#hollywood can burn for all I care

[ultramaga]

@theliterarywolf  “I don’t care about the Writers’ Strike because a few of the shows I watched had shitty episodes” Holy cow, a few? I WISH IT WAS JUST A FEW. It’s more like a few shows and movies exist now that aren’t shitty, and they are vilified by the Leftists on this strike.

Hell, I remember the denunciations Alita got! And the film maker himself was pretty far left. They just hated the fact it wasn’t woke ENOUGH.

“ no Starbucks employee should get paid ...because their quality has tanked in the past few years.” Exactly. They should be fired, and replaced with people who can do the job. Or the franchise should fold, because it no longer knows how to make fucking coffee.

“ or treated like a human being “ Where the fuck are you getting that from? I would call it a strawman, but it’s more like a straw exo-planet. It’s just not even in the same solar system as the arguments brought up against the strike. Ok, for the record, every human should be treated as a human. NOBODY IS ENTITLED TO MONEY. You are not entitled to get money for shitty products. Hollywood has crapped out turds, and customers have refused to pay. If you don’t like the Hollywood system, DON’T WORK FOR THEM. Write a book, or stack shelves, or work for uber. But don’t work for them if they refuse to pay what you think you are worth. But here’s the kicker - maybe you aren’t worth what you think you are. If no employer will pay you a million dollars a minute, you are not oppressed, you are delusional. @whistleinthegraveyard “ people don’t realize the connection between overworked underpayed writers being unable to put out good work “ We can hear these writers. All day long. On twitter. Moaning about how everyone outside the Leftist bubble is a Qanon white supremacist Nazi deserving only of death. Hell, this hit the comic book industry a long time ago. The writers spent all day long tweeting instead of working, and then complained that they were expected to meet guidelines. I was there when Dan Slott explained to me that the purpose of Leftism was to erase the white people in all media. The goal of the movement was the total eradication of those it hates - the whites, the men, the straights and so on.  And yes, he had no problem with that. Leftists do not have the capacity to think rationally or see the problem with advocating the genocide of your own demographic. And what garbage do we see pumped out daily? These are the dwarves of german myth, apparently

Don’t forget Coal Black herself. 

Just like they did with Ariel and countless other movies. And just like those movies, the writers have come out and said they eliminating the troublesome heterosexuality, because [STRONG FEMALE PROTAGONIST] don’t need no man. Yep, she saves herself because she is awesome and just needed to realise it.

Whoops, sorry, that one is actually not bad.

KNEEEEL BEFORE ME, WORTHLESS MAN-THING! When I think of Hollywood, I think of Brie Larson explaining how movies from Hollywood WEREN’T MADE FOR YOUUUU.

Ok, but why the fuck do you still expect our money? How the fuck do you expect to get paid, if nobody is buying tickets to movies that are nothing but racist, sexist propaganda? Hell, you know what I wanted to see?

Barnie looked great! Until the makers tweeted how it would all be about how useless males are, and how Barbie don’ need no man. Fuck that noise. Every single thing Hollywood does is just a better made version of Nazi propaganda, with a different target. It exists to spew hatred- not to entertain. With exceptions - 

Low budget films that could easily still be made if Hollywood choked to death on the Hunter Biden cocaine stash. Films that are completely loathed and vilified by Hollywood’s Leftists. https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/joker-criticism-fallout-891081/ “ Many claim the film is a romanticization of incel culture. “ Yes, Leftists did. Note that Rolling Stone didn’t have the balls to source the claims. Because what it showed was endless hordes of hacks desperately trying to sabotage one of the few films people actually LIKED.

"I don't care about the Writers' Strike because a few of the shows I watched had shitty episodes"

Under that same logic, no Starbucks employee should get paid or treated like a human being because their quality has tanked in the past few years.

Under that same logic, no nurse should get paid or treated like a human being because of the few who were being obnoxious on TikTok during the Pandemic.

Under that same logic, no one working for an ISP (be it Customer Service or maintenance) should get paid or treated like a human being because of shitty response times.

If you can't understand why that logic is faulty as hell, then could you just admit that you don't see writers as human beings and move along?

[mydr3aminvi0let]

can i be mean. the music industry is running out of ideas so badd. chappel roan sabrina carpenter charli xcx were never meant to be this famous they're just blowing up anybody now. a boring c list copycat disney star everyone forgot about til she started paying spotify to push her music on everyone, a guadey tacky niche chick who doesn't even want fame who was meant to play gay bars (as she's gay) until she has her own little community shes comfortable with and earns stardom there BECAUSE THATS WHAT SHE WANTED TO DO, and a washed up autotune pop girly whos been sidelining at coachella for her biggest show the past 10 years? this is all we got??

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

WE NEED A SERIES ABOUT HOW SKZ ARE LIKE WHEN THEY'RE INTERESTED IN SOMEONE

i just read leeknow's version and I'm so interested! please consider making it a series 💖

Ooooooooh- okay okay!!!

This anon ask is what got the most popular views in my vote so welcome to the second post of March!!!

What a beautiful way to start the autumn season :)

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken seriously, this is for funsies.

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 '𝐅𝐚𝐧��𝐲' 𝐘𝐨𝐮?

Bang Chan:

His Libra Moon/Mercury and Scorpio Venus means you have to be friends with him for him to develop a crush on you, he might think you're pretty from the moment he sees you but he has to build a rapport and establish a good 'vibe' before he even thinks about dating you.

Chris would be more giggly and physically affectionate than usual, he'd give you more compliments than he does his other friends...might even be more teasing or playful towards you.

He honestly seems like the type of man that would ask you out over Messenger but I hope he would take the time to confess his feelings to you in person.

'So...we've been friends for a while right? And I think you know that I like you more than a friend...so would you want to be something that's more than friends?'

Lee Know:

Lee Know's Sagittarius Moon/Scorpio Mercury and Venus indicates a slow...SLOW burn type of dynamic where he could be crushing on you for MONTHS and you wouldn't even notice.

The type to scrawl through your social media but would not even utter a single confession to your face until he can't take it anymore and he has to spill.

He would prefer to make the first move so he can think of a hundred different ways of how the scenario could go, he would put effort into showing care for you and then act nonchalant about it.

Lee Know is the type to pay for your coffee every time you're together and then act like it's a gesture he'd do for anyone (which we know he wouldn't).

'You don't know I like you??? I have liked you for months now, I bought you coffee all the time, I thought I was being obvious'

Seo Changbin:

Changbin's Virgo Venus and Leo Moon with Cancer Mercury also indicates he would probably show his attraction to you in an indirect manner because Virgo Venuses love to enjoy showing their attraction to you in the most quietly 'detailed' way.

Is the type to ask you about your workout routine or your favourite places to eat, he's also the type to keep a list in his phone of things you enjoy so he can ask about them later.

'So...you mentioned how you like guys that work out right? Does that mean you would like me when I workout?'

Hwang Hyunjin:

Hyunjin's Pisces Venus/ Virgo Moon (maybe)/Aries Mars indicates a man who's a true romantic and an impulsive one at that.

His fanciness for you would manifest in him being more giggly and physically affectionate with you, maybe casually rubbing your arm or welcoming you with a squishy hug.

Eventually, he'll reach a point where he's so overwhelmed and bursting with feelings...he just HAS to reveal them to you and his confession would make you feel like a Hollywood romantic drama.

'I have to tell you something and so I'm going to say it before I can't...I like you, I REALLY like you and I can't hide it anymore.'

Lee Felix/Han Jisung:

I'm combining these two together because they share both the same Venus and Mars signs with the exception of Han being a Pisces Moon and Felix being an Aries Moon.

They both would be the nervous type and Han might even be more shy with you than he would be with his other friends whilst Felix might be more conversational and maybe even to the point of annoying with how friendly and hyper he might be.

Han would be interested in understanding what your hobbies, values and desires are.

Felix would bring you gifts, offer you suggestions for songs to listen too and try and become invested in the hobbies you're interested in.

( I am watching Law and Order: SVU and I get why people have been invested in Olivia and Elliot for 25 years because they are both fine af!!!)

They would both be nervous and in fact might give you enough hints that they are interested in you to make the first move on them.

Han: 'So...if someone said that I like you...what would you think about that?'

Felix: 'Look...I don't know how else to say this but I...I like you and I don't know what to do about it'.

Kim Seungmin:

Seungmin's Cancer Moon and Virgo Mercury indicates a forthright but gentle way of expressing his feelings for you, sure he's sassy and a bit cheeky but his confession would still be romantic.

But definitely more straightforward than the others, people who have a Virgo Mercury don't like to sugar coat anything.

'Here's your coffee order, did I get it right?...I like you- I really, really like you and I wouldn't mind taking you out- just the two of us...if it's okay with you?'

Yang Jeongin:

Jeongin and him having an Aries Venus WITH a Mercury in Aquarius??? Friends pffft what friends?

Jeongin is too impatient to form a friendship with you and he's probably the type to openly admit his feelings for you in a calm and slightly non-chalant manner- like the true fuckboi he would be.

'You like me noona, I know you do because I want you even more so what are we waiting for? I want you to be mine'

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @hipster-shiz @cherry-0420 @ja3hwa @justaaveragereader @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @wisejudgedragonhairdo @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @starillusion13 @escapetheshark @daddysspecialdollyworld @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @leenaur

[cripplecharacters]

How should you write/draw burn survivors? I know this isn't a drawing blog but I don't know of one that I could ask this question to.

Hello!

I'm not a burn survivor myself, so I'll mostly talk about facial differences/visible disability in general and link some stuff made by burn survivors.

First thing, I think it's important to remember that being a burn survivor changes a lot of things - not only appearance. Very important part is the psychological one, but I'm not a burn survivor so I will just let the resources linked below speak.

From the physical aspect, burns can also come with: chronic pain, limited range of motion due to scarring, tightened skin, problems with regulating temperature, itching, skin irritation, and even different nutritional needs during the initial healing process.

There is also specific everyday care associated with burns - something you basically never see in fiction. That could be things like occupational therapy, physical therapy, skincare (like heavy moisturizing and scar massaging), wearing sunblock, wearing splints, or stretching to prevent contractures or tightness.

There are also different types of burns and they (unsurprisingly) differ from each other - for example, electrical burns have a much higher rate of amputation than any other type. Chemical burns can cause eye issues. A burn caused by a fire in a closed space might result in a brain injury due to the lack of oxygen. A much larger portion of people than you (probably) assume have survived burn injuries as small children, and if they were young enough they might not even remember the event at all, unlike older people who might be very affected by the trauma.

Experiences of a person with 80% body surface burns, a person with quadruple amputations from an electrical burn, a person with a facial burn, and a person burnt very recently will be different from someone who has a 5% body surface 2nd degree burn in a spot that’s usually hidden, who has lived with their burn for a decade - despite them all being burn survivors.

When it comes to more thorough research, I recommend going through Phoenix Society’s and Face Equality International’s websites to learn more about both real burn survivor’s perspectives, and face equality as a social justice topic. I think the 3rd link (see below) puts it very well when talking about burn survivors being represented in fiction:

“Most likely, these characters were not created by someone with lived experience. The result is an increasingly garbled game of telephone [...] To avoid contributing to this false narrative, embrace research as part of the process. Explore interviews, first-person accounts, and articles from reliable sources.”

I personally think that the links below should be mandatory reading for writing not only burn survivors, not only people with facial differences, but visibly disabled people in general - because the treatment we get is often so similar the advice still holds up just fine. And if you don't plan on writing any of these, you should still read them to see how prevalent of a problem ableism in media is.

Lise Deguire's Hey Hollywood - scars don't make you evil.

Face Equality International's International Media Standard on Disfigurement.

Niki Averton's Tips for Writing about Burn Survivors.

The main sentiment that you will read from basically any first-hand source is that if you're writing the burn survivor to be either:

evil (just throw the whole character away)

a guy with the "World's Saddest Most Tragic Backstory Ever and It's So Sad and Tragic" (because he revealed he has a scar)

a helpless victim who is there to be The Helpless Victim

...then you're already doing it wrong and need to make some major changes.

From our blog's reblogs and posts, you might want to look at tips for writing a visibly different/disabled character and tips on drawing people with facial differences. Neither are specific to burn survivors but cover the topic of visible disability and facial differences.

Now for tips on drawing burn survivors (that weren't included in the last link);

Reference real people. 99.9% drawings of burn survivors seem to go through the same "increasingly garbled game of telephone" that Niki Averton mentions with how burn survivors are written, in that the newer the drawing, the less in common it has with how real people with burns look like because people reference from each other and none of them ever think to actually check if their depiction is accurate. If you just google "burn survivor" you will very quickly notice that burn survivors don't have that damn red overlay layer put on top of their skin. It just doesn't look like that, and basic research (aka Google Images search) will tell you that - and still, people color a hand with bright red and think that's how it looks like (it doesn't).

In the same vein, maybe don't just draw an able-bodied person and then put some scarring on top (or maybe do exactly that. No burn scar and no burn survivor is the same, and there are people that fit what I just described... but hear me out for a second). Think about how scars interact with their features - do they have both of their ears? Do they still have all of their hair? Do they only have parts of their eyebrow? Do they have all of their fingers? Can they move the same as before their burn, or are their scars limiting their joints? How did their body react to the post-burn hypermetabolism? Lots to think about. Take into account what type and thickness of burns your character has.

Ditch the mask trope. Just ditch it. There's no need to cover your character's scar from the world unless you as the author think it requires to be hidden, is too scary to show, or other ableist trope that seems to always come up with drawings of visibly disabled people, especially burn survivors. The one exception I will mention is a transparent face orthosis/mask (TFO) that facial burn survivors might wear while awaiting a skin graft early after their injury. But as the name suggests, it's transparent and doesn't work for the "scary facial difference, better cover it up and only reveal it in some hyper dramatic scene!" trope because you can see right through it. (I will also mention that TFOs are a very modern thing. Your medieval burn survivor wouldn't be wearing one).

No "body horror", no "gore" tags or trigger warnings or whatever. That's a human being. If you feel the need to warn your followers before they see a disabled person existing, you're better off not drawing them.

Some last notes;

Throughout this ask I used the term "burn survivor" rather than "burn victim" because that is, to my knowledge, the general community preferred phrase. Individual opinions will differ (because no group is a monolith) but "burn survivor" is generally the safest term to use and probably the best if talking about a fictional character.

Similarly, I used "facial difference" rather than "disfigurement". Just as the above, opinions will differ on what is the best to use but I personally, as someone with facial asymmetry and a cranial nerve disorder, heavily prefer the term "facial difference" over "disfigurement". (I am in this case The Individual Opinion Differing because you can notice that in the links above, facial difference and disfigurement are used interchangeably. The general community uses both, some people have specific preferences. I'm some people). When talking about a fictional character, "facial difference", "visible difference" and "disfigurement" are all probably fine. Just stay away from calling a person "deformed".

mod Sasza

[ultramaga]

@fans4wga  “That’s a full-time job. “ So ... not the one I was talking about. You ignored my argument, which was about the people who do very little per year, and hyper-focussed on the few who get regular work. The trouble with unions is they want the guy who does bugger all to get the pay of the top guy who earns the megabucks for their employer. And we saw that with the whining from the feminists who demanded equal pay when they couldn’t earn the same amount of profit for their employers. The claim of the strike is that AI will replace the actors because they can take a dude, pay him in exchange for his likeness, and puppet that forever more. The trouble is that the strike demands that the dude get paid forever more, despite doing very little work. In no other industry do you get paid for doing nothing.  “ The show requires them to live in Los Angeles “ So it sounds like they should do literally anything else, because the market recognises they already are utterly replaceable and doesn’t pay them much.  There’s no demand for these workers, and an unlimited supply of folks who see the apex and ignore the conditions of the multitudes below.  Those workers are choosing the low pay. They could walk away which would drive up demand - but they don’t. So they are responsible for the consequences. That means they have chosen the same path as the “starving artist” who looks down on the wage slave but doesn’t sully their own hands in the boring grind as others have to do. “ you’re siding with CEOs “ Fuck off, I say Hollywood should burn. Saying that the strike is stupid doesn’t make me automatically side with the people who degraded it to garbage like She-Hulk.  If a Leftist says anything honest, their brain explodes. So they have to present things as a binary - you are for the Leftist workers or the Leftist bosses! Nah, fuck’em both!

None of them are necessary now. They have made themselves obsolete. Attacking customers? Putting out shite like Coal Black and the Seven Completely Normal People? 

Every member of Hollywood could quit tomorrow and the world would be just fine. @ mockingburb Ahh, a totalitarian telling me I like to lick boots. No, fuck off you pinko fascist, you’re not my type. Isn’t there a schoolboy around you’d prefer to molest? “ I work 60 hrs/week, and that’s considered a low amount of work among my peers. Most of my crew coworkers work 70-90 hrs/week and still struggle to make ends meet. “ Ok. Let’s say a buggy whip maker made a thousand buggy whips, and couldn’t sell one. They make nothing. They cry, they scream, but people just don’t pay for their buggy whips.

They could go on strike and maybe paint it as some sort of oppression that they aren’t being paid as much as some successful jeweler, or ... they could move on. Do literally anything else. Because the market doesn’t value you. Your skills are not important. Prove me wrong. Write up your resume, and find a better employer. But your kind never do. You are in the same boat as the shelf stacker - but you don’t see yourself as being like them. You think you are working class, when you are surrounded by people grinding out their lives at boring or dangerous jobs. You think you are better than them, that you don’t have to play by the rules they do.

And when the ordinary folk lost their jobs to automation, what was it the Leftists taunted them with? “Learn to Code”. So, maybe you should take your own fucking advice. Oh wait - coding is being automated too. Outdated occupations that have bitten the dust

Leftists: We only work a few hours per year and its not enough to live off! Strike! Strike! Strike!

Everyone else: Why would you expect your casual gig to pay so much ?

Leftists: HOW DARE YOU EXPECT WE SWEAT LIKE YOU, PEASANTS!

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l seven

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Yours and Joel’s romantic relationship progresses; Ellie confronts you about Joel in stables and encourages you to make a choice; when Joel gets injured while out on patrol, it leads to a confession.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SMUT. unprotected p in v sex (as always, wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation (if you squint), Joel and his big cock can go multiple rounds because i said so, creampie (these two really are just going at it without a care in the world), Joel gets injured (gunshot wound) mentions of blood, MEDICAL INACCURACIES (per my research, the way gunshots wound are treated depends on a number of different factors, but we are going full hollywood here). Luke and Joel have an interaction (that is a warning in itself).

word count: 8.4k

September, 2024

“Oh fuck Joel, please don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st—”

You stop short and bury your face into the blanket underneath you in an effort to muffle the loud moans and cries of pleasure spilling from your lips.

Although the chances of a single soul being out of bed and outside near the barn at this godforsaken hour in the middle of the night are slim, it’s better to be safe than sorry. But keeping the noise to a minimum is a challenging feat when Joel Miller is positioned behind you, fucking you into oblivion.

You can’t hold back, not when his long, thick, calloused fingers are gripping your hips like a vice, digging deeply into the soft flesh as he brings them back, slamming you against him with each thrust of his own. Not when every inch of his throbbing cock is stretching your cunt, filling you up and satiating your unbridled need for it. Your need for Joel.

Over the last few weeks, he’d shown you what real pleasure could—and should—be. Sex isn’t an obligation a wife has to her husband, and a woman deserves to enjoy it as much as a man does. Joel made making you feel good his goal, his priority, and there’s no coming back from it. He is the only man you want to touch you, to satisfy you, now, and for the rest of your life.

You lift yourself off the blanket, your teeth sinking hard into your quivering bottom lip as you desperately drive your hips backwards and meet his thrusts halfway out of your own burning desire to feel more and more of him. Arching your back, you squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the sweet, heavenly sound the backs of your sweat slicked thighs make as they slap roughly against the front of Joel’s over and over and over again.

Joel's grasp on your hips tightens. “Yeah, that’s it baby. Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he pants from behind you. He picks up his pace, delivering smooth strokes that gradually become harder, sloppier as that sweet release draws closer for both of you. But somehow, he’s still careful. Even when he’s lost in the heat of the moment and his mind is in a cloudy haze, he keeps himself grounded, at least enough to make sure he isn’t being too rough. He can’t bear the thought of crossing the line between pleasure and pain, not with the woman he’s grown to care about more than anything. But you make being careful difficult. Pleading and begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, you bring out the primal in him and he can’t say no to you, much less when he’s buried balls deep in your cunt. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Y’take my cock so fuckin’ well, sweetheart—s’good for me, baby. So, so fuckin’ good.”

“Joel,” you moan his name, forgetting all about staying quiet. You drag one of your hands down the length of your body and dip it between your thighs, rubbing quick, firm circles around your clit as your desperation to come mounts. Luke didn’t like it when you would touch yourself, he never allowed you to explore your sexuality or your own body, nor did he allow you to chase your high when you were together—but Joel?

He encourages it. Adores it.

He fucking adores you. And he always he makes sure to show you just how much he adores you.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, fuckin’ touch yourself—touch yourself while I fuck you.”

You swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud harder, the tension building in your core.

“Fuckin’ Christ, peach,” Joel groans behind you. “S’like this sweet little pussy was made for me. She was made just for me, y’know that?”

It’s hard to decide what does you in more when it comes to intimacy with Joel—is it when he’s soft and gentle, whispering beautiful, sweet nothings into the hollow of your neck while you’re underneath him, hands locked together and fingers interwined as he slowly slides in and out of your heat?

Or is it when he puts you on your hands and knees, obscene filth rolling off his tongue as he takes what belongs to him from behind?

He knows how to make love, but god, he also knows how to fuck and you can’t decide which side of him you prefer because they’re both perfect.

Unbelievably, devastatingly perfect.

“So fuckin’ tight, you feel s’good—” Joel grunts, driving himself deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that drives him just as wild as it does you. One of his hands abandons your hips and he glides it down the softness of your lower belly. What has to be one of your least favorite parts of yourself is one of his favorites and every night, Joel makes it his mission to prove to you just how flawless he thinks every inch of your body is. Lovingly, he caresses your tummy with his palm, and then trails his hand further down, slipping it between your thighs where his fingers join yours. Together, they circle your swollen clit and you hear the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears. 

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close—I’m gonna—” Your own gasp cuts off the end of your sentence. You try to warn him again, but your words are washed away by the wave of pleasure that crashes over you as one final stroke tips you both over the edge you’ve been teetering and you both come in tandem. Fisting handfuls of his blanket, you mewl out his name as your orgasm tears through your body, making it shudder.

Behind you, Joel releases a low, guttural groan, his chest heaving as his balls tighten. He spills into you and his eyes pinch shut when he feels you convulse around his cock, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth. “Fuck,” he chokes as he leans forward and drapes his body over yours, his length twitching and filling you until it leaks out of you, dripping onto the blanket. His breaths are ragged and labored, but eventually steady. Instead of pulling out of you, he gingerly pushes his hips into you once more. Feeling your walls clench around him, Joel drops his head and snickers, his warm breath tickling the damp skin on your back. He opens his eyes. “Feels like you’re ready for more, sweetheart,” he mutters, planting a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. Didn’t know I had me such a greedy girl, peach. Guess that innocent little angel face of yours had me fooled.”

You’re about to retort but when he bucks, all you can do is exhale sharply. Your pussy involuntarily flutters around him and though you can’t see it, you can picture the smug little grin on his face—he knows he’ll have your body begging for more if he keeps it up and so do you. He’s been insatiable tonight, wanting more and more and more, and you’re not all too sure if you have it in you for another round.

“We’ve still got some time left for one more,” Joel says. He peels himself off of you and palms the curve of your ass, kneading at the perfect mound with his fingers.

“Joel, I’m not sure I can handle it,” you mumble tiredly, shaking your head. “I think I’m all fucked out.” 

He laughs softly and pulls out of you.

You breathe out an audible sigh of relief welcoming the emptiness for once. Just as you’re about to get off of your hands and knees, Joel slides his index finger up your puffy, swollen slit and the arousal pools itself in your lower belly all over again. “God, no, please don’t,” you whine. “I can’t take anymore, Joel. I really fucking can’t.”

“Y’sure ‘bout that, darlin’?”

“Yes, I’m sure—” 

The lustful moan that echoes throughout the barn as he pushes his finger inside you says otherwise and you silently curse your own body for its cruel betrayal.

Joel hums. “Hm, doesn’t sound like you’re sure,” he teases, slipping a second finger into your pussy. He leans down and trails a line of hot, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your spine. He stops at the small of your back and murmurs against your skin, “I just fuckin’ know my sweet girl has one more left in her. I can fuckin’ feel it.” He curls his digits, eliciting another gasp from you. “Tell me, peach. Y’think you can be a real good girl and give me just one more?”

It takes less than a minute before you’re whimpering in defeat.

Of course you can give Joel one more—you can give him as many as he wants you to give him, as many as he can possibly coax out of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out in reply. “I’ll give you one more. But I just hope you know that I’m probably going to need you to carry me back across town after this.”

“Hm, I reckon I can handle that,” Joel muses with a small chuckle. He withdraws his fingers from you, his hands spreading your ass and revealing your needy, dribbling cunt. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his lips part slightly as he stares at you in complete awe.

Your face floods with heat, and though he can’t see your insecurity, but he feels it.

“She’s too fuckin’ pretty,” he remarks, admiring the way your folds glisten with your own wetness and his come. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze. “You’re s’goddamn fuckin’ beautiful, baby. Promise I ain’t ever gonna let you forget it.”

Your heart flutters wildly.

Before you have the chance to respond, he shifts his position, moving off the large bale of hay you two have been using as a makeshift bed for the last several nights. He lowers himself down onto his knees behind you. Joel looks at you and smirks when he sees the expression that crosses your features—it’s one of utter disbelief. He’s devoured you plenty of times before, but not in this position, and certainly not when you’re dripping, leaking with his come. His smirk widens. “Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?”

“Joel, I—I’m a mess right now,” you stammer out, nervously. “Are you sure you want to—?”

Joel flashes you an amused grin. “That a serious question, peach?” He chuckles when you nod in reply. “Well then, here’s my answer.” He buries his face into your cunt and swipes his tongue over your seam, flattening it out as slowly begins to drag it up and then down again. Joel groans into you, savoring the taste of you and your sweet muskiness combined with him and his slight saltiness. His tongue slips between your folds, eager, hungry for more.

“Joel,” his name tears from the back of your throat in a strangled cry. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d left you so sensitive. Your body involuntary jerks forward, squirming to get away from him—but Joel is having none of it. You can feel him grinning into your pussy as he wraps his hands around your thighs, curling his fingers as far as they can go around them.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice muffled between your legs. He tugs you back towards him and tightens his grip on you, holding you firmly in place, right where he needs you. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue around it before engulfing the bud.

He might have teased you about being greedy, but truth be told, he’s the greedy one. Knowing his time with you is so limited only makes him even greedier.

Joel feasts on you, his desire to have you fall apart on his tongue again driving him to ravage you as if his very fucking life depends on making you come. The sounds of your whimpers, which are on the verge of turning into full blown sobs of pleasure, only spur him on. It’s more than just sending you home satisfied—he wants to make certain that, even when you’re apart from one another, you’ll still feel him. His tongue on your cunt, his cock buried inside of you, his lips and hands all over your body.

He can’t leave his physical mark on you to remind you of him when you’re not together, but he can, at the very least, leave you with a yearning for more of him.

You raise a tightly curled fist to your mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming out.

It’s too much for you to handle.

But somehow, it’s still not enough.

You want him to stop.

And yet you need him to keep going.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Joel, please! Please!”  

You beg him out of desperation, although you’re not really sure what you’re begging him for at this point—for him to make you come or for him to stop before you dissolve into nothing but a pathetic, whimpering mess. One of his hands abandons your thigh and without warning, he pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you all the while his tongue laps at your clit. The muscles in your stomach contract and you explode, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you come undone all over again. There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t shaking, trembling—it takes you a minute to even realize Joel’s on his feet, helping you turn around to lie on your back.

“S’alright. I got you. I’ve got you, sweet girl.” Joel climbs onto the bale of hay and nudges your thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. Planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, he dips his head and peppers gentle kisses all over your neck and chest, giving you the chance to ride out your last high before it’s time to get up and start getting dressed.

After a minute or two, you find your voice.

Or at least, a tiny, meek version of it.

“Joel?” 

He hums, his nose skimming along your jawline. “Yeah, baby?”

“I think you really are going to have to carry me across town.”

Joel chuckles, gingerly nipping at your chin with his teeth. “Best cut that out, peach. S’gonna start gettin’ to my head real fast.”

You giggle. “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you getting too cocky, Miller.”

You bring a hand up to his face, cupping it in your palm. Gazes meet in the moonlight and you give him a soft, contented smile. You sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat.

Those eyes. That smile. Oh, that fucking smile. He wonders if you've figured out by now just how effortlessly you do him in.

Joel’s throat bobs. “Peach?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, then admits, “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.”

Your body stiffens underneath him, your eyes widening slightly.

“What is it, Joel?” 

Again, he hesitates. 

Joel’s been trying for some time now to say it—to tell you that he loves you.

But whenever he thought he’d finally mustered up enough courage to spit it out, he loses it the second those three words are about to fall from his lips. He can’t figure out for the life of him what he’s so afraid of. It’s obvious, to both of you, that he loves you, and he has no doubt in his mind that you love him too. But neither of you seem to have the guts to say it.

“Joel?” you say his name quietly, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Letting out a small, frustrated sigh, Joel shakes his head. “M’sorry, darlin’. S’just that—”

He stops short and shakes his head again, cursing himself for being such a coward.

You understand him, though. “It’s okay, Joel. I know how hard it is to say it. It’s really not as simple as one would think.” You laugh in spite of yourself. Grazing his beard lightly with your fingertips, you manage to give him another small smile. “Please don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or the day after that. I’m not going to pressure either of us into saying something if we aren’t quite ready to say it. It should wait until you are good and ready—until the both of us are good and ready.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me—”

“I already do, Joel.” You drop your hand away from his face and place it on his bare chest. His heart thrums steadily against your fingers. “And I feel the same way about you. You do know that, don’t you, honey?”

His heart skips a beat at the pet name. You feel it. 

Joel leans down, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “‘Course I do,” he murmurs. He then pulls back slightly, assuring you, “Couldn’t be any fuckin’ clearer to me.”

You press a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose and the little token of affection prompts his dark eyes to flutter closed. “Good.” You start to drag your fingernails and scrape them lightly down the length of his chest. They move lower, gliding over his soft belly and the coarse hair below his navel. With a tiny, innocent smirk, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it until he begins to harden in your palm. “Oh? What’s this?”

His eyes snap open and he groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Christ, baby,” he gruffs. “What happened to not havin’ it in you for more?”

“Mm, I lied.” You run the head of his cock between your folds, moaning as you tease your sopping entrance with it. “I’ve got one more in me. Do you think we have enough time?”

Joel bucks his hips into yours and slides into you in one swift, smooth motion. Moaning, your back arches off the blanket, your breasts pushing up against his chest when he bottoms out. “Oh, I reckon we can make it happen, my sweet girl.”

“If you smile any fucking harder, your face might actually fall off,” Ellie quips.

You look up from the clipboard you’re holding in your hands and glimpse over Duke’s back, only to see Ellie smirking to herself as she runs a brush across the brown and white spotted Appaloosa’s side, its stiff bristles clearing his stunning coat of dirt and debris.

Clearing your throat lightly, you try, but fail, to wipe the stupid grin off of your face. Not that it would make a difference, because it’s been plastered on your lips all morning long. You raise an eyebrow at her, questioning, “I’m sorry, is there something wrong with me being in a good mood today, missy?”

“Of course not.” Ellie briefly pauses and her gaze meets yours. She shrugs. “It’s actually really nice to see you so happy.” Her attention shifts back to the task at hand. As she continues to brush the horse, her smirk widens. “So I’m guessing last night with Joel went pretty well then, didn’t it?”

You don’t even flinch. Thanks to the warning Joel had given you a few weeks back, she hadn’t caught you too off guard. More than anything, what surprises you most was the fact that it’s taken the teenager this long to confront you about it.

“Ellie—”

She snorts. “Don’t bother trying to hide it. Look, I know you two have been meeting up in the middle of the fucking night for the last couple of months,” she states in a blunt, matter of fact tone. “And I also know that the two of you know that I know. So let’s not beat around the fucking bush here, sweet cheeks. Are you two like in a relationship or something? Or are you just—what do the kids call it these days? Hooking up? What exactly is the deal with you and Joel?”

Gasping, you’re quick to shush her. “Ellie!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax princess. It’s close to lunchtime, there’s no one in here but the two of us. So fucking spill it. What’s up with you and my old man?”

You sigh. Setting your clipboard down on top of the mounting block beside you, you step around Duke and approach Ellie. Even though you know everyone else in the stables had taken off to the mess hall for lunch hour, you keep your voice low and hushed. “Yes, okay. We’ve been meeting up at night and seeing each other.” You’d tried your best to prepare yourself for this, made a list of things you could say to her to make the fact that you were having a full blown secret affair with the man who’s essentially her father seem a bit less shameful. But it was useless. No matter which way you could try to spin it for her, the bottom line was that you are a married woman who is cheating on her husband.

And you’re cheating with Joel.

“Listen, what we’re doing, it’s not right—”

Ellie lifts her hand and interrupts you. 

“You guys make each other happy, don’t you?”

“I can’t speak for Joel,” you reply tentatively, shifting your weight from one muck caked boot to the other. “But he definitely makes me happy. He makes me the happiest I have been in a long, long time.”

She chortles. “Oh, come the fuck on, you know you make his crabby ass happy too,” she tells you. She grins and continues to say, “Seriously dude, if only you could see him in the mornings after he’s been with you. Picture it, he’s getting ready to head out for patrol and he’s going about the kitchen smiling like a fucking idiot as he makes his coffee.”'

“Really?”

“Really,” Ellie confirms. “It’s fucking sickening.”

You can't help but chuckle at her remark.

There’s a brief bout of silence, but Ellie’s quick to cut through it. “Can I ask you something?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Figured,” you sigh. “Alright kid, go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you love Joel?”

Anxiously, you nibble on your bottom lip. “Yes,” you admit softly after a minute. “I do.”

Ellie glances down at the brush in her hands. She fiddles with it, running her fingers over the coarse, stiff bristles. “Wow,” she murmurs, quietly. Any trace of humor had completely vanished. “It must really fucking suck having to hide being with the person that you love, huh?”

“Yeah, it does. It really, really fucking does.”

Ellie opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.

Frowning, you take a step closer to her. “What is it, Ellie?”

“You could leave him, you know. Luke.”

“What?” Your mouth dries. “What are you talking about?”

“You could leave him,” Ellie repeats. Pausing, she chews the inside of her cheek. She seems nervous as she shuffles from foot to foot, something you find strange considering how brazen the girl can be. “You could move in with us into our house, you know?” For as tough as she could be, it tugs at your heart strings whenever her innocence peeks through, much like it is now. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You smile wistfully at the thought.

A life where you can openly be in a relationship with Joel—take your place by his side and live a life of peace with him and Ellie?

Of course you do. 

But it’s a dream that’s too far out of reach.  

“I would love that,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. You let your finger graze the softness of her cheek before dropping your hand back down to your side. “You honestly have no idea how happy that would make me, Ellie. But it’s not all that simple—it’s much too complicated for me to leave Luke.”

“How the fuck is it complicated? You aren’t happy with a man you aren’t even really married to. The world fucking ended, it’s not a real marriage. Just take off the ring, pack up your shit, and it’s done. I don’t see what’s so fucking complicated about it.”

You sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because you’re not even giving me the chance to fucking understand,” Ellie shoots back at you, anger and frustration glazing over her brown eyes as she tries to make sense of it all. “You could actually be happy with Joel—and with me. We could be a family, a real fucking family.”

Caught off guard, you stare at her in complete shock. It’s not like you aren’t aware of how close she’s grown to you since you’d met, but you never expected her to see you as family. 

“Ellie, please. You have to believe me. Nothing would make me happier,” you choke out in reply. You furiously blink back the hot, stubborn tears that threaten to fall and hold it together for her sake rather than for yours. “Being together with Joel—being with the two of you and living life together as a family would be incredible.”

“Then why won’t you just fucking leave him?” she demands, growing more irate. “Why miss out on the chance to be fucking happy for once?”

Her questions are met with silence. 

How do you even begin to explain it to her?

How do you tell a teenager that you’re trapped with no way out? How afraid you were of your husband?

You don’t. You can’t.

“Well?” Ellie impatiently prompts you after a minute. “Come on man, just tell me the fucking truth already. Why can’t you leave Luke?” Her gaze finds yours and her eyes widen when the realization suddenly starts to sink in for her. “Oh shit.”

You quickly shake your head. “Ellie, wait—”

“It’s because he won’t let you leave, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

For a second, you feel like you’re going to be sick all over her sneakers. 

Before you can even think of how to respond to the accusation, the sound of Tommy Miller’s voice echoes through the stables. “Ellie!” he shouts. “Ellie! You in here?”

Relieved, you call out to him. “Hey, Tommy! Yeah, she’s here—she’s with me in Duke’s stall!”

Scowling, Ellie points a menacing finger at you. “This conversation isn’t over,” she mutters. “Far fucking from it, princess.”

Tommy rushes into the stall, his chest heaving. He’s out of breath and sweating profusely, his curls plastered to his forehead. His light blue denim shirt is stained with crimson and so are his hands—he’s covered in blood.

“Tommy!” you gasp out his name and run up to him, grabbing onto his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright! Blood ain’t mine,” he says, giving you a reassuring nod as he wraps his hands around your forearms, smearing your skin red. He then looks over your shoulder at Ellie. “It’s Joel. He’s been shot.”

Your nails dig into his arms, a chill running down your spinal cord.

“What?” Ellie cries, running up to the two of you in a panic. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened? How did he—is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Tommy tells her, eliciting a breath of relief from her, as well as from you. “He got hit in the shoulder. I had to come find you and tell you right away,” he explains to her. “Needed you to hear it from me and not from anybody else.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s down at the clinic. I can take you there now—”

Ellie drops the brush in her hand. “What are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go!”

Tommy nods and lets go of you. He whirls around on the heel of his boot and leads her out of Duke’s stall.

You start to follow behind them, but freeze.

What business do you have seeing Joel?

As far as Tommy’s concerned, you’re nothing to his brother. Just a neighbor, maybe an acquaintance. The veterinarian his kid works for, if anything, but certainly nothing more.

“Wait.” Ellie halts in her tracks and turns back to you, beckoning with her hand. When you don’t move a muscle, she rolls her eyes and hurries over to you, taking your hand in hers. “Come on!”

Tommy shoots her a confused look.

“Ellie, what are you—?”

Ellie’s head whips around and she glares at you, as if telling you to be quiet. “I need you to come with me,” she says. “I’m going to need you for uh—you know, for emotional support and shit.”

It suddenly clicks. You know what she’s doing.

She’s giving you the excuse to see Joel. 

Squeezing Ellie’s hand in a silent thank you, both of you follow Tommy out of the stables and across the commune towards the clinic.

“Tommy, what happened out there?” you ask him.

“Raiders,” Tommy answers over his shoulder. His long strides are difficult to keep up with, and you and Ellie are forced to break out into a jog just to keep up with him. “Motherfuckers came outta nowhere and ambushed us. They got Joel in the shoulder, hit Carl in the stomach. Peter got shot in the chest—he’s in real bad shape. We don’t think he’s gonna fuckin’ make it.”

Your stomach churns. Peter. Marther’s husband.

“Anyone else wounded?”

He shakes his head. “No, but we did lose two of our horses. Daisy and Cash.”

“How could this fucking happen?” Ellie demands furiously.

“We think it was that same group we were trackin’ back a few weeks ago.” Tommy’s voice is strained. He tightly shakes his head, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. “They must have realized we stopped with double patrol. Those fuckers caught us with our guard down. I fuckin’ knew we shouldn’t have eased up with patrol duties, I should’ve had every able bodied patrolman man out there day and night—”

You frown at the back of his head. “Tommy, please. You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known they were still out there after all this time.”

“Tell that to Martha,” he replies bitterly. “Tell that to Carl’s wife and to his daughters.”

Knowing there isn’t anything you could say to console Tommy or ease the guilt he’s feeling, you clamp your mouth shut.

Now isn’t the time to even try.

The three of you arrive at Jackson’s clinic.

Before the outbreak, the building had served as an urgent care facility for the town.

Abandoned and picked clean over the years, it had taken a lot of time and effort for the community to restore what was left of it into a safe, reliable place that could be used for healthcare services. It still wasn’t much even after the fact, but the clinic boasted three examination rooms for patients, and its shelves, once bare, were now decently stocked with precious medical supplies such as bandages, vials of penicillin, and clean syringes.

Tommy leads you and Ellie inside and the first thing the both of you notice are the trails of splattered blood on the speckled linoleum floors. You pray none of it is Joel’s.

In the first exam room, you can hear Carl, a man who used to work in the stables with you before he’d be assigned to be a patrolman. He’s sobbing, screaming out in agony as he begs for someone to help him. In the second exam room that’s just across the hall from the first, you can hear Luke. He’s speaking to someone, presumably one of the nurses, instructing them to hand him more gauze, along with a scalpel.

“Joel’s in here.” Tommy walks to the last door at the end of the brightly lit hallway and opens it, stepping aside to allow you and Ellie into the room. “Hey, big brother. Got someone here who wants to see you.”

Your stomach churns, breath hitching in your throat when you see him perched on the examination table without his shirt on, firmly holding a bloodied cloth to his left shoulder to conceal his wound.

“Shit,” Ellie breathes out, dropping your hand. She hurries over to his side. “Joel, are you okay?”

Joel glares at his brother. “Thought I told you not to fuckin’ bring her here, Tommy.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause she’s your—” Tommy pauses, searching for the right word. “She’s your Ellie. She should be here with you, Joel.”

“She doesn’t need to fuckin’ see me like this—” He stops abruptly when he finally sees you standing there at the door looking like you’d just seen a ghost.

Noticing that he’s about to question what you’re doing there, Ellie cuts him off and pins him with a stern look as if to tell him to shut the fuck up. “I asked her to come down here with me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him and hoping he’ll get the hint. “Hope that’s okay?”

His eyes flit back over to you and he gives a single, subtle nod of approval. “You can come in,” he tells you. His gaze meets your own, but he’s careful not to let it linger for too long. “S’alright. Come on in.”

You stand there frozen. It’s not until Tommy puts his hand on the small of your back and nudges you forward that you you finally move. “Hey,” you say to Joel, your voice small and feeble. Cautiously, you approach him, your mouth and throat dry. Resisting the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him, you fall into step beside Ellie. She reaches for your hand again, holding it in hers as she gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

“M’okay.” Joel looks from you to Ellie, nodding his head in reassurance. “M’gonna be okay. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

“Anyone been in here to see you yet?” Tommy asks.

“It look like anyone’s been in to see me yet?” Joel deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “When is someone gonna take a look at him? He’s been fucking shot!”

“We’ve only got one doctor and two nurses,” Tommy reminds her gently, placing his hands on his hips. “They do what they can, kiddo.”

Letting go of Ellie’s hand, you stand in front of Joel and gesture to his shoulder. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

Reluctant, Joel’s lips purse together. “Y’sure you wanna do that?”

You nod. 

“Go ahead then,” he murmurs.

Carefully, you peel back the blood soaked cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound.

“It’s right there—the bullet. I can see it. It looks like it’s still intact as well. The good news about that is that it’s going to make extraction a lot easier since the bullet didn’t break off into fragments.” You manage to keep a calm, cool and collected demeanor. On the inside, you’re anything but. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it is to see Joel injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet behind you, there’s no choice but to stay composed to avoid raising any kind of suspicion.

“And the bad news?” Ellie prompts worriedly.

“Well, he could get a serious infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder. It needs to be removed and his wound needs to be flushed out and cleaned. It also looks like something we can stitch up. He will be fine but he needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.” You glance back at Tommy. “He can’t just sit here like this for much longer.”

“Luke’s still workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line since he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he needed to tend to the injuries in order based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”

“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You refer to the two nurses who work in the clinic alongside your husband. Every nerve in your entire body is on edge. All you want is someone, anyone—even if that fucking means Luke—to tend to Joel. It’s quite selfish on your part considering the severe nature of the other two men’s injuries, but you can’t help yourself. You need Joel to be okay or you won’t be okay. “We can have one of them do it. I’m sure they’re capable of an extraction.”

Tommy runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room next door tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”

Your emotions boil over and finally, you snap. Turning to the younger man, you nearly shout at him in frustration. “He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”

Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy raises his eyebrows but he says nothing.

“Wait a minute.” Ellie grabs your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”

“Yeah. She did,” Tommy realizes. “My horse, Ranger. He got in the shoulder durin’ an attack a couple years ago. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”

Your eyes bounce between them in absolute disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse.”

“How different could it be?” Tommy wonders out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.

Furiously, you shake your head. “I’ve never treated a human wound before, at least not one like this. Cuts and scrapes, sure. But this is a gunshot wound, guys. I can’t—”

Ellie’s fingers dig anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispers, her eyes looking up into yours pleadingly. “You’ve got to help him. Please.”

Slowly, you turn to Joel, who hasn’t uttered a single word. “Would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing outta my shoulder,” he remarks after a minute. He brings his gaze to meet yours and holds, forgetting all about subtlety. “I trust you.”

“Joel, I can’t. I’m not capable—”

“Oh fuck that, you are capable,” Ellie insists, shaking her head at you.

Helplessly, you turn to Tommy for backup.

“I’m gonna have to agree with with the kid, little lady. You’re capable. I just know it.”

“Please,” Ellie begs you. “It could be fucking hours before Luke gets to him. You said it yourself just a minute ago, Joel can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. He could get an infection. Please, you have to do it. Do it for me.” Do it for him, she wants to say. But she knows she can’t.

Hearing the desperation in her voice, you don’t have much choice but to reluctantly agree to it. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” you relent, exhaling a sigh of defeat. “But if I’m going to do this, I would rather do it without an audience watching me.”

“Say no more.” Tommy gently takes Ellie’s arm and starts tugging her towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s wait out in the hallway, kiddo.”

“But—” She begins to protest. 

“Ellie.” Joel grits out her name. “Listen to Tommy.”

Annoyed, she huffs, “Jesus, okay. Fine.”

As soon as they disappear and close the door behind them, you turn back to Joel, your heart slamming against your ribcage.  

“I trust you,” he repeats, firmly. “Alright?”

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Alright.”

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, you begin digging around through various cabinets and in drawers, searching for the supplies that you would need—a bottle of saline solution, a pair of surgical forceps, and a clean needle for the stitches. You toss them onto a small silver tray along with plenty of gauze and a packet of nylon sutures that had expired well over fifteen years ago. The only thing you can’t find are gloves, and while you were sure there had to be a box somewhere in the clinic, you don’t have the spare time to search for them. You wash your hands as thoroughly as possible with warm water and a bit of natural, handmade antibacterial soap one of the women in the commune makes and sells in her apothecary shop on Main Street along with her healing ointments and salves.

Your mind spins as you dry off your hands and pick up the tray, slowly making your way over to Joel. You set it down on the exam table and stand in front of him, inhaling a long, deep breath through your nose. Exhaling it slowly and steadily through your mouth, you ask, “Are you ready?”

Joel places his hand on your hip, his fingers brushing the skin that peeks between the waistband of your jeans and the lace hem of your yellow camisole. “Think I should be the one askin’ you that question, darlin’.”

You could have laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

“How can you be so sure about that, Joel?”

“‘Cause. I know my girl,” Joel murmurs, softly. He makes certain to keep his voice low, just in case Tommy and Ellie happen to be standing too close to the door. “And I know she’s capable of a hell of a lot more than she thinks she is. I believe in you, peach,” he asserts, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “I trust you with my fuckin’ life.”

Your eyes glaze over with tears and you exhale a shaky breath. It’s not just his words, it’s the sincerity behind them—he means it when he says he trusts you with his life. If it ever came down to it, he would put it right in your hands.

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” you warn him. “I don’t have any anesthetic to numb the area.”

His hand falls away from you and he curls it into a loose fist on his thigh. “Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse, sweetheart.”

Reaching for the cloth on his shoulder, your hands threaten to tremble but you will them to stay as steady as possible as you remove it, setting side before picking up the bottle of saline and a piece of gauze. The bleeding had ceased. You clean the area well and give yourself a clear view of the thumb sized projectile. “It’s pretty superficial,” you observe, wiping at the wound and causing him to wince. “It doesn’t look like it caused any kind of severe damage, either.” Throwing the used gauze aside, you take the pair of forceps and show them to him. “Ready?”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, do I now?”

“Nope.” You flash him a tiny, wry smile. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and begin the extraction. I need you to stay as still as possible, alright?”

Joel nods grimly, his jaw clenched and lips pressed in a tight line.

“One, two, three—take a big, deep breath in and let it out slowly through your nose.”

He does as you instruct him, his fist tightening on his leg as he braces himself.

Firmly holding the forceps, you carefully insert the jaws of the instrument into his wound. Although you want to get the painful procedure over with as quickly as possible, you have to be careful not to cause any kind of further damage to his shoulder. “Fuck,” Joel hisses through gritted teeth, his eyes pinching closed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Didn’t think it’d hurt this fuckin’ bad.”

You manage to get a good grip on the bullet with the forceps. “Almost done,” you assure him. “I’m going to pull it out now. Take another deep breath in for me and hold it.”

He nods and inhales, his chest expanding.

“On three, let it out—one, two, three.”

Joel exhales sharply as you swiftly pull the bullet from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he curses again, shaking his head. Even though his shoulder feels like it’s on fire, he does feel a huge sense of relief as soon as the round comes out.

“Got it,” you say, lifting the forceps. You show Joel the projectile clamped in the instrument’s jaws. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that there was even a slight possibility that the bullet you’re holding in your hand could have hit him somewhere else—it could have been a fatal shot. Shoving the nauseating thought out of your mind, you set it down on the tray and pick up the bottle of saline and a couple pieces of clean gauze. After flushing the wound and cleaning it a second time, you take a closer look at it just to be sure there’s no serious damage to the tissues in his shoulder. “Everything looks alright from what I can see. I cleaned it as best I could, but there’s always a risk for infection so you’ll have to take a round of antibiotics. You’ll also have to wear a sling for about four to six weeks. Doctor’s orders,” you add with a tiny, jeering smile when you clock the disdain on his face.

“Shit. That mean’s Tommy’s gonna pull me off of patrol,” he realizes, miserably. “What the hell am I gonna do for four to six weeks?”

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Recover from being shot?”

“Yeah I s’ppose I am,” he mutters with an eye roll.

Calm, tranquil silence falls over you as you prepare the suture, looping it through the needle. The moment you start stitching him up, an emotional lump rises in the back of your throat and you’re not sure why. Joel is fine. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay, and yet, all you can do is think about how frightened you’d been when Tommy ran into the stables covered in blood and said that Joel had been shot. How terrifying it was to think he was dead. 

He says your name softly.

When you don’t acknowledge him, he reverts to his nickname for you. “Peach.”

You hum, trying to stay focused on finishing the task of closing up his wound. “Hm?”

“Look at me, baby.”

“Joel, I’m kind of in the middle of someth—”

“I love you.”

Stopping mid stitch, you look at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Darlin’, I can’t count the number of times I almost fuckin’ said, but couldn’t. How many times those words have been right there on the tip of my tongue and just when I’m ‘bout to say them, I lose the nerve. After what happened today, m’gonna stop bein’ such a fuckin’ fool. M’gonna tell you every chance I get,” Joel vows, his gaze piercing into yours. “You had my heart from day fuckin’ one and you’re gonna have it for the rest of my life, sweet girl. I love you.”

His declaration knocks all of the wind out of your lungs and leaves you breathless. Speechless.

“AIn’t gotta say it back to me until you’re ready,” Joel reassures you. “Y’know how I feel ‘bout you—but I think it was time you finally heard it.”

You choke down your emotions—now isn’t the time to break down, not when you have a needling poking through his flesh. It’s not exactly how you pictured you professing your love for each other, but it feels right. “I love you too, Joel,” you whisper back to him. “I’ve been wanting to say it to you too, but I’ve just been afraid.” You pause and realize, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Joel tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do me a real big favor darlin’ and finish stitchin’ me up quick ‘cause I’m fuckin’ dyin’ for a kiss.”

Letting out a tearful little laugh, you carefully finish pitching him up. As soon as you finish with the last stitch, Joel wraps his uninjured arm around your waist. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs. He tugs you forward so you’re standing between his legs and tilts his head up towards yours. 

You smile at him before leaning in, molding your mouth to his in a sweet kiss. 

As you do, Luke’s voice echoes loudly out in the hallway. “What the hell do you mean she’s—”

Jerking away from Joel, you jump back just as the door swings open.

Luke bursts into the examination room with Tommy and Ellie behind him. His dark green eyes flit from you to Joel and then back to you again.

“Joel!” Ellie shoves past him. “You okay?”

“M’alright,” he replies stiffly, his eyes carefully trained on your husband.

“Tommy told me you were treating Joel’s wound.” Luke approaches you, and while he is keeping a collected composure for the sake of not causing a scene in front of the other people in the room, you know him better than that. He’s furious, but he’s masking it well.

Nervously, you nod. “Yes. I extracted the bullet from his shoulder, flushed and cleaned the wound, and stitched him up.” You notice the blood on his light blue medical scrubs and glance around him at Tommy. “How is Peter?”

His expression is grim. “Didn’t make it.”

“God,” you mutter, your heart clenching in your chest as you think of Martha. She’s just lost her husband.

Luke walks over to Joel, whose hands are curled into fists in his lap. He inspects his shoulder, observing the work you’d done. He then looks over his shoulder at you and frowns. “You shouldn’t have done this,” your husband chastises you, shaking his head tightly. “You aren’t a trained medical professional. Do you even realize—”

“Your wife did a good fuckin’ job,” Joel cuts him off. “She knew what she was doin’.”

Luke’s head whips back around and the two men’s eyes meet in a tense exchange.

“Give her some more fuckin’ credit than that. She’s amazin’,” the older man states, his nostrils flaring. 

“Yeah,” Ellie chimes in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes at Luke. “She’s fucking amazing.”

Luke turns to her and arches an eyebrow. Before he can say anything, the sound of Donna’s voice comes from the room next door.

“Luke! I need a little help in here!”

Lips pursed together, Luke takes a step back from Joel and turns on his heel to leave. As he passes you, he stops briefly, long enough to whisper to you quietly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

A chill runs down your spine.

You know exactly what he means by that. 

Luke tosses you a subtle glare and stalks out of the room.

“I should go and find Maria,” Tommy states with a sad sigh. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Martha about Peter.” He gives you a nod. “Thank you, little lady. For takin’ such good care of my big brother.” He disappears, closing the door behind him and leaving the three of you alone.

Ellie comes up to you, curling her arms around your waist. “Thank you. We fucking owe you one.”

You say nothing as you hug her back, holding onto her tightly.

You try not to think about what’s in store for you later that evening at home.

[elliesbelle]

yes, the global strike for palestine is over. HOWEVER, there is another one taking place from february 18 to 25.

for what to do for the second strike, here’s a reminder:

if you didn’t hear about the first strike? okay. that’s fine. not everyone is always online. i hope that you’re still doing something in your own way to rectify that.

but this time? there really should be no excuse. you have weeks to prepare.

you have time to figure out how to get out of work or school (if you can).

you have time to prepare prior so you don’t buy anything while it’s going on and can help disrupt the economy.

you have time to spread the word and raise awareness to your friends, family, co-workers, etc.

and if, for some reason, you can’t do any of the things above? you’re at least aware that from february 18-25, it is a total media BLACKOUT unless it is about palestine (exceptions are obviously other global atrocities like what’s happening in congo and sudan and pakistan and etc.)

no “harmless” selfies you took in the bathroom. no vacation photos. no posting of stupid little memes. no retweeting about some insignificant. irrelevant hollywood feud. no reblogging of cutesy animal pictures. no fun little inside jokes on your finsta.

don’t care if your account is small or private or “unpopular.”

instagram, tumblr, twitter, facebook, all of social media.

if you aren’t even capable of that?

hell is hot and i hope you burn.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

matchmaking. ( beck oliver x reader )

gif belongs to me

Your friendship with Tori stood the test of time despite her moving schools to Hollywood Arts. It was through Tori that you were introduced to Beck Oliver after you had come over to her house while the two were rehearsing lines. Tori knew from your expression which was calm and collected on the outside, you were immediately enamored with Beck who joked about your school taking Tori back.

You laughed lightly. "All deals are final."

Beck chuckled, glancing at your hands, quickly letting go when he realized he hadn't stopped shaking your hand. He ran his fingers through his hair, sending you a smile that made your cheeks burn.

"Hello? You came to see me? Best friend?"

You turned to Tori who held her hand up and you returned the sweater you had borrowed. "Thank you."

"It's fine." She smiled. "So how did the interview go?"

"I start Monday." You told her, glancing at Beck. "Well, I should let you two get back to rehearsing."

"You could stay?" Tori offered.

You shook your head, backing away to the door, almost tripping over the sofa, laughing it off. "No, you two be creative. I'm gonna go - somewhere. Not here." You sent Beck a smile, "It was nice meeting you. I finally have a face to put to the name."

Beck stared as you left, "Uh, you too!" He called out but it was too late the door was closed and when he looked at Tori the brunette was smiling. "What?"

"You think she's cute." Tori mimicked his awkward goodbye, and Beck took a seat on the sofa dismissing her claims. "Oh, come on." She mimicked the way you both stared at each other while shaking hands and Beck laughed off her assumptions.

"I just met her."

"So, you can still think she's cute which you totally do." She grinned.

"Doesn't she have a boyfriend?" Beck asked, picking up his script in an attempt not to sound too interested.

"They broke up yesterday." Tori joined him on the sofa. "She called last night to tell me about it."

Beck looked at the brunette who was excited at the possibility of two of her friends dating. "Don't you think it's a little soon to be asking her out on a date?"

Unable to argue with this logic, Tori relented and the two continued with their rehearsal for a few more hours. However, Tori's hopes that you and Beck would start dating never ended. Now and then you realized she was dropping hints about Beck and while you were interested you tried to appear as if you weren't too interested.

"He goes to a fancy school. I doubt he wants me hanging around. He seems really cool." You commented as you studied together one evening.

"He is really cool. And he says you are too." You looked at the brunette who sighed, "Too much?"

You nodded, smiling softly. "I appreciate it, really. I just don't want to jump into something right now."

While Tori never mentioned the subject to you again, you noticed that Beck just happened to stop by when you were at her house or she invited you to spend time with her friends from Hollywood Arts and you always ended up sitting next to Beck who you quickly realized was cool, but thoughtful and caring. And you knew Tori was seeing cupids flying around you both as you spoke, forgetting about the others. You could make Beck laugh like Tori had never seen and he could make you smile wider than she ever thought possible.

Tori knew that you would never make the first move. So she had to convince Beck to do it.

Beck was in his trailer when she entered and he turned when she closed the door, chewing his apple. "Come on in."

"Thank you." She replied with equal sarcasm. "I need to talk to you."

Beck, sensing the atmosphere changing, approached her, listening intently.

"It's about Y/N."

Beck went to walk away but Tori stopped him. "I know you like her." She began. "And I know she likes you too. She's just afraid of making the first move."

"You want me to ask her out?"

"Do you like her?" Tori asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Beck had shrugged this question off many times and replied with, "Yeah, she's pretty cool." But this time he sighed, and nodded. "Fine, alright, yes." Tori grinned. "I like her. But I'm not asking her out."

"What? Why not?"

"She said she doesn't know if she's ready to start dating yet." He explained.

"Because she wants to know if you feel the same way!" Tori exclaimed. She took out her cell phone and selected your contact, holding the phone out for Beck to see. "Now or never."

Beck thought for a moment before taking her phone and Tori grinned when he dialled your number. His eyes glanced around as he waited for you to answer, his nervousness showing until you picked up.

"Tori?"

"Hi, no it's Beck." He replied.

"Oh, hi!" You smiled.

"I have two tickets for a movie that's probably gonna be terrible. Do you want to go with me?"

You bit your lower lip, pausing for a moment as you understood that this was the moment you had waited for. "Yeah, sure. I love bad movies."

Beck grinned, and Tori held his arm as she jumped up and down. "Great! I'll pick you up on Friday at seven."

"See you then." You smiled as you hung up and Beck turned to Tori, chuckling when she squealed.

He held out her cell phone, and she took it. "Now, will you stop playing matchmaker?"

She nodded. "This is amazing!" She hugged him and he chuckled as he let her jump around, shaking his head.

He would later thank her for her interference after your date ended successfully and your presence in their group became more common, standing side by side with Beck who had never looked happier. And Tori knew from the way you looked at your boyfriend, you had never felt as happy as you did with him.

[mysteriouslyseverealpaca]

Uttara Phalguni, Charming Handsome Beauty 🌞♌️♍️

Steve Cardenas, Uttara Phalguni Moon

Uttara Phalguni men tend to have a classically handsome face. These mens face often calls to mind of the old Hollywood era. These men could be born in any timeline and be considered handsome.

Sean Connery, Uttara Phalguni Moon

Mitchell Burns, Uttara Phalguni Sun & James Franco, Uttara Phalguni Moon

These men tend to have an elongated mouth often paired with their thin-full lips. Their eyes tend to have a really nice almond shape and it sometimes can be hooded but their eyelid creases will not disappear. Their eyebrows are generally thick and most of the time straight and kind of arched at the back. The face shape most common in these men seems to be diamond or oval.These men tend to be the type to be sexually experimental(and experimental in general) and are often times kinda gay or ARE GAY. They are the men who tend to be accepting of the LGBTQ community. These men are very comfortable in their sexuality and aren’t afraid to act gay or feminine unless they still haven’t reached the maturity for it.

P.s i dont mean act gay as in they are gay

Noah Beck & Channing Tatum Both Uttara Phalguni Moon

These men tend to have a glow on their face, after all they are ruled by the Sun. And i forgot to mention these men tend to like toying with feminine things whether that be makeup, accessories or skincare(it’s has a rep for being feminine and insecure men often call people who do skin care gay) and etc. These men are well groomed and take good care of themselves.

Ankit Gupta & Lee Heesung Both Uttara Phalguni Moon

Andy Bian, Uttara Phalguni Moon & Seo Ha Joon, Uttara Phalguni Sun

John Gaines Jr, Uttara Phalguni Moon & Michael B Jordan, Uttara Phalguni ASC

Suga, Uttara Phalguni Moon

Seungmin & Youngjae Both Uttara Phalguni Sun

Uttara Phalguni men sometimes possess chubby cheeks and have a fuller face.

i forgot to mention they tend to have really charming smiles. Also if they aren’t good looking they will always be charming which makes them good looking.

P.s not all of them are going to look the same because of their other nakshatras seeping through. For example although James Franco is a uttara phalguni moon his swati asc is just as strong(shown by his eyebrow placing). It’s only important that you spot a commonality in their physiognomy.

Jimmy Fallon, Uttara Phalguni Sun

Teddy Park, Uttara Phalguni Sun

[speirslore]

band of brothers officers: dating hcs

a/n: hello! this is my first post but ive been lurking in the bob fandom for a while & i'm soooo excited to finally join... i have a bunch of other ideas and drafts i want to post soon :) this includes the officers: winters, nixon, speirs, lipton, + buck, please lmk if anyone would be interested in more of the boys! i made it vague but the reader is implied to be a part of easy company in some capacity

[dick winters]

he is a very private person and shy... like his ears go bright red at the mere mention of your name which easy company takes full advantage of

you think it's incredibly sweet

it takes a while for him to have confidence when interacting with you in the beginning... he feels inexperienced and that you couldn’t possibly be interested in him

it's a slow burn for sureee

like men getting out of the hospital that come back to the company are immediately like "so are they finally together??"

there are bets on when and where it will finally happen

luz's theory is one of you has to confess when you all jump into berlin at the end of the war... the perfect hollywood ending

it ofc doesn't happen like that; it's a slow process of building trust, it's a mix of quality time and acts of service

the quality time can be hard to come by during the war but dick is determined to check in with you: small, reassuring smiles and touches, finding each other in crowded rooms

it's very private, he doesn't want to jeopardize either of your careers or reputations, but ofc lew knows the details (but the entire company basically knows?)

and lew is good at keeping secrets.. he's the intelligence officer ofc (as he constantly reminds the two of you)

a lot of wrapping his arms around you pulling your back to his chest, resting his chin on your head or shoulder

maybe even a quick smooch

kisses as rewards for him finishing all the action reports he has to do

omg then in austria... things definitely change... and it's easier to label what you have.. dick can finally relax (to some extent), and it starts to feel like more of a normal relationship

all the men are so happy for you like he's had 20+ wingmen this entire time <3

[lewis nixon]

another one that i think is definitely slow burn... but once he finds out he's getting divorced...

even before that, lew's humor always made you feel more comfortable and at ease

he has always gravitated towards you

definitely gets clingy

lovessss sleeping with you like insists that sleep is extremely important for a solider and he sleeps sooo well with you

it's literally impossible to escape his arms when you're sleeping... leg thrown over you, arms wrapped around you

the most comfortable you've ever been fr

the ungodly amount of sexual tension before you get together... oh god.. one time the officers are all playing poker; welsh and lipton just look at each other when lew's leg kicks yours under the table or you lean against his shoulder

like oh god... not again... they're telepathically planning their escape

all the tension, stares, touches, long talks you've had reach a boiling point as lew becomes more jaded by the war and he finds out abt the divorce

you instinctively want to take care of him and you're definitely worried about him... you have a lot of convos with dick trying to figure out the best way to approach and help lew

words of affirmation are very important to him... i think his initial instinct is gift giving but that's difficult with the war.. and he doesn't feel connected to that, it's just what he's always known

if he gets too drunk, you stay up monitoring him and you really don't mind and just knowing you're there for him makes him v emotional:

like you make him feel like there's hope and a future after the war... and he's been thinking that for a long time but finally says it laying on your chest with your hand running through his hair

you help him shave which eventually ends in making out (a lot of things you guys do devolve into that)

he's your poor little meow meow but in the best possible way

[ron speirs]

ngl the attraction was strong from the start and it didn't take long for you to fall for him... by england before your first drop you both already fell hard

everyone is in disbelief that the rumor is it's YOU that he's seeing

everyone thinks you're a total angel and then... speirs.. it's just tht absolutely none of the men can imagine him being soft or romantic

wants you all to himself... is very good about making free time to be with you

unintentionally hovers

and very subconsciously touchy

has to fight himself from grabbing your hand instinctively

like he can know where your platoon is, where you're dug in but still will make rounds just to have peace of mind and know you're okay

just like all the other rumors, ron doesn't really care about clarifying his relationship with you

oh but if he ever heard a man talking disparagingly about you... just one silent stare and the soldier wouldn't even look at you again

omg def the type to carry around a collection pictures.... those are his prized possessions fr

like a pocket in his uniform just full of very pretty (and private) pictures <3

there's a few wholesome ones too.. like when the two of you had a 48 hour pass to scotland... but others (most of them) not so much

and ofc if you ever need anything... like you need a new watch? he has one for you in a few hours

he truly does love gift giving...

i also think physical touch is a huge love language for him

+ i think like pillow talk, just late night talking with you letting him rant and get everything off of his mind is so cathartic for him

and he really appreciates feeling like you understand him and you want and are willing to listen

[carwood lipton]

definitely the wholesome mom and dad couple

usually, most definitely, attached at the hip

always has a hand on the small of your back, or shoulder, arm, etc, he likes the reassurance of small touches and knowing definitively that you're next to him

i have a very self indulgent headcanon that he likes whenever you kiss and thumb over the scar on his cheek <3 makes him feel less self conscious

okay so lip takes care of everyone else but who's taking care of him?!

guys will come to you bc they know carwood will listen to you if you're the one who tells him he has to rest and take it easy

omg.. and if you're married... he's always twisting and playing with his ring just to remind him of you

has multiple letters from you stuffed in one of his uniform's pocket

he has all of the words memorized by now but just physically holding them is so comforting

quality time and acts of service are HUGE for him

and alone time can be so hard to come by... but anything he can do to make your job and tasks easier... he will do

and vice versa ofc

everyone else watching like wow .. relationship goals fr

anytime he leaves and you're split up for a few days... you always have a dramatic reunion jumping into his arms

a lot of fantasizing about your future together... because it feels so close.. but also so far away

[buck compton]

fraternization rules?? what rules?

has absolutely no shame to be at the bar playing darts, hands all over your waist

and showing you off, dancinggg

just feeling a little silly and goofy... making out at the bar

and everyone is hyping you up

i think at the beginning of the war, your relationship is newer and fun... neither of you are really thinking about something serious

i think physical touch and words of affirmation are huge for him

as the war progresses, the thought and fear of losing you grows, especially after he saw so many of his men suffer/die

and he realizes how much he cares about you...

you comfort him after bastogne... a lot and even though it can be extremely melancholy, hearing you talking about your life pre war, and your life together in the future keeps him going

insisting to him that he'll have to show you california and ucla

writing to him constantly after he's taken off the line.. giving him updates on all the men

in austria, when he returns, watching him play baseball with the boys feels absolutely perfect

[synnamon-hearts]

Older!movie producer/director!Josh Washington x younger!reader dacryphilia imagine

(Disclaimer: Josh is 30 and the reader is at least 20)

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Imagine that Josh is a big time movie producer and director (he finally accomplished his dream 🥹) and you are dating this young actor who just happens to be the star in Josh's next film.

You bring your boyfriend a lunch you prepared for the two of you to his trailer when oh no! You walk right in on your boyfriend having sex with his co-star!

Heartbroken, you run out of the trailer and into one of the dressing rooms inside the studio to have a good cry. You have to try to compose yourself before you go back out there in front of all those people, after all.

Luckily on your way there, you almost avoid the attention of others. All accept one, Joshua Washington. He follows you and knocks on the door, only hearing soft cries in response. So slowly, he open the door to see you curled up on one of the couches, face buried in your hands as you sob through your pain.

"Hey, little thing. What's wrong?"

He murmurs so sweetly as he approaches your side, kneeling down to your level. When you explain what happened, you keep your face covered the whole time, too embarrassed to reveal your identity to this man who cares to comfort you.

Josh isn't too shocked by this, as he witnesses cheating couples all the time in this industry. One of Hollywood's many sad truths. He let's out a sigh, and places a hand upon your back to rub smooth and circles over its surface. That's when he looks down at the lunch basket you prepared.

"Look, I haven't had my lunch yet. And I assume you must be hungry as well. Why don't we go eat this in my office?"

"R-Really?"

"Of course. But you will have to remove your hands from your face first."

You realize that he is right. You cannot hide forever behind your trembling digits. Exhaling slowly, you remove your hands from your face to reveal what a horrible mess you really are.

Josh freezes, wide eyed, cheeks burning hot as a shade of pink tints them. Your eyes—your beautiful eye color enhanced by the tears in your eyes and the redness that fills the once white spaces all around. Wow, it's so breathtaking! And your red cheeks stained with wet mascara streaks as well as your cute red nose. It has his heart pounding!

He tries to push back those emotions bubbling within as well as how quickly his pants grew tight. You don't need that right now. You need a friend who is willing to listen to your troubles.

Though the next thing you both know, he's sitting in his leather chair at his desk—head lolled back, mouth agape, shirt pulled open with lipstick marks down his chest and stomach—with you bouncing your pain away on his aching cock. It's like medicine for the both of you, healing the parts of yourselves that are broken by fucking it all away.

Afterwards, you lay against his chest as you both eat the lunch you made, a blanket he had spread out upon the back of his couch now spread out over you both. As he eats his sandwich, he smiles down at you in his lap, hoping he was able to make you feel better.

He promises himself that he will do anything in his power to make you a star—a much bigger star than the two ungrateful assholes who hurt his new little sweetheart's heart. After all, now you are his—his to spoil in every way he can.

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[ceridescent]

leviathan of light: martini shot

➛ actress!wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: wrapping up the film shooting on a heart's day wouldn’t be your ideal course of action if you have plans with your loved ones. and so is a bullet vibrator in you when you're the star of the show. but as long as it's inconspicuous, it's no problem.

tags: bottom!wanda, top!reader, use of sex toy, semi-public, mommy kink, cunninglingus, hair pulling, & brief thigh riding.

word count: 2, 218

author’s note: here it goes!! first part of the series! i hope it's not hot enough you'd burn. :-)

part i of lush ministrations | series masterlist | main masterlist

the paintings adorning the vaulted ceiling, proof of faith and wars, encapsulating the sacrosanct space. the divinity of the cosmic beings, the galvanic echo of every worshiper who ever knelt before the cross, a prayer for every miracle. 

the whole crew of leviathan of light have gathered for the final shooting, excited spirits witnesses of the flamboyant setting, and none other than the two main stars — two goddesses molded into human forms, brazening each other accompanied by swords belted at their hips, prepared to swing with one mistake — fulfilling their roles as the camera rolls. 

you know a mistake occurs when the director scratches the front of his neck, a blush forming there. 

“do you really want me? or is this your way of getting back at my brother..?”

“CUT!”

no one notices the curl of your lip when the director yells the magic word, each and everyone filling the cathedral fixated over the two actors who are now having a small talk — one who provides encouragement, whilst the other spurting genuine apologies. “maximoff! what was that all about…”

“i’m so sorry, william. too much going in my head at-right now. can i take a 10? 15?” 

you intently listen to the hollywood star who simultaneously stammers and sighs, bringing her best doe-eyed face; the one that brings her everywhere. you try your best to mask a smirk. 

“of course, wanda.” an exchange of an understanding nod with a squeezed shoulder and you’re gritting your teeth, unable to take your sight off wanda’s exhale. pressing the circled button, you hear her faint yelp at the crawling pressure in her, each passing second sending her to hell. no one is supposed to touch her like that. 

wanda shuts her eyes tight whilst biting her lower lip, crouching as she grips her sides, causing the clingy man to help her stand, putting his hold around her hips to support her, touching her in places only you could. 

an uneasy groan erupts from your throat as you approach both co-workers, veiling your fume with a faux smile. “you okay?” placing your hands above where the director’s are, you tighten your grip around wanda’s waist to pull her over to your side. there’s nothing subtle with how you pushed his body away from her to stray, finalizing the interaction with, “i got her, thanks, william.”

“do you want to rest for a moment?”

miss hollywood nods her head, “yes but, maybe in the dressing room instead? i need-“

“say less, wanda. i’ll take care of you,” mumbling the last part is essential, shielding the exchange to the public eye. you escort wanda into the designated room, your arm possessively clutching her waist as she makes an effort to walk as normally as she does, declining the possible speculation that it’s like there’s something in between her thighs. 

“please baby!” wanda maximoff moans the moment you lock the door, pushing you against the nearest wall and latching her lips onto yours. she opens your mouth wide with her fingers, snatching them open, aiming to suck at your upper lip and catching your tongue with hers. 

it is rushing and sloppy, wanda pulling everything out of you because she needs you, because you’re the only one who could offer it to her. you’re smug about that, the provocation of wanda’s desperation to have you. with muffling moans and ragged breathing, you wrap your arms around wanda’s neck caressing the back of her hair as she grabs your sides, pulling your body towards her to grind on. 

a wanton whine escapes her throat, nipping at your lower lip, “please,” shock overwhelming her she bites your lip hard it bleeds. she licks it clean, and then swirls her tongue with yours, tasting the copper-metal of your blood. “plea-mmm!” a vibrating hum replaces wanda’s begging, her body quaking at the stimulation, falling over you. her grip tightens as another pulls at your hair. “let mommy come, baby-“

“hush, stay quiet. come here,” you prod sharply as you guide her face with your free hand and lock her lips with yours, an encompassing tender kiss. you allow wanda to hump her clothed pussy against your thigh, the firm grip on your sides never ending. a squeak escapes her when you flip places, pinning her against the wall. 

the actress shakes her head and pulls her face towards yours to capture the taste of your swelling lips but you are quick to pull away. you chuckle, “easy tiger,” pushing her shoulder blades to rest against the brick wall. wanda nods her head in defeat, “please, princess…” batting her doe-eyes. you chuckle, shaking your head. “that’s not gonna work with me.”

you breath hotly against her left cheek, “we have to be quick,” licking a stripe of her slender neck as you descend down towards the floor. “yes, baby. please me. please mommy,” wanda whimpers and tilts her head upwards, unbelievably enjoying how you handle her. she shivers as the shift of your hands deals with the buckle of the belt, undoing the zipper of her sponsored leather pants, the constricting clothes liberating her. 

you let out a teasing noise, “hmmm,” rubbing your thumb on her clitoris, grinning up at her as it sloshes. “you hear that?” you husk and lick your lips, imitating her desperate nods, batting your eyes innocently. “yeah?”

the actress clamps her teeth to her lower lip to suppress a loud moan threatening to spill your dirty little secret as you insert two fingers in her occupied pussy hole to release the bullet wedged in her ever since 7 in the morning. it’s half past 3 in the afternoon now, and there’s nothing more sensual than a domineering woman having all the patience in the world. 

you gasp, fake surprise coating your vicious, addicting face. “look what you were hiding in there, mommy!”

certainly drenched with wanda’s hot cum.

your frolic concludes as the hollywood star pushes your face against her pussy, your reflexes kicking in to lick her clean with your tongue. 

“yes!” wanda hisses, grinding herself over to you. forcing her hips to plant themselves against the brick wall, “impatient twat,” you mumble, the vibration reminding the hollywood actress who’s barely keeping it together — hand against her mouth — of the toy nestled inside her warmth on set the whole time. you pocket the toy, bringing both of your hands to focus holding her thighs in place. 

you refuse to tease wanda any longer, aware of her sensitive body caused by your amusement. watching the renowned wonder actress (derived from wonder woman) struggle reciting the most basic lines, and then enacting them in awe-striking emotions whilst you play with the remote control’s buttons, purposely pressing the highest setting when she was to do something elaborate. thus why miss hollywood deserves her awaiting release before the whole crew comes knocking down the dressing room. 

“all the things i want to do to you…” she heaves as she alternates between caresses on your crown and pulling at your mane. you could only hum, lapping at her juices, drinking her in for your own pleasure. wanda’s hot cum drips straight through your welcoming mouth, the scent of butter and almond filling your nostrils. 

flicking the tip of your tongue against the actress’ sensitive nub, you press your thumbs on her fleshy inner thigh, digging your nails into it to form red crescent marks. wanda’s legs quiver at the pain, a loud moan echoing inside the dressing room. 

“mommy can’t take it anymore, prin-!” a high-pitched keen comes out and no matter how still she makes herself to be you know she can’t prolong it any longer. “do it for me then.”

being stared at by someone above you — beneath you — is a privilege so thrilling you’d be nailed at the cross for it. notably by the most gorgeous actress of the nation, wanda maximoff desperate to rut into your mouth. a moan can’t be helped, the brief cherished moment of having the biggest star — revered by many, applauded by the entirety of the land — her sweet and tangy, her slick and leaking cum. 

your scalp burns from wanda’s fingernails scraping you as you fulfill your duty of satiating her, the warmth of her pussy slipping off your lips. you protest with a cry, latching your mouth back in her pussy, throbbing she is, sucking her clitoris getting to the pulse, quicker and quicker coming undone. 

“mommy, mmm”

“come on, come on princess,” wanda encourages you, sucking her hard and wanton, the thought of her coming in your mouth is so intense the need becomes primal. “fuck, mommy, fuckkk,” your muffled curses sends wanda over the edge—

she’s riding your face now, your head bobbing up and down at the movement, every sip and slurp messing your face. incoherent promises and assurances coaxes out of her awful, dirty mouth, coming apart onto you. 

wanda maximoff, professional as she is, typically an expert in keeping herself hushed in public spaces, especially on set in the middle of the day, howls blatantly like a wolf; hitting her head against the brick wall when she lolled it back, the clutch on your head so airtight you had to pull away from her pussy and bite her thigh. “what the fuck!”

you keep your hands holding her legs because sooner or later she’ll collapse, and you don’t want to be trapped under her. 

“we’re never doing this again.”

a breathless chuckle flows out of you, catching your breath as you laid on the floor on your back. you glance across the actress and find her ass sitting on the floor with her back slumped against the naughty brick wall, her pants untucked. 

“agreed,” you start now that you’re recovering your breath. “i would’ve teased you more if this wasn’t a quickie.” you stand up with your supporting palms, copying wanda’s position although without the wall. 

“you’re dead when i get you home,” she barks, giving you the eye. you tilt your head and give her an eye smile, amused at her habits. 

so you do what you know best. 

you get on all fours, crawling onto the space in between her spread legs. you get close enough to feel the hitch of her stuttering breath, “i’m not coming into your humble abode then,” biting your lip as you stare at her blown out green obs, down to her lipstick-smudged lips, and back again at her siren eyes. 

giggling as you get on your feet by wanda’s desperation to capture your lips again, “how long it’s been?” you leave her hanging, pacing around the dressing room until you find your half-empty apple juice box. you take a long sip, replenishing your system, lounging on the leather chair’s arm closest to the star. “seven.”

“good,” wanda lolls her neck to the side, momentarily closing her eyes. “then i have eight minutes left to ‘take a break’ before i get back on set, empty-handed.”

“that’s funny,” sarcastically, you reply, “i thought it was your pussy that was full.”

“y/n…don’t get started,” she warns, exhaustion and titillation coating her sweet face. 

you huff and surrender, putting your arms in the air for great measure, “okay, alright, i’ll stop,” hopping off the leather chair and going over to the vanity mirror. “then we should get you touched up so they wouldn’t notice-“

“y/n?” wanda coughs, the sounds of shifting movement indicate she’s fixing her costume. 

“yeah, wanda?” you pick the bobbi brown full coverage face brush and look at her from the far end of the dressing room. 

“do you have a date tonight?”

“what,” you chuckle, “you asking me out?”

“o-of course not, cocksure. i was just curious,” her voice drifts and for a moment there’s silence, until wanda rises up from the floor. 

“well i’m-“

“never mind i asked. could you send that blue-haired girl here? i have to ask her about the method she uses when she does her foundation trick…”

“let’s get you a touch up first, yeah? there’s no rush.”

“i- of course, just that the time-“

“don’t worry about it, miss hollywood,” you reassure with a tease, squeezing her stiff shoulders as she sits down in front of the vanity mirror. “you’re so flushed, they’d think you’ve ran a marathon,” you chuckle, dabbing the brush onto the finishing powder. 

wanda grins, her lust-filled gaze focused on you. “it’s scientifically proven that you burn as many calories when you go to the gym.”

“you dork,” you shake your head, reapplying makeup to return to her fresh, doll-like appearance. “it’s alright,” she whispers, “i’ll just tell them i’ve done 100 push-ups.”

“vouch for me?”

a thick pause allows you to stare at wanda’s still green eyes, her pupils far from dwindling any time soon. it was always like that, anyway. you don’t miss the slight tilt of her head, a signal for her curiosity. 

you grin, subtly sultry, mostly taunting. “of course, miss maximoff. you were doing a hundred push ups, while i watched sipping my apple juice, fantasizing on slurping you up instead.”

she slaps your shoulder playfully, “you’re coming home with me! whether you like it or not!” 

you wonder whether she’s playing or not by the smile on her face. after sex glow has never looked good on her. 

[buddierecs]

long (40k+ words) buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) by: HMSLusitania "an accident on a call leaves buck with custody of chris after eddie is... missing presumed. while they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite eddie's parents' best efforts -- a john doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home." word count: 44k important tags: presumed dead, grief, mourning, angst, amnesia, getting together across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by: catchingpapermoons "eddie gets buck to come to couples therapy with him." word count: 53k important tags: therapy, getting together, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, medding, idiots in love

little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: fake dating, idiots in love, mutual pining, miscommunication, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by: withmeornotatall "eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia" word count: 43k important tags: time loop, minor buck/natalia, heavy angst, eventual happy ending, weddings, love confessions i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe by: turningthepages "just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k important tags: married!buddie, amnesia, car accidents, hurt!eddie diaz, angst, hurt/comfort, future fic (they have 3 kids) tell me about despair by: hattalove "the entity often affectionately referred to as the unrepression fic." word count: 148k important tags: therapy, ptsd, heavy angst, communication, feelings realisation, friends to lovers, slow burn

ripples all the way down by: iriswests "christopher partakes in some parent trapping" word count: 57k important tags: jealous!evan buckley, jealous!eddie diaz, slow burn, miscommunication, happy ending peace in austin by: angalwithwingsoffire "the story of evan buckley, losing all hope in la after the lawsuit and moving to texas to join the 126." word count: 156k important tags: post-lawsuit, 911 lone star characters, angst, evan buckely leaves the 118, depression, ptsd, emotional hurt hold steady, hold steady by: thetalee "after eddie's bombshell announcement on christmas, buck runs away and finds himself back on his first day on the job. a time-travel fix-it fic of sorts, ft. a stranger that totally just wants to help, honest." word count: 172k important tags: time travel, time loops, supernatural elements au, slow burn, shannon diaz lives, hurt!evan buckley, temporary character death

the persistence of memory by: withmeornotatall "buck gets shot, eddie has to keep reliving the day until he can figure out what the universe is trying to tell him" word count: 58k important tags: time loop, eddie diaz pov, angst, hurt/comfort, temporary character death, gay disaster!eddie diaz, make outs, gun violence heart of flowers/heart of gold by elvensorceress "after nearly losing each other, buck and eddie find their way to each other and their family’s happily ever after." word count: 144k important tags: season 4, friends to lovers, mutual pining, evan buckley takes care of eddie diaz, demisexual!eddie diaz, gun shot wounds you can tell everybody this is your song (series) by: woodchoc_magnum "it's not a date if chris is here with us." at that, buck's eyebrows flew up, and his face went pale. "a… date?" eddie nodded, a little nervously. "yeah. this is a date." word count: 640k important tags: romance fluff, boys in love, getting together, developing relationship, falling in love

boys of summer by: woodchoc_magnum "in which buck takes eddie on a summer road trip through the sierra nevada mountains, and they fall head over heels in love with each other" word count: 47k important tags: road trips, falling in love, boys falling in love, soft!buddie, family feels, team as family cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: marriage of convenience, parenthood, adoption, slow burn, miscommunication, family fluff, pining, oblivious!evan buckley, soft!buddie, friends to lovers

[ahotknife]

the lack of empathy i’m seeing in the commentary about the california fires is crazy… “now you have real problems” “you can afford to rebuild” “these things happen” do people not understand that if we do not stop the infighting we will never be able to push back at our real enemy… do people understand that the people who are losing everything are not all millionaires… everyone’s becoming so mean and so soulless and they’re proud of it. they are proud to be hateful and cold and care not a wit for their fellow man when disaster strikes. we will most likely all be victims of a climate disaster in our lifetimes. should these smartasses lose their homes and their life savings i bet they will be seeking empathy, not a snide attempt at a reality check. an entire city burning to the ground is sad, tragic, terrible for our citizens and our environment no matter how you may feel about “hollywood”. it’s genuinely very upsetting to see

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Thomas King, Edith Payne, and Charlotte Rowland (1950s Hollywood AU)

But Theresa King, just like Marilyn, is more than that. She’s an actress who can act fucking circles around her co-stars who are decades older than her yet no wiser. She cares about her craft, regardless of what people think of her.

So she’ll become a cat with nine lives. She’ll remake herself over and over again, whatever it takes, evolve and adapt with the industry, and prove them all wrong that she was ever 'just' a pretty face.

She’s good at that sort of thing. She’s good at adapting, at becoming what people want, or rather, to be honest, proving that what she is is what they want. It's how she survives. It's how she rules. None of her co-stars are as popular as her and they know it and they hate it but she revels in her reign at the top.

But behind the scenes, it’s a whole different ball game.

Here, at her mansion, at her home, this place that no preacher would ever condone, Theresa and Thomasin vanish into the guise of something truer. A woman who does not drape herself in gowns and diamonds, but men’s suits and top hats. Sure, she doesn’t mind a bit of sparkle on her lapel- who wouldn’t- but she’s still far more masculine than any who see her on the screen would give her credit for.

Here, she is not a queen, but a King. The ruler of her kingdom. The emperor reigning from above.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, rather be famous (than righteous or holy)

I was Cleopatra, I was young and an actress

When you knelt by my mattress and asked for my hand

Well, I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant

Damn your wife, I'd be your mistress just to have you around

And while the church discouraged any lust that burned within me

Yes, my flesh it was my currency, but I held true

I won't be late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life

-The Lumineers, Cleopatra

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @tw0-ravens @dont-offend-the-bees

@dear-monday @rexrevri @idliketobeatree

@tumblerislovetumblerislife @shaylogic

@laiqualaurelote @artemisadore @birdnonsense

@qwanderer @every-moment-a-different-sound

@carebeardean @tragedy-machine

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hi sorry if this seems annoying!😭 can you do Ben and Jeff and masky with a newbie scared child reader like when they first saw them they where shaking in there boots? And just very scared of everyone😭 I hope you have an amazing day remember your worth it and im proud of youu!<3

Don't worry, you aren't annoying! Also, thank you for your kind words <33

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BEN

The first time BEN saw you was to bring you your uniform, as per his job as the supplier and technology manager

You were with sally, she was helping you get set up

When sally sees ben, she rushes over to him and asks if he wants to do a tea party with her and her new friend

He shakes his head "another time, sal"

Sally pouts while he walks over to put your uniform on your bed

"These are your uniform clothes. You wear them when you're working, especially if you're out on a mission. You're young, so you shouldn't have much work outside of the manor. Just keep them clean and ironed and you'll be good"

You stand there, looking up at him, shaking and furrowing your brows worriedly

He raises a brow and puts a hand on his hip "can you even manage a yes sir or a thank you? What a dope" he mutters before turning and leaving your room

After that he doesn't talk to you too often unless you talk to him

Which happens around 3 days later

"Mr. Ben can you help me...?"

"With what" he asks, not even pausing his game

"I don't know how to wash my clothes...im sorry" you whisper in a meek voice

He lets out a biiiiig sigh and stands up "alright, come on. Ask Tim for help with your clothes from now on. He's taller so he can actually reach the detergent. And he's also better at taking care of kids" he says as he walks downstairs to the laundry room

You follow behind him "im sorry.... mr. ben?"

"Hm?"

"Whos tim?"

Another biiiiig sigh

Jeff

Pretty much all of the kids were scared first time they saw jeff 💀

So no one was shocked when you reacted that way

After getting fairly acquainted with some other children, brian and liu, you mostly hung around them

One night however, there was a small party at the manor

Jeff, being the chronic hollywood undead listener of the house, of course is there

The party is being kept to the second level of the manor, in one of the living room areas, and is more so just a loud hangout than a party

The creeps partaking are listening to loud rock music, drinking beer and playing cards

You had gotten lost trying to find your room and eventually wandered into the area the get together was happening in

"Dude what's that little kid doing here" one of the creeps asks

This makes jeff turn the music down and look over at you

He is still in his work uniform, his hair is a mess and he looks obviously annoyed that he's getting interrupted

"You're that new kid, aren't ya? What are you doing up isn't it bed time for you worms?" He asks, standing and putting his beer on the table

Seeing how much taller he is than you only adds to the already intense fear "im sorry..." you whimper

"Yeah, yeah, run off to your room, kid" he says, waving his hand in a dismissing tone

"I-i don't know where it is" you whisper

He groans and bends down to your height "ok kid, do you have a caretaker around here somewhere?"

You shake your head and back away from him nervously. His breath reeks of nicotine and alcohol, and it makes your nose burn

"Alright, come on" he says, standing and grabbing your hand, leading you all the way down to Slender's office

There, slender is able to help you get back to your room safely while jeff goes back to drinking and playing cards upstairs

Masky

He is someone that a lot of kids turn to when they're unsure

He's one of the designated caretakers of the manor, basically meaning he helps the little kids with whatever they need

He doesn't mind this, because he likes to keep busy

So you coming to him was something he was pretty used to

However what he wasn't exactly used to was how timid you were

There are a lot of anxious kids in the manor, but to get a new kid in the manor is rare so it's been a while since he's had to deal with a kid this anxious

You knock on his door, to which he answers

"Um are you Tim?" You ask, fidgeting with your fingers

"Yeah, what's wrong, kiddo?" He asks, trying to make himself seem less threatning

Your face lights up a little bit at seeing you got the room number right "ok, uh i was told that you could help me reach the food? Im sorry, i just need the goldfish and I'll be out of your way"

He raises a brow "goldfish? Kid, it's only nine a.m. Don't you want some breakfast instead?"

"No that's ok i just need the goldfish..." you whisper

He steps out of his room and beckons you to follow "come on, I'll make you some actual food. How do you feel about pancakes? Or do you want something else?"

You scramble to follow after him, as he takes really big steps "no, pancakes is ok"

You sit at the table while he cooks your pancakes, and when he is done he sets the plate down in front of you and goes to pour you some juice

"Thank you" you whisper, beginning to eat

"Don't be afraid to come get me if you need anything else" he says, heading back up to his room