind of friction against you. You want to feel him in your hands, want to watch how he reacts to your touch. 

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you.” 

You swallow thickly and you sit up properly, pulling your shirt off your head and throwing it to the side. You can feel Joel’s eyes raking over you and you don’t hide yourself away. Your hands cover his as he places his palms on your stomach dragging them up over to cup your breasts through your bra, eliciting a shiver from you. 

He leans in, his beard scratching over your delicate skin as he peppers more kisses over your shoulder while his hands reach around you, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. It takes him a moment – his lips pausing on your collarbone in concentration. 

“Hate these things, how can you even take ‘em off smoothly,” he mutters as you feel it come undone. You hear it hit the floor and then feel his fingers tracing idle patterns over the swell of your breast. 

“Try wearing it every day, you’ll get there then,” you reply in a hushed tone, nudging his cheek with your nose, finding his lips and sliding your tongue along his lips. 

He moans into the kiss, hands palming properly over your breasts, thumbs circling your erect nipples, stealing another breathy whine from you, your back arching into his hands and you’re gone, completely putty in his hands. 

“Fuck,” you grunt as he tugs on a nipple. Joel smirks, wetting his lips and taking the hard bud into his mouth. You squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes, fingers tangling in the back of his hair, twisting the strands at the nape of his neck.“Joel.” 

He nips his teeth on your nipple and you gasp, eyes closing as his tongue swirls a hot, wet circle and pulls away, moving to your other nipple while the cool air on your sensitive bud sends a ripple of desire through you. 

But Joel doesn’t stop. 

Once he’s finished giving the other nipple some attention, he presses you down onto the mattress and continues to kiss open-mouthed over your ribcage, over your stomach down to between your thighs. 

His hands grasp the backs of your legs, dragging you down the bed so he can kneel on the floor. One hand moves to undo the button of your jeans, the drag of the zip and you lift your hips as he pulls them off you one leg at a time. 

“Will you let me taste you, baby? It’s all I can think about,” he says, hands coming to hold your ankles and you find yourself digging your fingers into the mattress, needing something to ground you. 

“Please. I’m yours, Joel.” 

“Fuckin’ right you are,” he growls, a burning hot kiss just above the waistband of your panties. He takes his time, kissing up each of your legs and your heart leaps in your chest. God, this man will ruin you. 

He keeps your legs apart as he drags his lips up your inner thighs, nosing against your damp panties and your fingers tighten on the sheet, a gasp leaving you at the tiniest amount of friction. 

“Christ, you’re soaked. This is what you’ve been keeping from me?” 

“Joel,” you splutter, craving the sweet friction against your clit. 

“How long you been this wet for?” he asks, slowly peeling your panties from you, tossing them to join your other clothes. “Since the bar?” 

“Since… since –fuck – since you were singing.” 

Joel smiles against you, the tips of his fingers trailing feather light over your seam, gathering the wetness there. 

“Like the song, did ya?” 

Another whine leaves you as the heat from his hand is back on your thigh and finally, finally, he gives you something. His nose parts your folds, tongue flattening as he gets his first taste of you and a low moan rumbles through him. 

Your head falls back against the pillow, one hand finding his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. Struggling to keep your eyes open as the pleasure melts through you because holy fuck this man is good at eating you out. 

Joel isn’t exactly quiet – he doesn’t hide the sound of his grunts or the sloppy licks and sucks as he eats you out. You tilt your head down, watching him as he presses himself closer, opening your thighs wider, burying his face there. 

He picks up on what makes you moan or whimper. He likes to alternate, going back to the broad long licks over your clit that have you writhing beneath him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, an obscene wet sound as he laps over your clit, “Can’t believe I’ve let it go on this long without tasting ya.” 

You chance down another look at him, the glow from the lamp catching on his grey strands that are scrunched in your fist and you give an experimental tug, making him moan louder – the vibrations going through you. 

There’s a warm pooling in your stomach as your orgasm fast approaches. Between the obscene sound of Joel devouring you and the way his tongue flicks over you just right you know it won’t be long. You slowly start to rock your hips in time with his tongue, grinding against him. 

Your back arches as you try and hold onto that feeling, not wanting this to be over but you know you won’t win, not this time. 

“Joel,” you gasp, tightening your hold in his hair as you feel the white-hot pleasure flooding through you. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you, atta girl,” he grunts against you, holding your thighs tightly as you wriggle in his grasp. 

“Fuck–Joel.” 

You writhe under him, your thighs clenching around his head as you come. Your head hits the pillow with soft cries, your hand tugging at the threads of his hair as you ride out the high of your climax. Joel works you through it, groaning into your cunt as he laps at the mess you make. 

He rests his head on your thigh and once you’ve caught your breath you lean up on your elbow to get a look at him, shiny lips and chin, dark eyes blown wide with lust and you flop down onto the bed again. 

Then you feel his fingers caressing over you, thumb on your clit massaging small circles and you moan breathlessly as he opens you up. One thick finger sliding in your wetness and stretching you open. 

“Joel,” you breathe, letting out a sigh. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Too much?” he murmurs against your skin, resting his head on your thigh. 

“No, no, not enough–” 

Your eyes roll back as his finger curls and you jolt, gasping for breath. “Fuck!” 

You’ve just come and this man is unrelenting, taking his time to tear you apart piece by piece. 

“Loved seeing you come for me,” he murmurs, pressing small kisses to wherever his lips reach. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” 

He adds a second, stretching you open and you whimper as he deliciously rubs against your soft walls. You rut against his hand, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper – 

“Right there.” 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Is that it?” 

You nod desperately and he encourages you to keep rutting against him, working up your second orgasm. You feel it, wanting more and more of him. Whatever he’ll give you, you’ll eagerly take. 

“Fuckin’ love lookin’ at ya,” he mutters, his eyes droopy and half-lidded. Your lips are slick with saliva and parted, chest heaving and another warm heat coiling in the pit of your stomach again. 

“You gonna come again for me?” 

His thumb flicks over your clit, smearing the slick of your arousal and paying attention to the bundle of nerves. You nod, another whimper catching in your throat as you feel it crescendo over you. 

“Oh fuck!” 

Your second orgasm of the night rips through you. This time, Joel kisses you through it and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s overwhelming and as his hand slows, pulling out of you carefully. 

“Christ,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to look you over. “Think you have one more in you for me?” 

You nod, raking a hand through your hair. “I just need a second,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Joel hovers over you, hands running up and down your sides as you catch your breath and then you slowly lean up on an elbow, your other hand cupping his cheek. 

“C’mere, Texas. You have too many clothes on.” 

You kneel next to him. Now it’s your turn to take your time with him, take him apart piece by piece. Joel’s throat bobs and he lays down beside you and you sit over his thigh. You push your hair that’s falling into your face behind your ear and press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck, testing the waters. 

He sighs, turning his head to the side and you take the invitation to suckle a sweet pink mark onto the hollow of his throat. Your tongue darts out to soothe the mark as you work down. You reach his collarbones, your fingertips dancing over the smattering of dark hair on his chest. 

Joel’s breathing is shaky and you trace over his body until you get to the waistband of his boxers and look up at him. 

He’s already watching you, eyes fixed on yours and he nods once. You shift between his thighs to pull them off and he kicks them off impatiently. For a moment you just gaze at him, taking in the size of his hard, leaking cock already beading with pre-cum.

The sound Joel makes when you wrap your hand around him will stick with you on your lonely nights at home. His eyelids flutter, slick lips parting in a wanton sound between a moan and a sigh as you slowly stroke him. 

You take your time, feeling the heavy weight of him in your hand as he gather the pre-come, using your thumb to coat the tip. You want him in your mouth, your mouth already watering just at the thought. 

Joel’s sounds are enticing, pulling you in. You shift again, tilting your head to take just the tip into your mouth, unable to resist. 

You can’t help but moan around him, your lips stretching around the swollen head of his cock. You hand stroking over the rest of his length – 

“Baby,” he murmurs, tugging at your hair.. “Don’t. I’ll come before we even start.” 

Your eyes flick over his face bathed in the lamplight and he looks wrecked. Kiss-bitten lips parted, his chest heaving and strands of curling hair falling into his face. You pull off him, moving to lay beside him, waiting for his next move. 

He reaches over you, going towards the nightstand and you can’t help yourself. You cup his cheek, titling his head towards you, kissing him again. 

When you part from your kiss, he has one knee on either side of your thighs to find a condom in the drawer. He flips the box over and his head falls back with a sigh. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mutters, closing the drawer with some force, “fucking expired. The fuck does that tell you?” 

You laugh quietly, shaking your head at his apparent distress and reach for his wrist, gently tugging him towards you. “Joel. Come here.” 

“I can run to the gas station,” he tries, evidently not listening to you and you tug his wrist again, kissing along the thin skin over his veins and over your pulse point. 

“Joel,” you say again, sharper than before and he finally looks over at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful but you lean close, kissing his cheek. “Joel,” you whisper in his ear, “I’m on birth control.” 

“I haven’t been with anyone since I last tested. Obviously,” he says, gesturing wildly towards the drawer and you laugh again, louder and kiss him, pulling him close. 

“I haven’t been with anyone either. Kinda had my eyes on you for a while.” 

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell me more about that, sweetheart?” he asks quietly in your ear, making you shiver. “Because I could tell you some things if we’re sharin’. 

“Hmm. I used to think about you,” you tell him as you take hold of his wrist again, guiding him to your leaking slit, moaning quietly as he doesn’t hesitate to find your clit again. “Used to fuck myself, used to wish it was you. I had it bad.” 

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that.”`

“Sure I can if it gets you over here,” you say, a content smile on your face as he starts to kiss up your neck. You just know you’re going to have a mark tomorrow – people will see that Joel Miller has marked you. 

He smiles down at you, lifting your leg as he settles between your thigh, one hand wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with you. He leans in to murmur in your ear. 

“If it hurts, you tell me and we slow down, yeah?” 

You swallow hard and nod, “I’m sure it won’t come to that.” 

Joel hooks two fingers under your chin, looking at you as he pushes into you, just the tip and your eyes widen, mouth parting and one hand clutching his shoulder. 

The times you had thought about this, imagined it in your head all those times you needed to make yourself come, it doesn’t hold a candle to how he really feels in the flesh. And as he slowly bottoms out inside you, there’s only one word to describe how you feel is full. You feel so full and –

“Stop that,” he croaks desperately, forehead falling onto yours. “Jesus.” 

“What?” 

“You—you keep clenchin’, gonna fucking make me come before I even get started.” 

Oh.

He presses you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as his hips roll at a tortuously slow pace. Joel’s thick and each thrust is dizzying, soft grunts leaving you as he kisses over the marks on your neck. 

“Fuck, baby, you feel better than I imagined,” he says against your neck, tilting his head to capture your lips again. 

Together your movements become rougher, the way you wrap your legs around his waist, crossed at the ankles as he thrusts deeper into you. The sounds of the headboard thumping against the wall, the mattress creaking and both your heavy breaths and soft sounds fill the room. 

You want more of him, want to feel him come apart so you slowly start to meet his thrusts, raising your hips and he notices, of course he notices. 

“Up,” he grunts and you obediently lift your hips again. Joel balances on one hand, grabbing a pillow with the other and moving it under your hips. “How’s that?” 

He times a perfectly deep thrust with his question and the answer is ripped from you. You moan, low and raspy at the added sensation and your thighs tighten around his waist. 

“Please,” you whine quietly, teeth finding his shoulder as he fucks you hard and slow into the mattress.

He noses at your neck, your walls fluttering around him on every thrust. After two orgasms already, you won’t last much longer – as much as you don’t want this to end. 

“You're close, ain’t ya?” 

With your nod, he slides a hand down between your bodies and finds your clit with his thumb, massaging fast and hard circles over it, bringing you closer and closer. Satisfied with your reaction, he fucks you faster, his hips slamming against yours, puffs of breath against your neck. 

“Joel, Joel,” you gasp. It’s all too much as you writhe below him and he presses gentle kisses to your neck. “I’m gonna come.” 

“I gotcha, come on, baby. Let go.” 

Your orgasm wracks through you. It tears through you with some force, his name uttered in breathless gasps, your whole body spent. Your tingly with overstimulation, muscles in your legs twitching. Joel’s thrusts are erratic now, his cock pounding into you and then he swiftly pulls out with a grunt, fisting his cock twice, the hot spill of his come splattering your stomach, a moan right into your ear. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, panting hard in your ear and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, his damp forehead against yours. “You’re a marvel, you know that?” 

Even though this man has given you three of your best orgasms, you feel your cheeks heat up at his words and hide your face in his shoulder. He laughs, pressing small, innocent kisses to your temple. 

“What? I’m just telling ya the truth.” 

His weight moves off you, falling beside you onto the pillow and he grunts, finding his breath again. You turn your head onto the pillow, your eyes are heavy as you hear Joel move around in his room, the sound of a tap running and then the mattress dips beside you again. . 

“Stay?” Joel asks you quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe your thighs and stomach with a warm cloth and you trail your fingers over his arm, nodding gently. 

“Like I’d rather be anywhere else,” you murmur, a small smile pulling at your lips. Your three orgasms start to catch with you and you let him clean you up. 

He gives you an almost shy smile and you look at him in the lamplight. He moves, tossing the cloth into the laundry basket and digs around in his drawer, pressing a soft shirt into your hands and blinking at him tiredly, a frown forming on your face in confusion. 

“To sleep in,” he says, kissing the crease in your forehead. 

You nod, pulling it on and it pools around your waist from where you’re sat. It smells like Joel, the cotton soft and well-worn. He slides into bed next to you, clicks off the light and you shuffle back against his chest - something that he easily adapts to by rubbing his hand over your thigh in a gentle caress. 

When you wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Joel’s face tucked into your neck, his beard bristling against you, almost tickling you and his snores are oddly comforting. You managed to move your arm without waking him, curling around his neck to play with the strands of hair as the sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains. 

You know the moment Joel wakes up: his hands gently squeeze you, his breathing heavier, and he mumbles against your shoulder, slowly joining the waking world. 

“Did I wake you?” you ask him softly. Your fingers curl in his hair at the nape of his neck. 

“No,” he mumbles, “C’mere.” 

He gently tugs you closer, a warm hand sliding up your side as you settle against him, a small sigh leaving your lips. 

His lips find your shoulder, a small kiss planted and another as he trails them up your collarbones, over your throat and finally settles against your lips. 

“What a way to wake up. You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, voice sleep thick and rough. His lips find yours again and again. “Let me make you breakfast.” 

“I’d rather you stay right here,” you mumble, basking in his embrace. “At least for another five minutes.” 

“You drive a hard bargain, honey,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear and your eyes close, a soft smile on your lips. 

Warmth blooms in your chest at the term of endearment and you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. Joel tilts his head down and captures yours in a tender, soft kiss. When you part, he’s got a look in his eye that has you tilting your head and you brush your fingertips through his messy, bed-ridden hair. 

“I like this,” you comment, smiling as his hair flops back onto his forehead.

“My hair or this?” he asks sleepily, closing his eyes and you can’t help but kiss him again. 

“Both.” 

Joel’s laugh vibrates against you from where his head is tucked into your shoulder – a low, rough rumble that’s thick with the dregs of sleep. His thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles on your waist and his breathing soon evens out as he falls back asleep. 

When you do eventually make it downstairs, Joel goes straight for his coffee machine, leaning up to grab two mugs from the cupboard and you don’t stop yourself from staring at the rippling muscles in his back. You lean against the counter, arms folded across your chest as you just take him in. 

He’s gone shirtless, his hair mussed from sleep and from your hands. He doesn’t catch you staring just yet, muttering to himself as the machine beeps at him for water. You could picture this happening more often, and while that thought should terrify you, it’s Joel. 

It’s always been Joel. 

You wouldn’t dance around anyone like this. 

“Here,” he says, eyes glittering with a soft smile and you match his smile, brought out of your thoughts by the smell of fresh coffee. 

Joel’s fingers linger on your as he passes you the mug of coffee and you can’t help but notice it’s in his owl mug, the one you’ve seen him use so many times before. You don’t know why but it warms your heart that he’s sharing this with you. You smile at him, the morning breeze floating in through the open window. 

Yeah, you could get used to this. 

[selencgraphy]

Hi!!! If you’re comfortable with it, could you write something about Logan meeting reader’s parents for the first time and he sees that her father is verbally abusive and he maybe stands up for her and stuff. Thanks so much!!

— 𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄

PAIRING: logan howlett x f!reader

TAGS: she/her pronouns for reader, verbal abuse, body shaming, protective!logan, logan is whipped (but when is he not?), established relationship, meeting the parents for the first time, hurt/comfort, reader is like in her early 30s, mutant!reader (telepath but she uses her powers like once...), thanksgiving, logan calling reader princess

A/N: i love protective!logan and have been meaning to write smth around these lines so thanks for the ask! sorry that it took a minute, i couldn't figure out how i wanted to go about writing it :( i hope you like it <3

WORD COUNT: ~1.3k

masterlist || request box <3

“You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to, Lo,” you voiced as you watched him pack. It was tradition in your family that everyone gathered back at your parent’s house for Thanksgiving, but it had been only a few months since the two of you started dating. Things were going really well between the two of you and as much as you wanted to spend the holidays with him, the idea of Logan meeting your parents was overwhelming. You never failed to go home before despite your gripes with your father, but just because you had to go didn’t mean he did.

He stopped folding the shirt he had in his hands at your remark, setting it down and walking up to you, his gaze soft but laced with a hint of worry. As soon as he was within arms reach, you went to place your hands around his neck and his hands immediately found your waist. His eyes bore into yours as if he was looking for something in them. “D’you not want me to come, bub?”

Your heart dropped at the question. “Of course, I want you to come, baby. It’s just… my family. They can be a bit much. I’ve never brought someone home to meet them before, and we haven’t exactly had the best relationship since I left to be here,” you ramble, eventually stopping when you notice the look on his face. He was smiling. “Why’re you smiling?”

“My girlfriend is really cute, is why,” he whispered, pecking your lips without warning.

“M’being serious, Lo…”

“I know, I know, bub. I’m sorry,” he breathed, gently squeezing the part of your waist where his hands were. “I wanna go with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. You sighed, letting your head fall to rest on his chest.

“I just… I just don’t want them to scare you away,” you whisper. At your words, he removed one of his hands from your waist to gently lift you by your chin to look at you once more.

“M’not going anywhere, bub,” he assured, his voice never wavering as he stared into your eyes, trying to drill the words into your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Lo.”

—

You watched with bated breath as Logan greeted your parents, especially your dad. The handshake they exchanged felt like it lasted hours as your dad tried to size him up. “Nice to meet you, Logan,” he gruffly greeted. “Was worried Y/N made you up.”

You chuckle in an attempt to hide the fact that your father’s idea of a joke hurts, but you notice the subtle way Logan’s jaw clenches. The respectful demeanor he displayed was cracking. “Let’s eat, shall we?” your mother suggested, forcing the two men out of their macho exchange. With your father following after your mother, you took Logan’s hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, flashing a feeble smile.

Sitting down, your father sat at the head with your mother to his left and your sister next to her. Logan sat to the left of your father with you right next to him. Once everyone was settled with enough food on their plate, your father spoke again, completely dismissing Logan and looking at you. “Have you found work yet, Y/N?”

At the question, you wiped your hands and mouth, clearing your throat before you spoke. “I have,” you hesitated, unsure of where your father was taking this conversation. “Professor Xavier offered me a teaching position actually.” You were met with a dismissive hum, your face falling at the reaction. A moment passed before he spoke again—this time, speaking to Logan.

“So how did you meet my daughter, Logan?”

“I work at the school too,” he replied, his voice confident and steady. Your father merely scoffed and continued to eat while your mother asked more questions to fill the awkward silence. Even with your mother trying to lighten the mood as Logan told her about how you got together, the weight of your father’s silent gaze sent your heart racing, sweat slowly seeping out of your pores. In an attempt to ease your anxiety, you reached for more food.

“Make sure you save some for the rest of us, Y/N,” your father jeered. You froze, setting down the serving spoon in embarrassment and quickly placing your hands on your knees, tugging at the fabric at the sudden wave of self-consciousness.

“Lo, can we go?” you asked telepathically. He quickly nodded, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I think we’ll get going,” you mumble, your voice low in an attempt to maintain your composure. “Thank you for the food, ma.”

“Oh, c’mon Y/N. It was just a joke. I can’t joke around with my little girl anymore?” His words cut through you, but it seemed to hit Logan just as hard with the way his hand clenched, his claws threatening to break the skin. Just as you were about to speak, Logan beat you to it.

“S’not a joke. You’re just being fucking rude,” he started. Before continuing he turned to your sister. “Sorry for my language, kid.” He then looked back at your father. “I was actually a lil’ excited to meet the people who brought her into this godforsaken world, but now I’m just disappointed. She’s your daughter for fuck’s sake. Y/N is the kindest person I know. She’s been through hell, but she’s never let any of that get to her. You should be proud of her—of the woman she’s become and I won’t have you shit talk her, let alone do it in front of me. You don’t deserve my time and you sure as hell don’t deserve her.” Logan was breathing heavily now, his eyes blown with anger as he stared down your father.

He was standing up to your father in a way you and your sister never could, too afraid that harsh words might turn into something more, and it made you love him even more. But the emotions evoked by your father outweighed them, tears filling your eyes. “Let’s go, bub,” Logan gruffly said, the hand he held in his gently guiding you out of your parent’s house and into his car. He pulled out the driveway and headed off.

It was obvious he was trying to calm himself down before he tried to comfort you, still keeping a gentle hand on your thigh to tell you he was still here for you. Once his breath slowed, he pulled over and put the car into park, turning to you. Your eyes were red rimmed, eyes looking every which way and fingers tugging at your sleeves. “Princess?”

You hummed in response but didn’t look at him, tears threatening to spill. “Y/N, baby, can you look at me, please?” His voice was gentle, a hand raising to your cheek to try and face you to him. Slowly, your eyes met his and the floodgates opened, his thumbs immediately moving to wipe the tears away. His arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you into him the best he could over the center console. “I gotchu, honey. I gotchu.”

You stayed like that for a while until you were able to calm down. When he pulled away, he softly held his face in your hands as he spoke. “How about I make you your favorite, and we watch that movie you like when we get home?”

You sniffled, nodding at his suggestion and placing a hand over one of the ones he held on your face. He always knew how to make things better. When you got back to the mansion, you two did just that and as you sat in his bed, you couldn’t help the swell in your chest when you looked over at him. “Thank you, Lo,” you whispered. When he turned to you, his eyes softened.

“Anything for my girl,” he grinned, nudging his nose against yours before placing a kiss to your lips. 

[saltnsugarbear]

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.” 

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

[ragingbookdragon]

But Are You Really?

COD Boys x Reader Blurbs

**********************************************************************

Price:

She frowned at the guards before her who were too busy chittering to notice her. “Excuse me,” she repeated herself for what seemed like the millionth time. “I’m here to see Jon. Can you please call him?”

One of the guards looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Look love, we were born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, he works here! Jon!”

“There’s a fuck-ton of John’s here, lady, be specific!” the other griped and before she could respond, a voice echoed across the gate.

“Missus Price!”

The guards spun as she made eye contact with the Scotsman jogging over; relief flooded her. “Oh, John, thank goodness.”

Soap looked over the guards. “Is everything alright here?”

One of the men snorted. “Ah, you must be the John she’s looking for, Sergeant. Keeps telling us a John is waiting for her.”

The Scot cocked a brow. “Because the Captain is.”

The two went white. “Wait—you mean, she’s…?”

“Captain Price’s girlfriend? She is.” Soap took her arm in his like a gentleman. “C’mon, Missus Price, I’ll take you to the Skipper.”

Gaz:

“I’m telling you that Kyle is my boyfriend,” she sighed for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Bullshit,” one retorted. “You’re too sexy for a guy like him.”

“First of all, sexy coming from you isn’t a compliment. Secondly, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘A guy like him?’” she glared at them. “Kyle’s a fucking hero and one badass motherfucker who works hand-in-hand with the Captain Jonathan Price while your asses are sitting here guarding a fucking gate.”

The other guard held his gun and took a step towards her. “What did you just say to us?”

She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she was very much so unarmed against two armed guards. “I—uh, I—”

“There you are, babe, I thought you got lost.”

They turned to see Gaz coming through the gate, a grin on his face; her sour expression flipped into a dazzling smile, and she greeted him with a kiss that had the guards looking away, and Gaz blushing when they pulled away.

“Nah, the modeling shoot just took a bit longer than I thought.” She took his hand as he walked her through. “Wanna see the promo-shots?”

“Always.”

Soap:

She cocked a hand on her hip and glared at the guards. “Look, I’m not even going to try and be nice. Call John MacTavish down here now.”

“We aren’t privy to taking orders from civilians,” the guard griped. “Get lost, lady.”

“JOHN MACTAVISH! BRING YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!” she bellowed from outside the gates, cupping her hands to her mouth for added distance. “IF I HAVE TO COME IN THERE TO FIND YOU, I’M GOING TO—!”

The guards tried to shush her when a yell echoed from the courtyard, “OR YOU’LL WHAT!” they all spun around to see Soap stomping over. “BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND IS LIKE BEING IN HELL ITSELF!”

“OH, THAT’S RICH CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT YOU KEEP MY FUCKING APARTMENT SEVENTY-SIX WHEN YOU’RE THERE!”

The guards weren’t even going to try and pry the two apart as they yelled in each other’s faces about leaving the toilet seat up and forgetting to unload the dishwasher, but while she had that on him, he seemed to have the fact that she moved his shit around the apartment as revenge.

She tried to walk away, but Soap’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back over the base line and into the base. “You let go—”

“Aye, shut ‘ur trap,” he retorted. “Nattering like a fucking cicada in my goddamn ear. Might as well chatted it off.”

“Oh, you fucking bas—”

Ghost:

She could feel the weight of their stares on her, and their laughter chipped away at her mood. “I’m being serious,” she muttered. “Simo—Ghost, and I are dating.”

The guard cackled. “Yeah, and I’m the fucking Queen of England.” He waved her off. “That bastard doesn’t have a girlfriend. Look at him. He doesn’t even have any friends.”

Indignation shot through her, and she got up in the guard’s face. “Simon has friends. He has Price, and Gaz, and Soap. He doesn’t have many, but he does have friends. And he has me. I am Simon’s girlfriend.” Fear dripped in her veins as the guards seemed to stand offensively at her, and she added with her heart pounding in her chest, “And I’m as cowardly as they come, but if it came to it, I…I would lay down my life for him. The world needs Simon. I need Simon. He’s a hero and a better man than either of you.”

One raised their hand at her, either to strike her or intimidate her with a feint but his hand didn’t get farther than beside his head when someone grabbed it, spun him around and slammed him against the wall. “You gonna strike a civilian, soldier?” a cold voice rumbled behind his ear. “That’s an offense I’d see you punished for. Even more so for it being my lover.”

Her expression eased as she saw Ghost appear before her. “Simon,” she murmured, and his eyes darted to hers, softening a quick moment before turning frigid again.

“If you ever raise a hand to her again, I’ll cut it off and make you eat it one finger at a time. Am I clear?”

“Crystal!” the guard hurried and Ghost shoved him to the ground and secured a hand around her waist, bringing her over the gate.

“C’mon, love.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Sorry about that. Tried to come earlier but the meeting ran late.”

“You were there when I needed you,” she replied, leaning her head against his chest. “Like a knight in masked armor.”

He looked at her, eyes shining in a way that told her he was smiling at her.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Take Care

Sherlock and Mycroft x little sister!reader, John x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: you get a startling diagnosis that turns everyone around you overprotective

Warnings: cancer, mentions of death (no actual death)

“She…she has what?”

John looked up from his newspaper at the sound of Sherlock’s distress. He had picked up a call from Mycroft and answered with the usual bored disdain, but after listening for a moment he had sat up rigid in his chair.

“I see,” Sherlock went on. “I’ll be right over, I…oh. Yes, alright.”

“What was that all about?” John asked as Sherlock put the phone down. After a moment, John thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he spoke, his voice dazed.

“What? Oh, Y/N, she’s…Mycroft is bringing her over for a bit.”

“Is she alright?” John asked hesitantly.

“I…no. I don’t know,”

“Sherlock this is ridiculous, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You had become quite the regular at Baker Street, sleeping over there almost as much as you stayed with Mycroft, your legal guardian.

“Y/N…she has cancer.”

“She what?” Surely he had heard wrong.

“Mycroft took her in for an appointment, routine check up, that’s all, but…” Sherlock swallowed, and didn’t finish.

“How…I mean…” John wasn’t sure how to ask about the severity.

“I’m not sure,” Sherlock said finally. “Mycroft didn’t say much.”

“Hey Sherlock!” To say Sherlock was surprised when you came bounding into 221B like nothing was wrong would be a severe understatement.

“Hello,” he greeted hollowly. You stepped past him to bring your bag to your room, and Sherlock turned to look at Mycroft.

“She knows?” He asked quietly, and Mycroft nodded.

“I believe she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“How bad is it?”

“They said they aren’t sure about the outcome. They want to start treatments as soon as possible, and it all depends on how she responds to it. All we can do is make sure she gets enough rest and water between visits for now.”

“Alright,” Sherlock sighed. “Then we do all we can do.”

…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You looked up at Sherlock with a frown.

“Just for a walk.”

“No you’re not,” he responded. “It’s time you took a nap.”

“Gee grandma, you first,” you scoffed.

“Y/N, don’t be like that,” John insisted.

“You guys really aren’t gonna let me take a walk?” You glared at the two men, who didn’t waver an inch. “Fine,” you groaned, brushing past them to your room and closing the door.

…

“Drink.”

“I’ve had like four glasses of water today Mycroft, I’m not thirsty.”

Mycroft gestured to the glass in front of you insistently. You rolled your eyes and took a sip.

“Finish that, and then you should take a nap.”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s right,” Sherlock chimed in from the sofa.

“Since when do you two agree on anything?” You scoffed.

“Since now.”

You glared at Mycroft.

“You can’t lay off for one afternoon?”

“No.”

“Ok, I’ll nap on one condition; you let me go to Christie’s later, she wanted to study together.”

“You’ll take a nap either way,” Mycroft responded.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“No, because I don’t have to. You’ll do as you’re told.”

“John, a little help?”

“Don’t look at me,” John raised his hands. “I’m with them.”

“Could you guys stop treating me like this for two seconds?” Your tone rose with your anger.

“Like what?” Mycroft’s resolve hadn’t changed.

“Like I’m an invalid!” You shoved past your brothers and slammed the door to your room.

…

“She won’t answer.”

“I know that,” Sherlock griped at his older brother.

“Should we pick the lock?”

“She’d kill us.”

“Well, she’s worrying me, she’s been in there for a while,” Mycroft pulled out a lock pick and got to work.

When the lock clicked, he called out a warning.

“We’re coming in if you don’t open this door!”

Silence.

Mycroft pushed open the door, and sighed in relief when he saw you on your bed, a book in your lap and headphones in your ears. You looked up in disgust.

“Privacy much?” You growled as you pulled your headphones out of your ears.

“You’ve been in here for too long, and you wouldn’t answer when we knocked,” Mycroft insisted.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Because we need to talk,” Sherlock came to stand by your bed.

“About what?”

“About ‘how we treat you’,” Mycroft sighed.

“Alright, talk.”

“You know why we do it,” Sherlock insisted.

“Yeah, because you’re nosy control freaks.”

“Because we’re worried,” Mycroft corrected.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“That’s a load of crap,” everyone turned in surprise when John entered the room. “You know full well why they’re scared, and you are too. There’s not much we can do, alright? The only things we can do is make sure you get your rest in between treatments, and try our best to take care of you. So that’s what we’re doing.”

You were silent for a long moment.

“I-I just…” the tears in your eyes were perhaps the most surprising because it was the first time your family had seen you cry since the news came. “I don’t want to spend what could be my last few months just…resting. Wasting time, relaxing, and-and-“

“Hey,” the sternness in Mycroft’s tone shut you up immediately. “These aren’t your last few months. That’s what we’re trying to ensure by keeping you rested, and able to fight this.”

“We’re not letting you die, understand?” Sherlock lowered himself to meet your gaze.

“Ok,” you choked, and you were relieved when John stepped forwards and pulled you into his arms.

“You’re going to be ok,” he promised.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

[valentinedaughtler]

Tainted Opal (Part 6)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: Your boat has been docked in Fjerda and you forgot your coat…. (But Kaz has a coat…👀)

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

6 - Kaz Brekker Always Had a Reason

The ship was docked on the west coast of Fjerda, frozen plains stretches over the horizon into a snowy oblivion. The ocean was deeply frigid, an innocent plunge would send you to a numbing death.

Everyone, except prepared Matthias, was painfully underdressed. Jesper reminded us all frequently through whiney griping. We teased him about it, saying his fancy hats would not even be able to warm him up. My social circle included all the Crows, but I lingered longer around Inej and Nina. We all seemed to feel a feminine connection to one another; an easy group to complain about the boys' nonsense to.

As Nina and I shivered, we huddled near one another, the long trek around the Fold just beginning. Matthias held Nina close, insuring that she would be warm, despite her heartrender abilities.

Eventually, Nina moved between the cold Crows, circulating their blood into a more rapid speed to keep their temperatures up. Thus, I was left with the massive Fjerdan man. I'd seduced many men, but only a few looked like they could snap me in half like a twig for a fire like he did.

"Do you miss Fjerda?" I asked with an inquisitive tilt of the head. Matthias's face contorted slightly, his jaw shifting and eyebrows stitching together. He stayed silent for a moment before sighing,

"I do miss my people in some ways, but sometimes you find a person who changes your values...," he replied with a thick accent. It was sharp and pronounced, I had a feeling if he yelled at you it would feel like a brick to the face. I nodded as he watched Nina. "Do you miss your life before Ketterdam swallowed it up?"

"No-...," I tried to articulate how I felt about my past, but I guess I wasn't too sure. "I miss the specifics, the small details. Though, when I think about the big picture, I don't miss any of it." I let out a shivered breath before speaking again, "I don't want to think back fondly on what my life had been, trying to write an edited version with only the good plot points. It's easier to not think about it at all, no story is better than a bad one, don't you think?" I craned my neck to look at Matthias's eyes, they looked harsh and painful, but maybe they were pained instead.

"I think you should just keep writing the story," he acknowledged my thought with a nod. "Maybe find new characters to add to it rather than making it a one-man narration." I laughed softly, an unexpected response from him.

"Nina seems to be a good influence on you," smirking at him with a knowing glint in my eye. He really loves her, I thought as I made my way to the heartrender herself. "Nina!" I waddled my way across the tundra to her and Kaz. She seemed a bit exasperated as the dark haired boy begrudgingly allowed her to use her small science on him.

"Y/n, can you tell him that I will not be stopping his heartbeat?" She huffed as Kaz squirmed away from her slightly.

"That's enough," he said, but I heard his teeth chatter a bit through that gravely voice. I laughed, asking Nina to warm me up instead. She excitedly obliged, leaving Kaz to sulk in peace.

She began to chuckle to herself as she contorted her soft fingers to work her 'majik'.

"What is it?" I inquired with growing curiosity. She turned to me with a suggestive smile and a wink.

"Kaz was watching you, earlier, when you were taking to Matthias." Her grin widened, showing her pearly, white teeth. My cheeks burned when the meaning behind her words clicked in my brain. She continued, "I may have called him out on such. He got real defense," she dragged out her words with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"He's always defensive. He's basically a human defense system; a wall." I said, attempting to use logic. He barely knew me, unless we had met somewhere before, Kaz wouldn't trust me this early on, I knew that much.

"Well, yes, but you did pay upfront, he doesn't really need you alive, so..." Nina batted her eyelashes at me, mimicking a lovestruck girl. I flushed as I looked back at Kaz, limping a few feet behind us, when he met my gaze I spun back around, tensing up. Nina leaned close to my ear, "you're blushing... and I can tell your heartbeat has fluctuated frequently when he is near you-"

"Okayy, thank you, my darling, Nina, but I should really be going-,"

"You should be discussing plans with me since we are getting closer to the main path," rasped Kaz from behind me. I stifled a startled scream. Geez, what's with me? I'm never actually flustered around people and I've... been in intimate situations during heists many a time. Nina flashed me a smile and a wink before leaving Kaz and I alone. I sighed with relief as I know her torment would be at bay, for now.

"When we get to the trail's end, we should find shelter for the night, there are abandoned cabins all over Fjerda. That's what my dad told me, atleast," my voice was still a bit shakey as I tried to slow my heart rate down. Kaz nodded.

"It's the safest gamble to set up camp at the first cabin we see that doesn't have occupants in it," his tone was somehow more formal than it generally was, his body seemed tense. Had he heard what Nina had said? I looked at the cheery woman far up ahead, her bubbly laugh echoing across the frozen wasteland we trekked.

I walked with Kaz in silence, maintaining a couple feet of distance between us, I wasn't sure why, but I felt that if I touched him that he might snap. Whether that indicated him imploding or killing me, I wasn't sure. But I respected his need for space. I felt like I yearned to be alone often, since intimate touch was an important part of my job. It often wasn't by people I wanted to touch me too. Maybe it bothered me because I was so young, but no one in Ketterdam stayed young. Instead of a slow climb to adulthood, it was a drowning process. Before, you were something, but after you plunged up for air, you weren't much anymore.

A gust of wind blew hair into my face and sent a shiver throughout my body, like hitting a metal drum and watching it vibrate. Kaz seemed to suppress the chill he felt, huffing slightly as the wind blew towards us.

"Why didn't you bring a jacket?" Kaz grumbled, his glare colder than the snow melting in my boots. "Your chattering teeth is starting to irritate me."

"I originally thought we'd be headed through Shu Han," I said through long breaths. I suddenly felt a thick jacket be placed.., no, more so dropped onto my shoulders. I turned to the Crow beside me, who refused to meet my gaze. With a breathy laugh, I slipped my arms into the jacket. It was soft and warm, but oversized on me. I dug my chilly hands into the lined pockets. "Thank you."

Kaz stayed silent, but I could tell he was cold in only his shirt and vest. "We need you in good health. The Crows, especially Matthias, need your tailoring skills to disguise us. I assume your business partner also knows of me, so that would be a problem." He explained, as if justifying his decision to himself.

We eventually reached a fork in the road, both paths leading to long, winding expanses of lifeless tundra. I indicated the correct road, but as we made our way, we saw a small shack.

The skeleton of the building was stacked logs and eroded wood was sparsticslly laying in chunks near the house. The inside had creaky wooden floors, a small kitchen area and bed rested on opposing sides. Fur hanging from the walls, for decor and warmth probably, a small fire place, and a couch were the only other things of note in the barren room.

"Oh, it reminds me of how Matthias and I had spent our first night together," Nina purred with a silly smile.

"Wylan and I are too fancy to sleep on the floor," Jesper said while sprawling out on the make-shift mattress. No one objected, but Matthias and Nina called the couch. Us single three left mutually decided we were on our own for sleeping areas.

"There's enough fur for the rest of us to just sleep on the floor separately," Inej pointed out, "but I'm okay sharing with Y/n if there is a shortage of blankets." She smiled at me and squeezed my hand. I returned her sentiment by promising to braid her hair later.

Jesper's eyes wandered around the room in observation, eventually landing on jacket-less Kaz and my body that was swallowed by said-jacket. His lips crooked into a sly grin.

"Nice jacket, Y/n," Jesper said and his eyes landed on the coat's owner, who froze.

"I'm going to collect firewood," Kaz grumbled and made his way outside the cabin quite quickly.

"I'll be right with ya', boss!" Jesper shot up from the bed and jogged after Kaz, his giggling and teasing still audible.

"Should we leave them alone in the woods?" Nina asked, "Kaz may kill the poor boy." Everyone laughed a bit, knowing looks shared between everyone besides me. I've been too casual, I've grown too close to them. Maybe... I should stay away from Kaz a bit since we aren't trapped on a boat together any longer.

✵ ♣ ✵

"He gave you his jacket?" Inej repeated the words I just spewed out nervously. I nodded in response as she turned to look at me with shock.

We sat together on the roof, which was very difficult for for me to get up to after Inej did so with grace. Stealth was not my thing. She sat in front of my crossed legs, leaning on me slightly, as I braided her hair ornately. The repetitive motions soothed me as I felt the pressure of the coming heist. "The last couple nights on the boat we've both gotten nightmares from too much time on the sea," I explained. "We've been talking from late to early, until the sunrises, or just sitting in silence."

Inej giggled a bit, I felt her shake against me as the laugh vibrated through her. "He doesn't grow fond of people quickly, I can't be sure, but I want you to stay with us after the heist," Inej said softly.

I hummed in response, "we'll see. Even if we part ways, I'll stay in touch with you and Nina." I couldn't see her face, but I could tell Inej was smiling.

We both looked down to see a babbling Jesper walking next to an exhausted looking Kaz. Inej turned to me as I had just finished braiding her long hair. Her lips were crooked into a michevious grin.

"Let's scare them," she whispered softly. I was pretty sure Kaz would have seen us by now, knowing how observant he is, but the idea was too tempting. We slid behind the slant of the roof and Inej silently leaped to a nearby tree, her wire-y figure wrapping around the limbs on it, gripping the bark. She chucked a pinecone at Jesper, knocking the eccentric hat off of his head. He squeaked as he attempted to get the snow off of his hat. Inej disappeared behind the tree as the two boys looked up at the direction the pinecone came from. As I aimed to hit Kaz with a pinecone, I slipped slightly. His keen eyes landed on the roof, but not before I hid myself from his line of vision.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." I whispered, still wearing Kaz's coat. I stayed silent for a moment before hearing the crunching of boots in the snow. I quickly hurled the pinecone at Kaz's head, but he swung his cane, hitting the pinecone perfectly. He didn't even look up. Before I realized it, the pinecone was headed straight for me. He was aiming for me. I dodged it, but in the process my grip on the roof loosened, causing me to slide down the roof towards Jesper and Kaz. They looked up at the roof, and the sharpshooter leaped to catch me. I fell into his arms with a thud.

I smiled nervously, "hey guys..." Inej shimmied down the tree and quickly came to check on me. Jesper let me down, laughing the whole time, but Kaz had an indescribable expression on his face.

"I told you we can't have you dead," his tone was serious, my smile dropping abruptly. "Stick to what you're good at; making your presence known, Seductress." He admonished my actions as he walked inside with firewood in one hand, cane in the other. Why am I so foolish when I'm around him?

Inej followed after him, sternly explaining it was her idea. I felt a warmth in my heart as she defended me.

"Come, Y/n, let's talk," Jesper said. He had a pelt of fur draped over him, keeping him warmer. I followed him in the frosty woods behind the cabin. He smirked a bit as we made our way around trees and fallen logs, as well as other suffering vegetation.

"Is something wrong? Do you need relationship advice for Wylan?" I asked with a twinge of concern.

"Oh, no, no. It's about Kaz," his self-assured demeanor stayed strong as I attempted to keep pace with his long-limbed figure. "He's taken an unusual liking to you." He gestured to coat I was wearing.

"He was just being polite," I said, but even I had a hard time saying it without becoming skeptical.

Jesper snorted and shook his head, "Kaz isn't nice to for no reason, Y/n. Despite was people say, Kaz Brekker always has a reason."

_____________

Word Count: 2344

_____________

I realize this seems more like a fast paced romance, but don't worry, the girl falls first in this story. We'll get there...

-Valentine

[edwinspaynes]

I recently took up rereading the ACOTAR Christmas novel given the season.

For context I read the series way back when it was first debuting, enjoyed them but never reread them again.

I was very young mind you.

But when the series exploded after covid it felt a bit overrated but I didn’t really mind it.

After rereading it at a way more senior age then I initially read them, I found that they were really not as well written as I initially thought. But maybe I was too young to figure that out.

What are your main gripes with the series? I know you recently read ACOSF.

I DNF'ed ACOSF actually, I couldn't do it.

I dislike the characters besides Nesta and Gwyn. By this, I mean ALL of them. Rhysand hits the same Bad spot as other manipulative male characters for me, as does Cassian. I think most of the ships in ACOTAR, like most of the ships in ToG, are REALLY abusive.

SJM's depictions of sex are also so ridiculous and imbalanced. She seems to think this is kinky, but if that's what she's going for, the kink is EXTREMELY undernegotiated. I personally think it's got nothing to do with kink but is instead a reflection of how the men in the world she's build view women. And the world she's build makes that Okay, that women are there to sexually serve their men and are all Happy About It.

Also since you brought up the novella - what the fuck is Rhysand cumming uncontrollably to the projected thought of his unborn baby??? That was SO INSANE and has stuck with me in the worst way.

I also find SJM's world building to be a study in how not to build a world. It's inconsistent, it's flat, and it's so thin and flimsy. Also, why wouldn't anyone want to be a faerie? A well-developed fantasy world needs to give each creature its pros and cons.

For example, in TSC, Shadowhunters are the 'ruling class,' but they're culty and overly bound by their rules to the point that individual Shadowhunters feel like they have little freedom. They also die A Lot. Warlocks have magic, but they're very oppressed by the Clave AND their powers have a lot of limits. Immortality is both a blessing and a curse. Vampires and werewolves are strong, but they are in constant conflict - and vampires can't go out in the sun while werewolves are bound to pack structures.

But in ACOTAR, being a faerie affords you ridiculous strength and stamina, limitless power, and.... there are no cons! Why is anyone upset about changing? It's unclear!

I also don't like the inconsistency. Like, in book one, Tamlin is The Man. Book 2 works SO hard to assassinate his character and for absolutely no reason besides SJM thinks Rhysand is Hot Shit. I do appreciate Tamlin apparently "trapping her" and "treating her like a breeding mare" when Rhysand literally does both of those things regularly and actually makes everyone smell her pregnancy hormones (wtf) in ACOSF.

They're literally studies in How Not to Write Books, and I have actually learned a lot about What Not To Do from SJM.

[blakelysco-pilot]

being shocked that they eat something in a peculiar way (like the whole how to eat a kitkat debate)

or

getting annoyed when they decide to wash dishes right when the other gets in the shower, making their water cold unexpectedly

for whichever couple sparks your inspiration!

-lestweforget5

Thank you so much for the ask, friend! I combined both of your choices. I hope you like it!

Prompts from this list if you’d like to request one. My ask box is open💗

The smell of coffee was the first to rouse him from sleep. Blue eyes blinking away the cobwebs of his dreams, Rosie turned in bed ready to continue his morning with his wife in his arms, but found that Jo’s side of the bed was empty. The sheets pulled up neatly, he could only guess she had gone downstairs some time ago. With a heavy sigh, he let himself remain under the covers a few moments longer before the scent of the coffee became too alluring. Stuffing his feet into his slippers and pulling on his robe, he quickly padded from the bedroom, stopping only when he met Ev Blakely in the hallway.

“Rosie…”

“Ev,” Rosie nodded, peering behind him to see if his wife was in tow. “Val get up early too?”

“Explains the coffee.” He gestured down the stairs, letting Rosie go ahead of him.

The cottage that the two couples had rented in Martha’s Vineyard was bathed in sunlight as the men made their way downstairs. It had been Jo and Val’s idea, a getaway before the end of the summer to get out of the city. It hadn’t taken much persuading on the girls part to get their husbands to agree to a few days off. Still in the honeymoon phase, both men had gladly conceded to their wives request for a couples trip.

Entering the kitchen, they found both women wrapped up in their robes, hair still tied up in their scarves, puttering around. Jo was pouring coffee, watching toast on the griddle, and Val was in front of the stove moving something around in a frying pan.

“Look who’s up,” Val hadn’t even looked up from her task, “Good morning sleeping beauties.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” Blakely crossed the kitchen quickly, dropping a kiss to his wife’s lips, his eyes lighting up as he saw what she was cooking. “I’d gripe about you leaving me in bed, but you’re making eggs in purgatory!”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Absolutely,” He winked, gratefully accepting the coffee that Jo had poured for him. “Thanks, Jo.”

“Oh you’re welcome. I know I’m no Red Cross gal, but I hope it will suffice.”

Jo carried two mugs across to Rosie, who was still standing in the entrance to the kitchen, watching his wife and their friends start their day. She held hers in one hand, gently passing the other off to him with a smile and a good morning kiss.

“Missed you when I got up…” Rosie pouted, blue eyes twinkling in mischief.

“You were sound asleep, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

“You’re forgiven,” He grinned. “You made me coffee.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet!” She winked, gently pinching his side before moving back to check on the toast.

“Sit down you two, breakfast is almost done.” Val peeked over her shoulder at them, gesturing to the two seats they had occupied the night before when they all sat down for dinner.

“What did you say she was making?” Rosie posed the question to Blakely over the top of his coffee cup, watching as the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Eggs in purgatory,” Rosie wasn’t sure, but he could almost see Blakely’s mouth watering. “I never had it until I met her mother, and it’s the best breakfast ever.”

“Eggs in…purgatory?!”

“It’s fried eggs in tomato sauce, with Parmesan cheese, some parsley, and a little red pepper.”

“Eggs in tomato sauce!?” Rosie looked between his two friends, Jo leaning over the table to place a basket filled with toast between the boys. “Val, not everything needs to be cooked in tomato sauce.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” She grinned, bringing the frying pan over to the table and setting it on a trivet.

“And yes, it does,” Blakely immediately reached for the serving spoon, first dishing up to the girls before feeding himself and Rosie. “Come on, Rosie, live a little!”

“Eggs in tomato sauce…” Rosie shook his head with a laugh, picking up his fork. His wife and friends looked on as he took a tentative first bite.

“Honey?” Jo looked over at him, waiting for any kind of reaction.

“Pass me that toast, would ya, Blakely…” Was the only response around another mouthful of eggs.

____________________

“You girls go on, we’ll clean up breakfast.”

“Are you sure?” Jo looked at her husband skeptically, knowing that Rosie never voluntarily did the dishes unless his mother was in the room.

“Yes, go on,” He ushered her out of the kitchen with a kiss. “Least I can do after giving Val’s cooking the third degree.”

“Then why am I on dish duty too?” Ev looked at his friend from where he was pouring another cup of coffee for Val.

“Shut up,” Rosie rolled his eyes, watching as Blakely handed Val her coffee and sent her on her way. “Get a towel, you’re gonna dry these.”

“No wonder Pappy went home after you reupped. Bossy.” Ev grumbled, and both girls could be heard laughing as they climbed the stairs to their respective bedrooms to begin getting ready for the day.

Both men began shuffling plates and cups off the table and into the sink to soak, listening carefully for the sound of their respective bedroom doors closing after their wives. With the now empty frying pan on the counter, waiting to be scrubbed, Rosie turned to Everett who had dutifully picked up a dish towel.

“Does Val know?”

“About the vineyard and lunch?” Ev rolled his eyes as if to prove their secret was safe. “Not a thing.”

“Neither does Jo.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t suggest it, didn’t she come here with her parents as a kid?”

“Oh yea,” Rosie laughed, turning back towards the sink. “She hated it.”

“Then why…”

“Beats me,” Rosie shrugged. “But I was happy to pack up and get away for a few days.”

“You can say that again.” Ev sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“No, seriously. She caught me sleeping at the kitchen table last week, a case file under my head like a damn pillow.”

The men, both fully engrossed in their chatter, hadn't heard the showers upstairs turn on in their respective bedrooms. So when Rosie turned the sink on, and let the hot water run for a moment, it hadn’t occurred to him where that hot water was coming from.

“Alright pal, let’s get these dishes-“

“ROBERT!”

“EVERETT!”

“On second thought…”

“Yea, let’s uh, let’s just go…”

“Mhmm, right behind ya pal!”

[siren-meets]

Your Braids Like a Pattern (BoB OFC One-Shot)

Nora Price doesn’t want to admit that her deteriorating hair in the Ardennes is bothering her. Luz and the boys offer some much-needed TLC.

Word count: 1820

Warnings: None! Platonic unless you squint ;)

A/N: My best friend finally joined the BoB fandom, and she dragged me back with her head-first. Thanks @indigo-graves! Check out her writing, too!

Nora knew that her hair was ruined. She knew it when her French braid had turned into an indiscernible mass of frizz. She knew it when the braid got wet and shrank into a sopping bird’s nest, which then turned into a dry and brittle bird’s nest. She knew it when Luz and Lipton’s eyes flitted upwards whenever she took her helmet off.

Lipton had tried to say something— in his own way. Take care of yourself. Why don’t you visit Nixon and Winters’ tent? They’ve got more amenities over there.

He and Luz— her foxhole mates— had been whispering about her for days now, and she had a feeling it wasn’t just about her hair. She had been brushing off the men’s concerns left and right. She was sleeping in a foxhole. She’d be damned if she was the one worried about her hair. She was fine.

Then, the wrong man had made the wrong comment on the wrong day.

It was midday, and the men had all congregated near a low fire where Malarkey had whipped up a pot of beans to distribute for lunch. Nora had spent the day making house calls to different foxholes to check that the men were changing and airing out their socks in a rotation that would prevent trench foot.

“Here, Nora,” Guarnere greeted, handing her the tin cup of beans that he had just received from Malarkey. She nodded her thanks as he grabbed another for himself. Babe came up next to her, a pair of socks slung over his shoulder.

“I can’t tell if these are drying or just freezing,” he said, gesturing to the socks.

“As long as they aren’t on your feet…” Nora murmured around a mouthful of beans. “You could get them away from my food though.”

She said it with a tired but teasing tone, taking a step away from the younger man, and he scoffed. “Yeah, better step back anyway— I wouldn’t want your hair to start eating me.”

Nora’s posture tensed as she became suddenly very aware of herself. The men nearest them had gone quiet, noticing the change in her demeanor, and after taking a few more bites of her beans, she handed the tin cup off to Malarkey.

“I’ll be in my foxhole if anyone needs me — gonna try and catch some shut-eye in case there’s any shelling tonight.”

She excused herself and Luz, who had been happily chatting with Muck and Penkala, groaned.

“Jesus, Babe!” He griped. “You had to bring up the hair?”

“What?” Babe said, his eyes wide as he looked around at the disapproving faces of his companions. “She ribbed me, and I ribbed her back.”

He was met with a chorus of chiding from the other men as Luz went after Nora.

When Luz arrived at the foxhole, Nora was attempting to yank a comb through her matted locks.

“Woah, easy there,” he said, dropping into the hole next to her. She grunted with frustration as she tried to remove the lodged comb; her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Hey, Babe didn’t mean anything by that, you know,” he said, grimacing as he watched her.

“I know,” she said between greeted teeth. “I don’t care. It’s just hair.”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed, despite the fact that she very clearly did care.

She struggled with the mess for another minute before finally freeing the comb and taking in its broken teeth. Her face began to crumple, and Luz tensed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna have to cut it all off,” she said. Her voice had the tiniest waver to it, though he knew she was trying her hardest to hide it.

“What?” He scoffed. “You’re crazy! No one’s cutting it off.”

He gestured for her to turn her back to him, and he got on his knees behind her, assessing the damage. He was glad she couldn’t see his face. He prodded at it a bit. “This is—yeah, we can work with this.”

He held a beckoning hand over her shoulder, and she reluctantly surrendered the comb to him. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Luz said as he started picking at the mass with the comb’s remaining teeth. “We’ll get you sorted.”

“Thanks,” Nora replied, and he felt a pang in his chest when her voice came out small. “I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” said Luz. “What’s stupid is this comb.”

The two were quiet for a long while as Luz worked through the knots. He hoped he wasn’t doing more damage than help.

“Maybe I should just cut it off,” Nora whispered. “Braiding it to keep it out of the way is what got me into this mess.”

“Nope,” said Luz. “I promised that not a hair on your head would be harmed on my watch, and that includes…well, your hair.”

Nora laughed and sniffled. Her shoulders had relaxed considerably since he started. “How’s it going back there?”

Luz sat back on his heels to survey his work. “I think we’re gonna have to take it in stages.”

Three hours later, they were starting to see some progress, but not nearly as much as Luz had led Nora to hope. When his arms grew tired, Lipton, who had returned to the foxhole, took a shift with the new comb he had sourced.

Nora’s scalp was starting to feel tender, and she made a point not to look at the comb to make note of how much hair was coming out.

“It’s only because your hair’s so thick,” Luz assured her. “That’s a good thing.”

Nora winced as he pulled as a particularly difficult tangle at the top of the matted section. Joe Toye, who was passing by their foxhole on the way to watch the line with his rifle slung over his shoulder, made eye contact and tipped his chin in acknowledgement. Nora waved, cringing when she felt a particularly taut hair release from her scalp.

Toye slowed, lingering near the hole for a few moments wordlessly as he watched Luz work.

“Everything okay?” Nora asked, wondering if he needed medical attention. He glanced in the direction of the front line and back as if debating with himself. His tongue was pushed into his cheek in that perpetual expression of frustration he wore.

“Luz, the Germans would be gentler than that,” He groused.

“Hey, what do you want from me?” Luz said between clenched teeth as he placed the comb in his mouth and attempted to work the knot between his fingers instead. “I’m tryin’ here.”

“You gotta start at the bottom,” Toye said. Luz’s movements paused as he processed the instruction.

“Brush up?” He said. “How does that make sense, Joe?”

“No, you gotta—” Toye growled, glancing around before taking his rifle off his shoulder and propping it in the side of the foxhole. “Move over.”

Luz ceded to the man, moving to sit on the edge of the foxhole. Toye knelt behind Nora and took the comb from Luz with a glare. He started at the bottom of the matted section, picking at it in short, downward movements. “You still comb down, you just do it like this and work your way up.”

The relief was almost instantaneous, though Nora didn’t say anything out of respect for the comfort Luz had been trying to offer. Toye continued to work gently at her hair, and when Lipton returned to the foxhole to see that progress was finally being made, he offered to take Toye’s spot on the line while he worked.

After Nora’s original panic had passed, she continued to feel self-conscious about the attention that was being paid to her problem. She had dreaded the other men teasing her friends for “doing her hair,” even in good fun, but the company seemed to be united in sympathy for her struggle. That, and she suspected Toye’s eyes were daring them to say something.

Even Nixon and Winters came in to check on their progress when they heard about the effort. Nixon crouched in front of Nora and pulled out a bottle of hair tonic. “I don’t know if it’ll help with the detangling, but it should help with some of the damage.”

She thanked the Captain profusely as Luz took the bottle and began dousing her hair in it. Toye and Luz bickered over her head about the best way to distribute it into the matted section. When Toye needed to head back to the line, Luz took up his post again with a much gentler touch now that he had been shown some technique. Toye had uncomfortably brushed off her heartfelt thanks, and she made a mental note to source a pack of cigarettes for him instead.

It wasn’t long before Babe came along with his tail tucked between his legs. “Hey, Nora,” He said with a nervous chuckle. “Lookin’ good!”

“Relax, Heffron,” she said. “I’m not mad.”

His relief was palpable. “Oh, phew! Cause, you know I didn’t mean it. I was just razzing you.”

“I know,” said Nora.

“If you’re really sorry, why don’t you grab a comb,” Luz said, gesturing to the extra that Lipton had left laying on his pack. Babe did just that, plopping down next to Luz. The three of them chatted and laughed as the two men continued to chisel away at the loosening mass, and Nora, for the first time in weeks, felt more like herself.

After eight hours and several rotating shifts, Luz shoved at Nora’s back. Nora, who had been drifting to sleep sitting up, pitched forward and turned to look at him. “What? Shelling?”

“No, not shelling,” Luz said, smiling. “Watch this.”

He pulled her closer again and placed his comb at the crown of her head, dragging it from root to tip with no resistance. His face was open and anticipatory as he watched for her reaction.

Nora reached back to run her hand over the hair, gasping at how silky it felt. She had anticipated much worse for the end result. She laughed, her eyes tearing up with unshed tears of relief. “Luz, you’re my hero.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, waving a dismissive hand despite the proud glow on his face.

“I’m serious,” she said, refusing to let him brush this off. “I don’t know what I would do out here without you.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, swallowing. He glanced again at her hair, which she had now pulled over her shoulder to run her fingers through, and then back at her face. She could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to say something serious, but true to his nature, he landed on a joke instead. “Want me to braid it for you now?”

She shoved his shoulders, fighting a smile as she watched him throw his head back in laughter. “Alright, too soon. How about you just leave that down? It’s cold out here.”

[goosecastle41]

Anything For You, Doll

A little story inspired by @sims-fanatic-and-sprats-enjoyer for the coalecroux kid au, please enjoy

“Papa! What’s taking so long?!”

Gideon isn’t sure what’s worse here. The whines of a child, or what the child is asking him to do.

“Well-! I just-...! It’s not as easy as you think it is, Seren!” Gideon flounders, pulling his hands back from his daughters head. The needle Gideon had sterilized with his fire is pinched between his fingers, though to him it feels like a sword his daughter has asked him to run through her eat.

Seren, sweet little Seren, has gotten the idea of earrings into her head. She had seen many people before with dangly jewelry hanging from their ears in her eight years of life and had been fascinated each time. The way the gold or silver hangs from little holes in their ears, the way the gems or jewels would catch the suns light and make them sparkle, the beautiful or simple design of different peoples earrings. All of it just fascinated Seren.

For months, Seren has been green with envy at the sight of earrings. Seeing older women with beautiful and intricate gold wrapped around bright gems. Seeing men with silver rings going through their lobes or the cartilage. She’s even met some children with ear rings! And they’re all so pretty! Seren has been a fan of beautiful and shiny things her entire life, and the thought that she’s missing out on a facet of being shiny and pretty is devastating to her.

So, when Seren had dragged Gideon and Kremy over to a case of jewelry while in a shop a few days back, stars shining in her eyes as she points to a set of earrings, all Kremy could do was sigh and pull out his coin purse.

In the moment, Gideon had thought it was devastatingly adorable how excited Seren had gotten. She practically squealed as she tackle hugged Kremy’s legs while saying thank you a million times. Kremy’s gotten a lot better at letting Seren touch and hug him, seeing as he gives her a (still slightly awkward) hug back with a “Anything for you, doll.”

It was annoyingly cute how she took the earrings from the shop keep and held them like they were the most precious possessions Seren has ever owned. A set of silver earrings that dangle from small chains, a ruby wrapped in the center of the silver, shining brightly in the light. Seren held the box they came in out in her palms, staring at it almost the whole walk back to the inn.

But nothing about this situation is cute anymore, Gideon has decided.

The day before they decided to leave the town and head on to their next adventure- I.E. another con- Seren had come up to Gideon holding her new earrings and had asked the fated question.

“Would you pierce my ears and put these in for me?”

And so here they are, almost an hour after Seren had initially asked the question. She sits on a chair in their Inn room, her feet kicking impatiently as she almost glares up at Gideon. “It can’t be that hard!” She gripes, causing Gideon to scoff.

“Then why don’t you do it yourself if it ain’t that hard?” He asks, getting a loud groan from his daughter.

“‘Cause I can’t see in the mirror with my hands in the way! Uhg! This is taking forever!” She cries, kicking her feet harder before she falls limp in the chair, boneless. Gideon almost wants to throw a tantrum as well.

“Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry, alright?” He says instead, deciding to be the adult in this situation, “But.. Your ears are just.. They’re too small for me, alright? Maybe you just gotta grow some more.” Being the adult apparently means making up lame excuses because the thought of hurting his daughter makes him nauseous, Gideon thinks.

Gideon has never struggled with the idea of hurting something before. Sure, maybe he doesn’t want to hurt things sometimes, but he’s never felt physically sick because of it. His hands had never wavered before, never shaken before he delivered pain and agony to his target… But Gideons never had a daughter before. Gideons never had something that flipped his whole world upside down and then righted it again by calling him Papa. Gideons never tried to hurt something so precious to him before.

Instead of escalating her tantrum, Seren slumps further in her seat with defeat. Frustrated tears well in her eyes, bringing her hands up to wipe at them before they could begin to fall. “Okay…” She says, voice tight and devastated.

“Oh for gods sake!”

Gideon looks over to where Kremy had been sat and counting his coin at the table in the room. He watches as Kremy rises from his own chair, coin forgotten as he rubs a hand over his face and approaches Gideon and Seren.

“Gimmie that! You big god damn baby…” Kremy snaps as he snatches the needle from Gideons fingers. “Lemme show you how it’s done.”

At that, the complete devastation on Seren’s face wipes away immediately. She breaks into a smile, looking up at Kremy with unabashed excitement as she sits up in the chair again.

Gideon thinks he had been hiding his nerves well while he was the one holding the needle, but the moment it’s in Kremy’s hand, Gideons composure fully breaks.

“Hey, be careful, man.” He says quickly, fighting off the urge to grab the needle back and call off the whole thing. His face gives way to his nerves almost immediately, his eyebrows knitting together and a grimace working its way to his lips.

It’s not as if Gideon doesn’t trust Kremy. That’s not the case at all. Gideon would trust Kremy with his entire being and soul after how long they’ve been traveling and practically raising a kid together. He trusts Kremy more than he trusts himself. But just the thought of Seren being hurt-

“Hush.” Kremy says as he points a clawed finger at Gideon, cutting off his train of thought. All Gideon can do then is nod, lips pursing together. He trusts Kremy.. He trusts Kremy more than himself.

“Now. You know this is gonna hurt, right?” Kremy asks as he turns back to Seren, kneeling in front of her.

Seren, who had been warned by Gideon time and time and time again about how it will hurt, rolls her eyes at Kremy, some of her excitement washing away and quickly replaced by an annoyed worry that Kremy will be just as bad as Gideon. “Duh.” She says hotly, giving more of an attitude than she had meant in her annoyed state.

Kremy’s eyes squint as he points that same clawed finger at her, “Do. Not.” He says, his tone stern and no nonsense, “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the whining and the attitude. I’m helpin’ ya out. Act like I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for ya.” Kremy admonishes her, his annoyance finally reaching its peak.

Seren immediately drops again, her eyes downcast and her shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Kremy.. Thank you for helping me out…” She says, her hands moving into her lap and fiddling with her fingers. Kremy sighs, finally falling to the other side of that peak.

“Gid, gimmie the earrings.” Kremy says, softening up his tone then.

Gideon can’t even really be annoyed at Kremy as he pulls the box out of his pocket. Gideon understands how overstimulated Kremy can get sometimes. Seren is a loud and excitable child and Gideon can be just as excitable if he isn’t careful. Kremy can’t always exactly help it when he snaps, just like Seren can’t help that she’s a child who hasn’t exactly learned to control her volume yet.

Gideon thinks about how far Kremy has come in little over a year with Seren. Kremy used to be unable to go ten minutes with Seren’s boisterous chatter when she was overly excited, and now Kremy went a whole hour of their annoying antics before he snapped. Gideon can’t be annoyed with Kremy after he’s made such strides in his progress.

Gideon places the earring box on the table and watches how Kremy turns back to Seren once more.

“Ser..” Kremy says, his tone softening up a even more, “Ser, look at me sweetie.”

Seren looks up again, hope in her eyes. Kremy reaches forward with his free hand and takes her earlobe in his fingers. The other hand with the needle comes into her view and her eyes snap towards it, now going wide. Her shoulders tense, her mouth parting slightly in worry-

“Look at me, doll, not the needle.” Kremy says, getting Seren’s eyes back on his face. “Say… I don’t really remember what those earrings looked like.” He says after a moment.

Seren’s eyebrows knit together. “How could you forget, Kremy? They’s the prettiest earrings ever. They’re silver and got- OW!” She yelps, almost jerking her head back, but Kremy’s steady and gentle hands keep her in place.

Gideon nearly leaps through the fucking ceiling. Her pained cry wrenches his heart and makes his skin crawl. Gideon is more than sure if it wasn’t Kremy doing this, he’d have killed the person making his daughter cry like that in an instant. Instead, his hands clench at his sides, jaw tightening as he watches the scene in front of him.

“Take a deep breath doll.” He says quickly, “They’re silver? What else do they look like?” Kremy goes on as he distracts her, moving quickly as he pulls said earring from the box before slipping it through the needle hole.

Tears pool in Seren’s eyes, her lip quivering, “Sil-Silver with-with red g-gems…” She goes on, fighting back her tears and trying to stay strong. Her eyes flick to the needle again as it goes for her second ear, but without prompting she quickly fixes her eyes back onto Kremy’s face. “They-They’re pre-pretty and, and dangly and- ow! Ow!” She again cries out, but softer this time, knowing to expect the pain and what it feels like. She again tries to get away from Kremy but his hands keep her steady once more.

“There. Just about done babydoll. You’re almost finished, okay? You’re doin’ great.” Kremy’s voice is sweet and kind, hands gentle as he slips the second earring into its hole. “And done! All done!”

Kremy rests a hand on the side of Seren’s face gently, his scales smooth and almost cold on her skin as she leans into the touch. He turns her head to the side a bit before turning it the other way, a smile breaking onto his face. “Now look at you! Now ya got real sparkles on ya, princess.”

Kremy takes his hand back and stuffs it into his suit jacket pocket before pulling out his compact mirror. He flips it open before turning it to Seren.

Seren’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears and wonderment as she looks at herself in the little mirror. She reaches out slightly shaky hands and takes it for a better look. She turns her head side to side, eyeing the way the earrings swish back and forth, enjoying the slight tickle on her face where they brush up against her when she moves. A few tears roll down her cheeks as she grins brighter than the sun.

“I look so pretty.” She says, kicking her feet lightly. “They tickle!” She goes on, turning her head side to side quickly, the earrings flopping haphazardly. Kremy can’t help but to laugh a bit, reaching forward and grabbing the top of her head to stop her.

“Don’t do that. They’ll fly out and you’ll lose em.” He warns her, making her eyes blow wide and reach up to touch the earrings to make sure they’re secure. Kremy drops his hand from the top of her head, wiping the tears from his face before he stands up.

“Welp. Was it worth it, kid?” Kremy asks, watching as she hops up out of her chair. She claps the compact mirror closed and holds it up to Kremy,

“Yeah! Really worth it! Thank you so much Kremy!” She says, wrapping herself around Kremy in a tight hug after he’d taken the mirror back.

Gideon watches as Kremy barely hesitates to hug her back this time. It’s almost immediately the way Kremy’s arm goes to wrap around her, even pulling her in closer as he does so. Seren fully leans into Kremy, a giant smile overtaking her expression.

A moment later however, Seren pulls back from Kremy before she runs off to the attached bathroom to their inn room to look at herself in the big mirror, another quick, “Thanks Krem!” before she disappears inside.

Kremy watches her go, a look of fondness overtaking him.

“Thanks, pal…” Gideon says, placing a hand on Kremy’s shoulder. From the side, he can see the way Kremy’s expression softens up just a bit more before his own hand moves to rest over Gideons.

“Don’t mention it, Gid.”

————————————

I say little story like this shit isn’t over 2000 words 😭

Also I didn’t beta read this or even put it in Grammarly so I apologize if it’s not written very well. I’m very tired and finished this 30 minutes before I gotta leave the house 😂😭

[cumscrotesailboat]

I finished Citrus, the "infamous" GL that i keep hearing about and as far as i've seen, its only the anime thats insanely weird. The manga is super different from the anime adaptation. There's a lot to critique with this series BUT the argument i hear saying that it caters primarily to men is not quite accurate. It was made by a sapphic woman, of which the story was inspired by a real experience she had, published by a company that caters to QUEER women. It certainly wasn't made with men in mind.

(Also, spoiler at the bottom if you have plans on reading it)

With that out of the way, the "incest" subplot of the series felt like it had little significance to the narrative of the story. The only time it was being mentioned was the Blonde MC's inner dialogue about how she can't possibly be with the Black haired MC because they're sister and that's it. At the end, their parents agreed to not get married so the two can legally be married. There was no push back on the parents or anyone they knew, it was just there. I can't tell what the author's purpose with it is. In another wlw series i read, the incest subplot was there to shut down the argument "If same-sex love is ok, then that should mean incest love is ok too bcs it doesnt affect anyone right?", but in here I can't be sure if its for drama or if its for the "spicy forbidden love awoogawooga" japanese anime fans seem to love. Personally, i think its the former. It's drama but very weak drama. I don't wanna write off the latter that fast either. Sapphic women can get weird with incest fantasies too. I personally am not into it bcs its incest, crazy take i know, but sure ig? This one I don't really care since it had such little effect on the narrative that you can just ignore it or even delude yourself with thinking it wasn't there at all and your understanding of the series would still be fine.

For the sexual assaults in the early chapters. I dont fucking know man, why did she do that? I mean, we know why, she was trying to push the Blonde MC away as seen in the letter but uhh.. 🤷🤷🤷? Sexual misconducts, harrassment, and assault just makes me feel uncomfortable so this is the one I dont like with the series at all. To give meaning to it (just bcs i dont wanna gloss over it that fast), the black haired MC did that as an impulsive act of selfishness, isolation, and fear of companionship. Early chapters has her shown as shackled by her family's legacy so she was cold and also fucked up.

Another thing are the supporting characters, there's this middle schooler that just fucking REEKS of trauma and the series just doesn't address that. It's so funny bcs you are 13 girl, don't talk as if you're in that grown up world you keep talking about. They're all great tho, even if they felt flat. One thing i keep noticing with nowadays consumption of literary is that every character has to be well-rounded, no it doesn't! its fine if the main cast are the only rounded ones! but yeah, that middle schooler has to be stopped. Please author, what the fuck is wrong with that kid😭☠️

Overall, its really not as bad as its reputation precedes it to be. Its weird yeah but not as weird as the majority of people say it to be. Its fluffy and drama and it definitely wasn't made for men. It's really whatever and only got its reputation bcs of that weird ass anime adaptation thats trying to cater to those freak ass "otakus". Saying that word makes me feel disgusted, jesus christ. I have mixed feelings if its a series I'd recommend bcs there are other series that are better but what i'm sure is its an okay read. I'm big to romance and drama and this series has that. It didn't make me cry but it made me feel tense and sad for the characters, and in my book thats a successful attempt at those genre.

My only gripe with it really is the unnecessary incest and SA, thats why its getting a low score for me. Everything else was fine

anw balls

[allzelemonz]

Dirty Rat: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’, ‘man’, and ‘mister’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, Language Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, unestablished relationship, handjob, sex in water, sex in a lake, washing/bath, mild dirty talk Summary: Some of the men in camp don’t listen when Miss Grimshaw tells them to bathe. She asks you for some help in making sure they are somewhat clean.

Helping Pearson is a roulette. Whoever gets stuck with it is the unlucky one that has to listen to him tell his Navy stories and gripe about how the vegetables need to be cut evenly. Today that is you and you are closer to cutting his fingers off than ever before. It seems that no matter how you do it, it’s wrong to the old sailor. He takes pride in his work, nothing wrong with that, but it’s getting on your nerves when coupled with the heat of the day and the looming threat of Pinkertons. So when you’re done, you walk away fast.

“Mister, could I have a moment of your time.” Miss Grimshaw stops you before you get very far.

You take a breath, not wanting to lose your temper in front of the woman that keeps everyone’s shit together. “Yes, Miss Grimshaw. You need something?”

“Sorry to disturb you.” She folds her hand in front of her. “I was hoping you could speak to a few of the men for me.”

Your face twists into confusion. “Why?”

“They tend to listen to a man better than a woman it seems.” She sighs. “They are gettin’ too filthy to stand. They need baths and you seem to manage to wash yourself well enough.”

“You want me to handle that?” You ask.

“Just a few ‘a the boys that I missed.” She waves her hand dismissively. “The more stubborn ones.”

“Who are the stubborn ones?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

“Mister Macguire, Mister Marston, and Mister Bell.”

You can’t help but laugh a little. “Sean? I might be able to get Sean, but John and Micah?”

“I can only mother ‘em so much, I think they need another young man to tell ‘em.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Miss Grimshaw.”

“You cannot tell me you wouldn’t appreciate them lookin’ a little more clean.”

A heat comes over you. “Now, Miss, I-”

She raises her hand to silence you. “I expect those boys to be clean by tomorrow, or I will be speakin’ with Dutch about that train job he’s been plannin’. I think he will find that he needs one less gun than he thinks.”

You bite the inside of your mouth, thinking. You like train jobs. Everyone likes train jobs. “Fine.” You say. “I will speak with them, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Clean.” She warns. “By tomorrow.”

She walks off towards the campfire, leaving you to wonder how to go about this. You decide to start with Sean, he’ll be the easiest to convince when you remind him that people are much more likely to be attracted to him when he’s clean. It works, the beers help. He wastes no time and jumps straight into the lake, clothes and all. No soap, but better than nothing. John is next. After some deliberation you opt to trick him, leading him to the lake with a story about a baby-eating monster that only a gullible John would believe before pushing him in and throwing him a bar of Strauss’ homemade soap. He tries to leave, but you manage to push him back into the water until he stays put and sheds some of his clothes to clean himself. You leave him be, asking Abigail to keep an eye on him. She gladly does.

Lastly is Micah. He is a generally greasy man, but you can see what Miss Grimshaw means when you catch him by the scout fire. His hair is so dirty that it looks brown rather than the usual blond and you can barely make out the ever-present dark circles under his eyes compared with the dirt on his face. He doesn’t seem to care as he sits and sharpens his knife like he always does.

“Hello, Mister Bell.” You say, sitting across the fire.

He mumbles your name in greeting, focus still on his knife.

“I will be truthful with you.” You sigh. “Miss Grimshaw is making me convince a few of the men to bathe.”

He looks up at you, peering from under his hat. He’s stopped sharpening the knife and sits very still. You feel the silent threat he puts in the air and it sends a shiver up your spine.

“She’s gonna make Dutch take me off the train job if you don’t.” You take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m usually the one covering you, you wanna get shot?”

Micah shakes his head, chuckling darkly. “Oh, I’ll do it, cowpoke. If ya come with me.”

Confusion comes over your face. “What?”

Micah puts his knife and sharpener away, leaning forward in his seat. “Ya heard me.”

The smirk on his face is wicked and his face is lit up by the fire in an accentuating glow. Your muscles are tense and your stare fixes itself on the fire. You really want to go on this train job and if Miss Grimshaw gets far enough into Dutch’s ear, you’ll never have a chance. Micah is an asshole, a sleazy one at that, especially now. But damn if he’s not attractive, damn if seeing him spin his guns around doesn’t make something pool in the pit of your stomach.

“Fine.” You nod, coughing to hide the slight waver in your voice. “Fine.”

Micah stands, the glow from the fire leaving his face as he walks towards the lake. “Come on then, cowpoke.”

You feel the hitch in your breath and the tightness in your stomach as the details hit you. Micah, lake, bath, general lack of at least a few articles of clothing. You stand, legs a little shaky, and follow Micah down to the lake. It’s a spot most people use for bathing because it’s out mostly out of sight from camp but not so far away that you might be caught off guard by outsiders and there’s not so many fish.

Micah stops at the shoreline, his hands resting on his gun belt and his eyes raking over you. “You first.”

You meet his eyes for a second, unable to hold it with the embarrassment. You look out to the water and shake your head. “It’s you that needs it.”

“You ain’t got the power here, cowpoke.” Micah says, rocking on his feet. “I ain’t doin’ anything without a little show for my troubles.”

Shivers fill your body when you watch his eyes roam over it. It’s not a bad shiver, but not quite a good one. Micah is unnerving, handsome, but unnerving. You take strained breaths, working up some nerve. “I’m not putting on a show.”

Micah walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. “What if I help ya?”

He reaches out and knocks your hat off of your head. It falls behind you on the ground with a soft thump. Micah returns his hand to his belt and stands relaxed, waiting for an answer. Your eyes jump around as you think, then you nod and it takes Micah less than a second to step in and bring his hands up to unbutton your shirt. You stand still, heart beating so much you’re surprised he can’t feel it. When his fingers brush against your bare skin you can’t help but to look up at his face. He’s focused, watching every inch of skin he reveals in taking off your clothes.

Micah glances up and catches your eyes, that wicked smirk coming back to his face. “I ain’t the only one wantin’ this, am I?” He leans in close enough to whisper. “I seen you stare, cowpoke. Ain’t nothing ta be ashamed of.”

He dips his head and presses a featherlight kiss to your neck that makes the shivers return in greater numbers. Your hands timidly go to his shirt, undoing the buttons as he presses more kisses along your neck. It’s not long before Micah fumbles with the fastening of his pants, the last thing separating you. You dig the soap out of your pocket as he does. When you turn to face him you let your eyes run over every inch that you’ve never seen. He seems to be doing the same with you as he comes close and takes the soap from your hand. You follow him to the lake, still feeling the intense beat of your heart as the water reaches above your waist.

“Do what ya came here ta do, cowpoke.” Micah whispers, pressing the soap back into your hand.

You hold the soap in your hand for a second, staring at it, still baffled by what exactly is happening. Micah traces his hand over your bicep, watching you closely. You slowly press the soap in your hand, getting enough of it to use. Then you start with his hair, trying not to look at his face because your knees might give out if you do. You use your hands to scoop water over his head and scrub the dirt out. He watches your every move, only closing his eyes momentarily to avoid the soap. You scrub until his hair looks blond again, then move to his face. You’re less nervous now, having the task to distract you from the other details. Micah’s face is what you’d expect of an experienced gunslinger. He has deep scars and years of wear and tear that fail to overshadow his handsome features. You pay close attention to his facial hair, making sure it’s just as free of dirt and returns to the same blond as the hair on his head.

Micah reaches up and grabs your wrist, making you freeze as you remember the details. He moves your hand down, making room for him to lean in and press his lips to yours. His freshly cleaned mustache brushes against your skin and he comes closer, pressing his body against yours. Your dick twitches when you feel his own brush against it. Micah’s hand reaches down between you, wrapping his hand around you.

“Ya better finish yer job before I’m done.” He whispers against your lips as his hand gives a gentle squeeze.

You have to lean on him to stay standing when he starts, running his thumb over the tip. Once he starts a slow pace you’re able to gather a single thought. You grip the soap bar as if your life depends on it and straighten up. You run the soap over his chest, trying to focus on getting the dirt off. Micah’s hand picks up the pace and he chuckles when you stumble a bit, leaning on him again for support. A sound escapes your mouth and you bury your face in his shoulder to stop from making any more.

“Look at ya, comin’ undone this easy.” He whispers. “How many times have you thought about this, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face further into his neck as he adds a slight twist to his motions.

Micah chuckles darkly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I bat ya think about it every night, huh, cowpoke.”

“Micah.” You breathe against his skin. “Shit, Micah.”

He continues his motions as you release into the water, only stopping when your breathing evens out again. The soap in your hand is crushed, deep indents where your fingers are with very little left to the bar. Micah holds you steady for a moment before he takes it from you.

“Go get dressed.” He whispers, running a hand down your back. “I ain’t done.”

He lightly pushes you back and you stand on your own, watching him run the soap over himself for a moment before you follow his instructions and return to the shore. Your legs are shaky as you gather your things, your pants are particularly hard to pull on. You ignore the splashing sounds as Micah comes out of the water and reaches for his clothes. Your hands fumble with your gun belt when he comes up behind you. He turns you around and fastens it for you, already fully dressed.

“I been waitin’ fer this, cowpoke.” He says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Ya ain’t disappointed so far.”

He reaches down and grabs your hat from the ground. His other hand grips at the fabric of your shirt and pulls you along, walking towards your tent. Your legs are willed by the promise of what’s to come despite the shakiness you still feel in every step. Not only did you complete Miss Grimshaw’s task, you got much more than you thought you would.

[splatcat64]

i had a really long convo with my friends about this but it really seriously feels like ppl get rhys and fionas characterization switched up HARD. this is bc of the u choose the path thing but also a heavy hand in the misogyny and racism (and general way ppl tend to approach pandorans due to being effected by how jack talked about them . LOL) fiona is such a sweetheart whos working her hardest to protect the people she loves + imo shes the one who helped vaughn grow into someone who adores pandora as well. it makes me blow up. i have a few songs that have been making me go nuts about her . hai i got excited sorry

NOOO DON’T APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING EXCITED I totally get it my god,,, this blog is becoming so tales centric I’m sorry not sorry here we go. If you haven’t seen tales and want to be mindful of light spoilers. ⚠️

This has been talked about on my side a bit but I tooootally agree, Both of their characterization gets switched up BAD and it’s absolutely insane, both Fiona and Rhys are good people, but flawed. Flawed, but good people, and it gets constantly jumbled around in the fandom. I feel like a lot of people have a really hard time grasping that “choose ur own adventure” protags still have a core personality set, especially telltale. I always use Lee TWGD as an example, because sure you can portray him as either very very confrontational, or more soft spoken and sweet, but in the end of th edgy he still killed someone. In the end of the day he still ALWAYS cares about Clem. It’s not any different for those two idiots, they still have their respective arcs and the such.

I feel like Fiona gets a lot of shit specifically BECAUSE she’s snarky and she. speaks her mind. And god forbid a POC/Black coded woman do ANYTHING. Jack really messed up ppls views on Pandorans but the look into Sasha and Fi’s life is literally just more, HEY, they’re people!! Maybe don’t listen to the GENOCIDAAAAL [big arrows pointing to the word] MANIAC. It’s thrown right at your face. People take wtv the fuck Jack says way to seriously when he lies. So much. All the time. And I don’t get why no one takes it with a pile of salt constantly. When really she does just have a heart of gold, most of her being mean is literally just playful banter like hello. Sasha’s meaner than her by a mile but Fi still gets slaaandered for it. And even tho Sasha does have her really mean moments I will defend her to the grave with strangers bcus “hating her” without a valid reason gets veeerry racy really quick and as a black person it really does rub me the wrong way sometimes. So much mischaracterization everywhere. It’s a weird mix of a patriarchal, misogynistic, racist deal with EVERY character in The Group and I’m just… how do you manage to mischaracterize everybody from a game that’s all story.

And the point I made in a post somewhere about how Rhys is written differently than a LOT of men in borderlands and ppl have ran with it and decided hey this guy actually sucks. Or hey haha this guy can’t do anything. He’s completely out of his element on Pandora, of course he’s stumbling somewhat but bro is brave as hell for that shit. He’s a completely capable dude, yes he cares about Fiona and Sasha and Vaughn. Yes they care about him. I feel like people also get it twisted because of Fiona and Rhys in the intros, but people gotta remember that they’re acting like that because the game was episodic and we weren’t rlly allowed to know that they’re super buddy buddy. That’s one gripe I have w the game is that they made Fiona seem like she HATED his ass in some of the future settings in the beginning of episodes and people took it way too literally. Please I beg they’re besties,,, you’ve never boxed with a bestie before??? Either way it’s obvious that it’s blown out of proportion especially after Rhys’ whole arc concludes. You’re supposed to be like oooh he’s like that cause we couldn’t know. You look at Fi and you’re supposed to like daaamn she really cares about him/them they were all just split apart after extremely traumatic events. [I’m gonna stop here with this point cause it’s starting to be a run on but people do not talk enough about how traumatic both Helios’ crash, the wreck, and Gortys’ first fight was for all of them.]

I’ve talked extensively with a friend about this too but Tales had a looot of budget issues during its making cause of Telltale nuking itself, and the game was meant to have more time. ALL of them were!!! I always think about maybe if they all got more time they’d be treated this way less. But yknow,, whatever I guess.

AND THE VAUGHN THING UR SO CORRECT GOD. I think she really help him crawl out of his shell for a lack of a better term, both the sisters tbh I feel like they’re a very rare and cute friendship pairing and I need to see more of Sasha daring him to do shit like in the Chimera dome. They all care sooo deeply for each other and people even manage to miss that like god. One of Rhys’ core traits if you don’t make him abysmally evil is loyalty. LOYALTY. Fiona hasn’t had many, hell if any friends since tales started, She is SUCH a caring person of course she’s gonna ride or die for her friends. Like that one scene on Helios where Rhys can ask her not to leave, And she’s like “If I wanted to leave, I would’ve done it a looong time ago.” There’s so many points in the game I could,d bring up that show how great all of them are, Fiona, after knowing him for not too long at all, tries to convince Vaughn to be brave, and that he can survive Bossanova’s race. Yes, she had to do that so they wouldn’t die, but she went out of her way to say it in a way that was reassuring enough. That’s sweet. If she didn’t care about them she wouldn’t have played cards on the roof with Rhys, or play bunkers and badasses with the boys, or I don’t know, let them LIVE IN WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY HER HOUSE FOR A YEAR. /ref ep.3 of tales. I’m being dramatic, of course there are factors that didn’t let her kick them out. But, my point stands.

That wasn’t meaaan that was playful reassurance, she’s telling him she’s THERE FOR HIM. They all care sooosososo much. If none of the, cared about each other, any “betrayal” wouldn’t mean that much. People get hurt like that because of their bonds and yes, YES I’m being opinionated but they’re like the found family ever, god. Fiona is fucking amazing and she wouldn’t put up with anyone if she didn’t either have to, or care, and after a certain point it’s very obvious that it’s not the first one.

TLDR; Tales is great, stan Fiona, stan Rhys, Stan Sasha and Vaughn,,, my glorious queens and kings. Forgive any typos or grammar I wrote this on a passionate whim,

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

I want to start by saying I LOVE your fanfic and the amount of lore you’ve built around everything, it’s just such an interesting world to experience and you’ve done an amazing job building it. Genuinely in my top three fanfics I’ve read across any fandoms I’ve been in!

IMPORTANT NOTE:

This discusses educational discussion of women’s undergarments in the context of fashion history, just in case you aren’t comfortable with it!

In chapter 29 I noticed one line that bugged me a little, so apologies for the LONG explanation here about corsets— if you already know about their actual history and not the hollywood misrepresentation of them feel free to ignore this, I just thought this could help in the future with the ball chapter especially!

““Ha,” she grinned, pulling herself upwards before she turned back to the star. “You think this is outlandish? You should see what some ladies are capable of doing while wearing a corset!”

“A corset?” he repeated.

“Yeah, it’s like a cosmetic thing that came straight outta hell, because no one down there wanted it, so now we on earth have to deal with it. “”

To start- corsets as a whole shouldn’t be demonized as much as they are in popular media since they were quite literally just the old version of bra’s— just like how there are uncomfortable ones and comfortable ones today, there were back then. I’m less here about historical accuracy but realism, because working class women wore corsets daily and they were an essential part of the everyday clothing they wore!

More accurately in this time period it would be called ‘a pair of bodies’ (later on shortened to bodice) and should have been comfortable unless poorly made and tailored. An uncomfortable corset means one of two things, it was poorly tailored like I mentioned before or the corset has been tight laced. Tight lacing only became popular in the early 1800’s and would be the beginning of corset demonization. Doctors would claim organs were being moved and fertility was being damaged (‘studies’ have been made but also debunked) hence the quickly descending popularity of them and the invention of the bra!

To put it into perspective, modern day translation would go like this:

“Ha,” she grinned, pulling herself upwards before she turned back to the star. “You think this is outlandish? You should see what some ladies are capable of doing while wearing a bra!”

(Which by the way, that’s so real, I hate mine so much)

I feel like it’s completely in character for your Asha to have a gripe with corsets, which is why I wasn’t sure if this wasn’t an intentional choice or not. Asha definitely seems like the type to strictly wear working corsets and avoid tight lacing ones like the plague.

Quick personal suggestion, since I noticed asha’s victory dress being very-ballgown like, It’s likely she’d opt for a corset of her own design similar to an Edwardian corset, which created an hourglass design not by cinching in the waist to extremes but adding volume at the hips (hip pads) instead. Ideally, an everyday corset should feel like a tight hug, not a torture machine.

Fun fact: It wasn’t uncommon for men to wear corsets as well! They were good for hiding ‘beer bellies’.

If you prefer visual learning, here’s a really engaging video that goes over the basic myths: https://youtu.be/LWYG5sQp0-E?si=LugoryF2eR_Dja83

Highly encourage you to look further into it because fashion history is so interesting and deeply reflects the political standings of each era.

Tldr: Just like modern bra’s have restricting pushup bras and comfy grandma bra’s corsets had comfy ones and tight lace ones. Asha likely would be wearing a corset too :D

It’s just a personal thing I’m very passionate about, and although im not a fashion historian I hope I gave you a general idea of what corsets are actually like if you didn’t know already 🙏

Seriously looking forward to the future chapters, this fic is a literal piece of art <3

First of all- thank you! I appreciate it!

Also, I did not know that much about corsets, (nor did I know that men actually wore them to hide 'beer bellies' that's too funny) so this was a learning experience to me! I never knew that they were actually comfortable- ((I'll be sure to look into it more!))

Admittedly, I do fine the fashion aspect to be a bit challenging because it's trying to balance the whole- medieval time period fashion vs the star fashion that you see in Asha's victory dress- along with some other things, but I will definitely go back and edit that line in chapter 29 when finished!

[destinyc1020]

Okayyyy....So, I FINALLY got around to watching this "Don't Worry Darling" movie a few nights ago lol. Everyone kept saying how HORRIBLE the film was, and how bad Harry's acting was in it lol, so I'm sorry, but my curiosity just got the better of me and I HAD to watch it and see for myself. 😅

My Thoughts:

The Good:

I LOVE films that have a little bit of mystery like this...I love trying to figure out and guess what's really going on in a film, so this one was right up my alley.

Right off the bat, I kind of already suspected that what I was seeing was not what was real. I even questioned if they were really in that time period right off the bat. Like, something just seemed waaay too "perfect" about that little town. Immediately, I found myself thinking:

"This film reminds me of 'The Stepford Wives' and the 'Surrogates' movies". If any of you have seen either of those films, then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

Can I just say? I love Florence as an actress. Everything I've seen her in so far has been great acting by her. She does an American accent fairly convincingly well too... I didn't pick up on any "slip-ups" like I usually do when most foreigners fake American accents for films lol. 😅 I can't wait to see her in "Dune: Part 2"!

Also...LOVED seeing Chris Pine as a villain in this! And can I just say?? He was ZADDY! LOL 🤣 Something about him in this film was doing things to me lol.

Oh...and I LOVE LOVE LOVED the costumes, and that house! I love styles and fashion from the 1950s and 1960s. Everyone just always looked so classy and put together. People really took pride in how they looked back then lol. I loved vintage styles honestly. 😊

That home was to die for too...loved the architecture.

The Bad:

Honestly, the main gripe I had with this film was that there were just SO many plot holes! 🥴 It was annoying! Like, the movie teases you and teases you, and you're hanging on along for the ride, and then.... It just.... LEAVES you HANGING with sooo many UNanswered questions at the end! 😤

What was up with the airplane crashing in the distance that Florence's character saw?? 🥴

What was up with the mini little earthquakes that everyone was just used to? Was it trains? Was it leakage from the "real life"?

Why did Olivia's character know what was up from the get-go? Who told her? How did she find out? Did she ALWAYS know?

Why does banging your head against the glass cause you to get out of the VR realm?

How did Harry's character get his wife to be able to undergo the VR life? Was he drugging her? Were ALL of these husbands drugging their wives? Were some of these dudes just choosing random women to be their VR wives?? Like, what on earth?

When did Chris Pine's wife know that he was a fraud?? Like, was she always suspecting? OR did that ONE phone convo that she over heard do something to her?

Who were the men in red jackets? Were they all under VR simulation as well?

Why does killing you in the VIRTUAL WORLD kill you in the REAL WORLD, when everything that's going on is just FAKE anyway?? 🥴 That was the BIGGEST mystery to me lol. Didn't make sense AT all.

You almost felt like you watched the entire movie for no good reason when none of these questions were answered lol. I can see why so many people didn't like this movie.

OVERALL:

Overall, I didn't HATE the movie. The movie actually started off very promising in fact! I actually didn't even mind Harry's acting? I mean, he's not really an "actor", so for a singer trying to act, I actually didn't think he did THAT bad y'all lol. 😄 And as Olivia's film debut (is this her first directorial film?) it actually wasn't THAT bad.

I just hated all of the plot holes!

I also felt like actress Kiki Layne was SEVERELY UNDERused in this movie. I would have liked to have seen how she was before she became suspicious. I was actually interested in her storyline as well, but they kind of treated her character as an afterthought.

Anyway...I think people overexaggerated though how much they hated this movie. It wasn't that bad honestly. It was just something fun to watch on a Friday night while eating my dinner lol.

But boy did this movie have plot holes galore! 🤣 It didn't have to end so abruptly either.

Too bad this movie had so much drama going on with the cast lol 😆 It didn't get such a great press tour due to all the drama going on lol. 👀