#i do have a life and do touch grass believe it or not

[brotherwtf]

14. "Do you know that your eyes actually have three different colours?" "You're very close."

Aah this one for clegan? 🥺

God these bitches are going to be the end of me this will be so damn cute

now hold on just a damn minute chat bcs Austin's eyes are fucking BEAUTIFUL

----

Gale had known John for all of two weeks before he had claimed him as his "best friend".

It wasn't hard, really, John was quick to laugh and quicker to befriend, he talked easily and slung his arm around anyone's willing, or even unwilling, shoulder. Everybody liked Bucky. Not everyone liked Gale.

Gale was shy, kept to himself and did what he needed to get done and did it well, didn't care for the vices everyone else had to get through flight school. He was going to be a fighter pilot, only needed to care about himself and no one else.

But Bucky had completely turned that idea upside down, as he had done with most things in Gale's life. He whined and pouted when Gale told him he was training to fly alone, "what if I need your help while flying? I can't do that when you're in a fighter plane" John would pout and Gale just brushed him off, told him he would be fine, but then he was asked to fly a B-17 with John smiling cheekily in the copilots seat and he had been hooked ever since.

John had practically ripped him out of his shell, and he still found ways to be incredibly obnoxious. Like when he had dragged Gale to the outskirts of the Texas airbase because he "couldn't stand the stuffy weather anymore". When Gale pointed out the weather would stay the same John shrugged, told him it would probably be a little different, right? And of course, Gale begrudgingly followed him.

Now they were laying on their sides, facing each other while John talked mindlessly about his childhood, switching topics from baseball to the rinky dink jazz band he was in when he was twelve. Gale was content to listen, appreciated that John always seemed to fill the space. Even in the silence John seemed to be studying him, eyes flicking over Gale's face while he scrunched his eyebrows. He inched closer until their chests were touching, noses just inches from Gale's. It made Gale's heart pound, John was looking at him intently it almost made him dizzy.

"Did you know that your eyes are three different colors, Buck? I swear I see a new one every time I look," John asks, breathing out a heavy sigh that fans over Gale's face and causes him to almost shudder, even in the hot Texas sun.

"You're really close there, Bucky. And they're nothing special, just blue like my mama," Gale says and tries not to sound like he's gasping for air.

John leans even closer, tip of his nose brushing Gale's and Gale gasps, almost ripping the grass beneath him in the firm fistful he has.

"Nah it ain't just blue. Got some green and grey in there, it's all different shades of blue too. Some like the sky and some like Lake Michigan where I grew up. Damn, Buck, you've got the prettiest damn eyes I've ever seen," John says and his voice is almost a whisper, almost in awe at Gale's eyes.

"Ain't nothing special," Gale whispers and he foolishly lets his eyes slip down to John's parted lips. Dangerous, considering that his eyes are all that Johns looking at.

John notices the quiet flick down and smiles something lopsided, a rogue hand coming up to push a strand of hair that got dislodged by the wind from Gale's forehead.

"It's not just your eyes that are pretty, Buck. Got a fucking face like Lana Turner," John breathes and Gale find that he can't, his breath caught in his chest.

There's only an inch between their faces, and John closes it with ease, lips soft on Gales and Gale gasps, makes a startled noise before letting his shoulders relax and kissing John back. It's a simple press of lips but Gale's head spins. John's kissing him, he can't believe John's kissing him.

The hand that pushed away the wayward strand of hair cups Gale's face, smoothing over his cheekbone as he moves his lips against Gale's, still soft and tender but with the slightest suggestion of heat. Gale lets John take control, willing to just be a passenger for this experience instead of having to overthink every single move.

John pulls away with a slight wet pop, eyes trained on Gale's lips when all he could think about was his eyes just a moment ago. Gale holds onto John's wrist and presses their foreheads together, sighing something deep and heavy.

"Is this okay, Buck?" John asks and Gale nods against his forehead.

"Better than okay, Bucky. Can't believe it took us this long to do that," Gale whispers and John just smiles before meeting his eyes and kissing him again.

[magniloquent-raven]

life's what you make it

@tommykinardweek Day 1: Coming Out

CW: descriptions of animal abuse & pet death

(also on ao3)

When Tommy was nine his father bought a lanky Rottweiler with paws too big for his skinny legs. “He’ll be useful when he fills out a bit,” was all his dad said about it, with a chuckle and a backhanded slap against Tommy’s chest. Rotties are loyal, obedient working dogs. Guard dogs.

His dad named the dog Budweiser after one too many. In retrospect, he picked the first thing he saw to get Tommy to shut up about what they were going to call him, but at the time Tommy thought it was a great idea. After all, the dog was his Bud. (His Budweiler. It took three days for his dad to get sick of that joke.)

A week after he came into their home Tommy’s father nailed down a stake in the front yard. Bought a chain to clip to Bud’s collar. And he scoffed at Tommy’s whining about how sad Bud looked out there, all alone. “It’s a fucking dog, Tom, it’s not sad.”

But Tommy smushed his face against the window to watch him rest his blocky head on his too-big paws, and he saw him sigh. A big gusty sigh that moved his whole body.

Arguing with his dad about it didn’t change anything. The stake stayed. The dog stayed outside, where animals belong.

“Wouldn’t have bought the damn thing if I knew you were gonna be such a girl about it,” his dad muttered into his beer.

And that was that.

But Bud was always digging up his stake. Tugging at his collar. Running in circles around the yard, getting tangled up in his restraints. The first time they came home to dirt patches and overturned sod Tommy’s dad chucked his shoe at the dog, irate about how much it was going to cost to clean up. Tommy spent the rest of the afternoon outside, quietly raking up the chunks of grass and taking breaks to sit with Bud, petting his short, bristly fur.

Locked in the bathroom, he would tear up magazines. Left in the backyard he’d paw endlessly at the patio door. Then he started running away. The first time it happened Tommy was in hysterics. He cried his eyes out, and shut himself in his room where his father wouldn’t see.

It didn’t matter how many afternoons he’d spent outside feeding Bud bits of leftover lunch meat from his sandwiches, trying to tell him he was supposed to stay in the front yard, if he was a good dog he’d stay in the front yard. Explaining to him over and over again that he was here to protect them—his job was to scare away Mormons and the tax man, whoever he was—didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

After two years he started to believe his father. Bud was just a bad dog. A stupid dog. Defective. They kept him chained up in the front yard, and Tommy stopped spending time with him beyond giving him a pat or two on his way inside. He was too old to keep pretending that the dog understood what he was saying anyways. And he had better things to do.

When Tommy was thirteen, Bud slipped out of his collar again. It was old news, and Tommy was past freaking out. He’d always find Bud running off down the street, chasing squirrels or trying to wriggle under the neighbours’ fence to play with their fat little Bulldog. Sometime he’d be at the house four doors, laying very very still while the five-year-old who lived there played his back like a drum.

It should’ve been just another day. “Your dumbass dog got loose again,” his dad yelled from the couch the second Tommy walked in. Standard. Usually a twenty minute detour, and he figured he’d still have time to get his homework done before dinner.

He didn’t.

Bud was two streets over, breathing shallow, bleeding into the gutter.

And Tommy watched him die.

He didn’t sit with him, didn’t touch him, didn’t have words. He just stood there, pale and shaken, full of something too cold to be panic and tasting bile on his tongue.

It was his fault. He went to bed before sunset, staring at nothing, knowing that he was to blame. Feeling it.

His father told Tommy the city would take care of the body. He was roadkill, they had people for that. Good riddance to a financial burden. All Tommy could do was nod along dumbly.

Five years later he enlisted. It was the adult thing to do, his only option when he was told to grow up and make something of himself.

It would take him years to realize he didn’t like what he’d made. The person he saw in the mirror looked more like his father every day, and the man who raised him looked less like himself than he ever had. After two divorces, forty years of chain-smoking, three bypass surgeries, and just plain old time, he was hollowed out and had nothing to replace the emptiness with.

They see each other once a year, on Thanksgiving, and the visits get shorter and shorter. There’s only so much of the same tired speeches Tommy can take. He knows his father’s Reasons Why Marriage Is A Sham by heart, so well he could act it out if pressed, cadence and all.

Maybe some of it stuck deeper than he thought. A tired old man’s legacy, the voice in the back of Tommy’s head telling him it’s not worth it, none of it’s worth it.

His father’s influence might explain why he got cold feet and ran out on his fiancee. It’s as good an explanation as any, seeing as he’s still trying to figure out what the fuck even happened.

One minute he’s picking out napkins and listening to her plan their future, the next…

He’s got a decent little place to himself, at least. He got lucky there. No roommates, no rowdy army guys packed into a barrack that smells like the world’s evilest gym sock. Just him. Alone.

He thinks about getting a dog.

It’s fine, coming home to an empty bungalow. Living off of ready-made TV dinner meals like some kind of sad cliche. Work is great, the guys—and Hen—are great. He works as many shifts as his body can take, goes out for drinks with Howie and blames the beer when he sits a little too close in the booth, throwing an arm over the back and letting the booze push them into an almost-embrace.

The warmth doesn’t linger long enough to keep him from curling in on himself at night, hugging his pillow.

He doesn’t tell anyone besides his neighbour, Arthur, that he’s considering checking out animal shelters. The guy isn’t his friend, exactly, but there isn’t anyone else he can ask to pet-sit while he’s at work.

They chat sometimes. He’s a little older than Tommy, and somehow broader in the shoulders. He used to work construction, apparently. Now he’s living off workers’ comp. Tommy doesn’t know what happened, just that he’s in a wheelchair sometimes, and since he lost his job he’s started growing his hair. It’s shoulder-length now, dark and wavy.

“My sister didn’t put you up to this did she? I’ve got hobbies and shit, I swear. I’m fine,” he says when Tommy mentions he might need help feeding a dog in the near future. He’s not entirely sure how serious the accusation is. Tommy errs on the side of glib.

“No, I’m just too cheap to hire a professional.”

Arthur grins, the tan lines around his eyes disappearing into crow’s feet. “I can respect that.”

Months go by, and he’s still thinking about it. Weighing the pros and cons. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s not like he can’t afford it, and he can just drop the dog back off at a shelter if it doesn’t work out. It would be nice to have a reason to go on walks, or run, if the dog is high-energy. Plus, less chance of someone breaking in and making off with his stuff.

Bud never quite lived up to his potential as a guard dog—an impersonal way to put it, but it's the way he's forced himself to look at it over the years—but his dad wasn’t wrong about dogs having their uses.

There’s no particular reason for it when he takes a different route home after work one day. It was a normal day, normal calls. They pulled a kid out of a collapsed playground structure. Checked out an apartment after someone burned their popcorn. He chimed in with a joke or two when Hen and Chim started ribbing each other over lunch. No one died, nothing exploded.

Then he thought about going home to an empty house again and…

He’s pulling into the parking lot of the closest shelter thirty minutes later.

The girl behind the desk is sweet. She’s maybe twenty, and barely eye-level with Tommy’s collarbone, dressed in a purple hoodie and sneakers with a name tag pinned to her shirt that says Katie. There’s a peeling dolphin sticker next to the K.

“Did you have anything specific in mind?” she asks him, a big smile on her face that he’s sure is part of her job but looks genuine anyways.

When he pictured getting a dog the image in his head was always just… Bud. Black and brown, the tiny spots above his eyes, short bristly fur and somehow always drooling a little bit. He didn’t have his heart set on a Rottie, exactly, it was just all he could see himself getting.

He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “No.” Then he pauses, eyes scanning the white tile walls behind her. There are so many brightly coloured posters tacked up on it they all sort of blend together. “I work a lot, if that’s a problem.”

She shakes her head, her expression softening to something sympathetic. “No, not a problem, we just need to find the right match for your lifestyle. Certain pets need more attention, of course, but I’m sure we’ll find someone for you.”

“Right.”

There are so many options. When she leads him into the back room a few of the little dogs start yapping. One that looks like a bathmat with beady little eyes runs in circles making more noise than a creature that small should. Another one with curly fur and white fluff around its ears barks so hard its whole body bounces with the effort.

“They’re just excited,” Katie says with a sheepish laugh.

The whole long room is lined with plexiglass alcoves, and smells overwhelmingly of dog. A black lab paws at its window as they walk past. A lot of the animals are furry lumps with their backs turned, hidden in the corner of their enclosure.

“Did you want a minute alone with them?”

Tommy blinks at her, feeling a little out of his depth.

“I think it’s easier to find out if it’s a good match if it’s just you and the critters, you know? Just come get me if you take a liking to any of them, and we can see how you do with face-to-face time.”

“Oh…kay.”

She pats his elbow and gives him another sunny smile before heading back up front.

He wanders up and down the length of the room for a while, stopping in front of every dog that demands his attention. They’ve all got cards in the upper corner of their windows. Name, age, sex, and breed. Some of them have little notes about special needs. There’s a diabetic Poodle mix that huffs at him when he walks past. A Yorkie with a limp and a mean growl.

Around halfway through his second loop around he notices a fluffy white dog snoozing on her back. She’s a medium size, no listed breed. And she’s running in her sleep. Paws waving in the air, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

He chuckles.

According to her card, her name is Periwinkle—which Tommy wrinkles his nose at, what even is that—she’s two years old, and…oh. She’s deaf and blind. Probably not the best pick for him then. He already had doubts about how much time and attention he’d be able to give a dog, he doesn’t want to bite off more than he can chew here.

She snuffles, nose twitching. It’s stupidly adorable.

“She’s a sweet girl.”

“Jesus Christ—” Tommy startles, hands flying up to his chest where he presses a palm to his racing heart as he whirls around.

“Sorry!” Katie laughs, clearly more amused than apologetic. She clears her throat and schools her expression. “Sorry, it’s just you’ve been in here a while, I thought I’d check in.”

“It’s fine.” He smooths some wrinkles out of his shirt, trying to act like it was his intention all along.

“So, Periwinkle?”

Tommy can’t help but purse his lips. “What kind of name is that, anyway?”

“Oh, she was part of a whole litter that we took in, they were all named after flowers. Periwinkles are pretty little blue ones.”

“Ah…”

“She’s the last one we have left, all her brothers and sisters were adopted as puppies.”

Okay, well. She didn’t need to make him feel bad, that’s just uncalled for.

She’s not what he was looking for. Not the kind of dog that scares away intruders, or anyone, really, she looks like a marshmallow with floppy ears. And he’s not sure he feels qualified to care for a dog with disabilities, she needs someone loving and attentive and patient.

He opens his mouth to say as much, to say she probably wouldn’t be a good fit, and list off all the things he told himself were the reasons he’s here in the first place. No words come out.

“Would you like to meet her properly?”

“…Sure.”

She has him wait in a little side room down the hall. There’s a rickety folding chair in the corner that he eyes but doesn’t sit in, instead choosing to stand in against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest. The knot of anxiety in his gut is ridiculous, and stupid, and he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but he can’t stop shaking his leg and digging his nails into the meat of his forearm.

There’s very little in the room to distract him. Apart from the chair, there’s an empty steel bowl, a grey mat, and a basket with a couple knots of rope, a tennis ball that’s seen better days and a rubber ring that looks oddly untouched compared to everything else.

He’s probably only waiting for a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been an eternity when the door finally clicks open and Katie sticks her head in.

“Okay, here we are!” She sidles into the room, guiding Periwinkle by a short leash. Her posture is alert, tail up, sniffing the air. “I’ve got some treats in my pocket if you want to give her some. Dogs are not above taking bribes.”

Tommy lets out a little breath of a laugh.

She approaches him slowly, squinting milky blue eyes. Now that he can see her properly, he notices the yellowing bits around her ears and under her chin. Part Golden Retriever, maybe. She’s got the face shape for it.

She pokes his shin with her nose. He’s not sure if she bumped into him or if it was on purpose until she does it again, eagerly sniffing at the leg of his jeans.

He came here right from work, he can’t imagine he smells very good. Then again, she is a dog.

“I, uh…” He glances from her to Katie. His arms are still folded across his chest, and he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

Katie pulls a little bone-shaped cookie from her pocket and offers it to him, eyebrows raised and her smile encouraging. “Just make sure you don’t make any sudden moves, okay? Be gentle with her.”

He nods, and very carefully squats down to her level. He gets the treat about four inches from Periwinkle’s face and she starts wriggling up a storm, tail wagging, loose fur flying, snuffling reaching a fever pitch as she noses around trying to locate the food.

It’s impossible not to grin at her excitement. Affection blooms between his ribs when she bumps into his thumb and gives it a test lick. It doesn’t take her long to devour her treat once she finds it, and she cleans the crumbs from his fingers when it’s gone.

Seemingly satisfied with his tribute, she lays down on his feet. Then rolls against his shins in a warm fuzzy heap of loose limbs, clumsily pawing at him until he reaches out a tentative hand and runs his fingers through the fluff on her chest.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say she likes you!” Katie beams.

“Yeah.” Tommy’s voice cracks, embarrassingly, suddenly emotional. He swallows past a lump in his throat.

He stays crouched awkwardly, unable to shift into a more comfortable position even when his knees start to ache. Periwinkle breathes evenly, seemingly content to rest on his boots while he rubs her belly and makes stilted small talk with Katie.

She’s more than happy to pick up the conversational slack, giving him all sorts of tips about what’s good to feed pets and how to train a dog that can’t see or hear you. There’s so much information, he’s sure he won’t retain it all.

By now Katie has migrated to the folding chair, she’s seated with her legs crossed at the knee and talking with her hands. “Now, I recall you saying you work a lot, but is your schedule consistent? It’s important for a dog like Periwinkle to have predictable routines.”

“Yeah, pretty consistent.” Monotonous is the word that comes to mind, and he cringes away from it. He likes his job. His job isn’t the problem. “I work long hours though. Sometimes days at a time.”

Katie’s forehead pinches at that. “Okay. Do you have anyone to look after her while you’re gone? A family member? Girlfriend?”

His stomach lurches. “No.” He digs his fingertips deeper into thick fur, feeling her heartbeat under his hand. She’s calm. Relaxed. He should fucking relax. He doesn’t. “I had a fiancee,” comes spilling out of his mouth, “things ended…weird. I just don’t think I’m ready to date again so soon, y’know?” He forces an airy laugh. There’s no good reason for him to have explained all that, or for it to have felt like a lie.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Tommy lets out a slow breath. “I asked my neighbour if he’d help out. With the dog.”

“Oh, great!”

She moves on easily, but he doesn’t. The moment sticks under his skin, like a splinter he can’t scratch out. It aches, dull but present, for the rest of the conversation, and beyond that. While he signs adoption papers, when he walks out the door, Periwinkle’s leash in hand, all through the quiet drive home. She sits in the passenger seat, and he cracks the window just enough for her to stick her nose out while he pretends to listen to the radio.

He has a dog now.

The next week or so is a bit of a mess. He buys everything he thinks he’ll need, and probably goes overboard. Dog-proofing his house is trial-and-error, Periwinkle keeps finding new things to chew on, and he never realize he had so much clutter until there was a blind dog bumping into things all the time.

It’s beautiful chaos and he loves it. She falls asleep on his lap when he watches TV, and he gets stuck there for hours. It turns out she hates peanut butter, and when he tries to fill a chew toy with it for her to play with she only picks it up long enough to jerk her head and toss it across the room.

Katie told him touch was important when bonding with a blind and deaf dog, and he figured it would be a slow process, easing Periwinkle into her new surroundings, showing her that he can be trusted. They have hit a few bumps (no pun intended) getting her used to navigating his house, but amazingly she seems to have no reservations about him specifically. She’s glued to his hip nearly every moment he’s home, pressed up against his leg when he’s standing at the kitchen counter, head on his thigh when he’s on the couch, always nearby.

Thankfully she likes Arthur nearly as much as she likes Tommy. Possibly because he always has a piece of jerky for her when he comes over. Which is understandable on her part.

Three weeks after he brought her home, he finds Arthur sitting on his porch with Wink in his lap and looking mildly sheepish.

“She wouldn’t let me go home.”

Tommy grins. “Want a beer?”

“Please.”

He thinks they might be friends after that. He wants them to be friends after that.

It didn’t bother him so much before, that they were just casual acquaintances. Tommy’s got plenty of acquaintances, and it suits him fine. But one evening with the dog between them leaves Tommy with a strange ache he can’t place. The next day all he thought about was the dying glow from the sun catching on deep-set brown eyes, sparkling with mirth. That adolescent desperation he tried to stomp down whenever he made Arthur laugh, that voice that babbled do it again, like me, like me, please—

It's not until Sal catches him grinning down at his own hands and punches his arm, crowing “Well hot damn, look who finally moved on. What’s her name?” that things start to fall into place.

A lot of things.

He just barely manages to excuse himself without throwing up, and makes it to the bathroom just in time to burst into tears.

Once the dam cracks, he’s helpless against the tide. His lungs burn from the effort it takes to keep from sobbing audibly. Chest heaving slow, painfully, methodically slow, he buries his face in his hands and cries, cries, lets snot dribble down his wrist and doesn’t care, squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees stars and still the tears drip down his nose. It hurts, and all he can do is hang on, hoping the bells don’t go off, hoping no one walks in or wonders where he’s gone.

He’s so stupid for not seeing it. There’s a whole well of secrets he’s been keeping from himself and he feels like he’s been pushed into it to drown.

Does anyone else know? Has anyone figured it out before him? It’s not like he’s never had anyone make dumb jokes, all of Sal’s favourite jokes seem to boil down to hey, you’re gay. Kids in school would make fun of him for getting weepy about shit, or talking with his hands too much, or being too picky about girls, but…

Christ, he’s so stupid.

Maybe everyone knows, and always has. Fear grips him tight, sharp fingers grabbing a fistful of his guts. Has everyone been laughing at him behind his back. Every time he makes a dumb comment about not getting what the big deal is about a pretty girl, or makes excuses about another breakup.

Oh God, does his father know?

His father can never know.

His stomach heaves again, and he tastes bile.

It’s unclear how long he’s in that bathroom, hazy, knees buckling under the weight of his whole life turning on its head and hitting him at once. He splashes water on his face to rinse off the snot and tears, but it does nothing for the blotchy pink around his nose and eyes.

He spends the rest of his shift jumpy and distracted.

For the first time in weeks he’s hesitant to go home, but he doesn’t want to impose on Arthur any more than he already has.

Arthur’s on his porch again, reading a book and petting Wink. She perks up when Tommy’s truck pulls into the driveway. He’s not entirely sure how she always knows it’s him. Could be a scent thing. Or maybe she can feel the vibrations coming off his engine. Whatever it is, it’s comforting to know someone’s always gonna be happy to see him.

The steering wheel creaks in his grip, and an itch builds behind his eyes. He takes a moment to blink it away and compose himself, but Arthur still shoots him an odd look as he approaches the house.

Great.

“Bad day?”

Tommy shrugs. “It was fine.”

Wink trots down the ramp he replaced the porch steps with last week, meeting him halfway to bump her forehead against his knee.

The ache in his chest twists around his heart.

“Mhm,” Arthur hums. He’s in his chair today, and Tommy absently watches the muscles in his forearm flex as he turns. It takes his brain a second to catch up to what he’s doing, and he jolts, tearing his gaze away. “That’s what I always tell people too.”

Tommy bites his tongue. There’s a barb on the end of it, and the taste of iron in the back of his throat. He’s too tired to start an argument over nothing. And he knows he’d regret it later.

He bends down to pet the top of Wink’s head and lets Arthur leave without another word.

He smells like burnt sugar and cinnamon soap, and Tommy holds his breath just to stop trying to inhale every trace he left in his wake.

It really is like that, huh. He really does…

Three fingers of whiskey later he still feels like crawling out of his own skin.

He’s got the news running in the background. All his comfort things feel dangerous tonight. He can’t be sure he won’t put on his favourite movie and discover he only liked it because he was wildly attracted to the leading man and had no idea this whole time. He’s terrified of finding out anything else about himself, but it’s left him twitchy and bored and mostly alone with his own thoughts.

Wink had taken up residence in her usual place, head resting on his knee, but as the evening went on she got up and re-positioned. Now she’s sitting in his lap, leaning against his chest and snuffling into his shirt.

It’s the closest thing to a hug he’s gotten in a while, and it breaks him a little bit.

He wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the fluff around her neck.

“I think I’m gay,” he mumbles into her fur.

Nothing happens. The world doesn’t end.

He breathes. He’s going to be okay.

[analtbeast]

Honestly tempted to do a "post everyday until Birdsong acknowledges the callout" so that anyone searching for their art here will see what they've done. But idk how TOS would feel about that. It would all be the truth so???

[chowtrolls]

you know, I am many things; exhausted, overworked, verbose, emotionally distant, an asshole at times. but at least i'm not the kind of major fucking asshole who blasts people's personal arguments and strifes in public for everyone and their mother to see? Dude straight up what the fuck? To namedrop me and claim you deserved better?

[theflyingfeeling]

I deserve better I deserve better I deserve better

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Never in a million years I would have expected to be answered about a toxic behaviour with "I’m not ready to talk about it. There’s very complicated feelings that come from many and very complicated sources and are extremely difficult to explain"

Amazing, just peak comedy there 10/10

Do you hear that? It's the circus calling you to return

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

rating different responses to telling someone i’m polyamorous / dating multiple people

“oh… but how does that work?” a little annoying but usually comes from a place of genuine confusion or curiosity. 6/10

“but isnt that cheating?” no. 2/10

“so who’s your favourite partner?” believe it or not i dont have one, and even if i did have a fave it’d be shitty to say it out loud. 3/10

“oh sweet me too” FUCK YEAH 10/10

“can i join” well i barely know you so no. ranges from 2/10 to 4/10 depending on who’s asking

“woah so you’re like, an ot3 in real life” fuck your fandom shit. touch grass. 1/10

“i could never do polyamory” you’d think this is a perfectly fine thing to hear until you get it from EVERY FUCKING PERSON. 3/10

“thats cool” hell yeah it is. 9/10

“you'll get married and find the one eventually” fuck you ive already found the several and amatonormativity can go give birth to a cactus out of its asshole. 0/10

“so how do you guys break up” and we’re back with another well meaning question. if you are familiar with among us then that’s your answer. 5/10

“like sister wives” absolutely not. wildly different. 1/10

“rent must be way easier” monogamy? in this economy? yeah you have a point. 7/10

“huh i never thought of that, maybe i should become poly/open up my relationship” go nuts!! but be cautious as it could fuck up any present monogamous relationship you have, make sure to communicate clearly & respect boundaries. 6/10

“damn you must have so many threesomes/orgies” i mean yeah but also thats not how you start a conversation. 3/10

“oh that must be nice, having so many people who love you and you care about” awww thank you. it really, really is. 10/10

“like mormons” die. -10000/10

[godslittlesadge]

ddude post that spawned in my feed reminded me of the annoying ass moral highground im better than you because i interact with more intellectual media in a more intellectual way / because i have a job / because im not a freak era that tumblr was in between 2020 - beginning of 2023. glad that we're mostly over with that but im sending very powerful "you're so annoying and i dont like you" rays at whoever was involved in that

[tetrisdotcom]

Hey, asking for my own comfort here, but do you ship and/or support incest or adult/minor ships? Because you reblogged that one post from bad-anti//ship-pos/ts, and I'd rather unfollow if that's the case

ive no idea what post youre talking abt but obvs not

[alltheirdamn]

Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole A/N: Y'all probably wouldn't believe me if I told you Apple by Charlie XCX inspired this random fic...but anyway, this one goes out to my sweet bb angel @lotusbxtch <3 thank you for always being my partner in crime in the late hours of the evening ilysm

Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Texas sun beat down on your skin as you rode through the acres of land—your land— stretching out before you. Passed down from generation to generation, this entire pasture of fields and wild barley was yours. After both of your parents died during a freak accident, you inherited the land and dealt with upkeep and farm animals as if it were your life. And it was your life. Every inch of this farmland was yours, no matter what anyone said. 

You pressed your heels into the side of your horse, Mac, and urged him further down through the tall grass. The summer hadn’t been kind to the fields, the grass yellowing in most places, but what would you do about it? Tell the sun to stop shining? All you could do was take care of the land and ensure nothing went wrong. The animals were taken care of, the wild wheat still grew strong in the outskirts past your tiny farm home, and you had enough money to put dinner on the table for yourself at the end of your night. 

No trouble at all. 

What was trouble, though, was Joel Miller riding his ass right down the edge of your land. The sun cast him in a dark silhouette as he rode closer, his broad body sitting tall on the back of his horse. You held back the reigns, shushing Mac gently as you slowed him to a trot, keeping a healthy distance from the insufferable man trespassing onto your fields. 

“Think y’got yourself a bit lost out here, Miller,” you hollered. 

Joel removed the black cowboy hat from his head; the grey hairs streaking through his curls shimmered in the sunlight as he swiped an arm over his sweaty forehead. Every inch of his skin was sunkissed and tan from hours under the sun, his greying beard patchy and well-kept despite his rugged exterior. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d even consider him attractive, but your irritation with him ran deeper than any other emotion. 

Staring up at you under thick brows, Joel quirked an amused grin and shrugged. 

“Ain’t lost at all, darlin’. S’my land out here.”

You steered Mac forward, keeping yourself parallel with Joel’s body. You weren’t intimidated by any man, let alone Joel Miller. He may have a few decades on you, but that didn’t matter. The Miller family had always been a problem. For generations, they feuded with your family over acres of land that stretched across the horizon, never agreeing on who owned what. Before Joel, his father had caused an uproar in your family, and now he just had to continue causing problems. Would you ever rid yourself of this man and his family?

“I suggest y’take your ass home ‘fore I make you leave,” you warned. 

The wind kicked around you, fanning your hair down around your shoulders. Joel caught how your hair flared under your cowboy hat, and a hint of mischief sparkled inside his dark brown eyes. He was a fucking nuisance and still on your fucking land. 

“Careful now, darlin’. Those are some mighty big fightin’ words.”

You straightened your spine, holding firm on the reigns to keep yourself anchored. Mac huffed impatiently as if he knew how sour your mood was turning. The longer you kept yourself around Joel, the quicker your anger grew. The sun would set soon, and you still had miles to cover before you made it home; you wouldn’t entertain an old cowboy all night, even if he were staring at you like you were a wild horse to be tamed. 

“This is the last time I’m tellin’ you to stay off my land, Joel. I mean it.”

Joel chuckled lightly as if your words meant nothing. He placed his hat back over the matted curls on his head and began riding past you. You glared over your shoulder, watching his body travel further into the horizon and away from the rolling fields of your land. 

**

The summer wasn’t getting any easier. The sun grew brighter each day, and the air thickened with humidity, making it nearly impossible to continue wearing anything restrictive. With no one else around to pester you, you paraded around the stables in a tight top, a pair of daisy dukes, and your usual worn leather boots. The fewer clothes, the better—even if that meant getting bit up by a few mosquitoes here and there. 

You were deep into cleaning Mac’s stall when you heard the sound of hoofs pounding against the dirt ground outside the stables. Your body went rigid; you knew who it was without looking. Who else would it be out here? The horse in the distance bristled as its rider dropped to the ground, his heavy footfall nearing you as you exited the stall with a towel slung over your shoulder. 

Joel stood tall in the entrance, his broad frame sucking in all of the light as he walked closer. He wore an old denim button-up, and the sleeves pushed up his tan forearms, exposing the thickly corded muscles that ran down to his hands. Without a cowboy hat resting over his eyes, you could see how rich and dark they were as they stared you down. Despite hating him, your body reacted on its own accord. You clenched your thighs, trying to quell the ache growing inside your core. Leaning against the stall, you narrowed your eyes, watching Joel stalking closer. His steps were confident—casually, even—as if he owned the damn place. 

“Not sure why y’think it’s okay to come waltzin’ in here,” you scowled, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Ain’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Joel smirked. 

“Fuck off, old man,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. 

“What was that, darlin?” 

Joel stepped forward, and you mimicked his movements, drawing yourself closer to him. Even with his height towering over you, you were unphased. This man wouldn’t get the best of you. 

“Oh, sorry. Should I be speakin’ louder? Ain’t sure if y’got your hearing aids in.”

“No, I heard y’just fine. Just wanna hear you say it again.”

The toe of your boot tapped against his as you glared up at him. With a smug grin stretching across your face, you repeated your retort. 

“Fuck off. Old man.”

Joel’s body tensed, his eyes narrowed as he considered your words. You weren’t backing down; he was on your property and, quite frankly, pissing you off. He could bitch and moan all he wanted about how this land was his birthright, but he was wrong. Your parents settled the matter generations ago and never once faltered against the Millers. That wouldn’t change now. You’d uphold their wishes and continue fighting for what was yours. 

“Y’gotta damn nasty mouth on such a tiny body. Ain’t your parents teach you some manners?” Joel questioned. 

“They taught me enough, but it ain’t gonna stop me from tellin’ you off. So, get the hell off my property,” you demanded. 

You glanced down, noticing Joel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was amusing seeing him all riled up. Who knew he had that kind of spark in him? You wondered just how far you could push him until he snapped. 

“Ain’t you just spoiled rotten. Is that what it is? Y’think everythin’ is yours ‘cause your mommy and daddy said so?”

His voice was taunting, a litany of rhetorical questions to which he didn’t care to know the answer. Whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter because his mind was made up. Stubborn old man.

“I don’t think everythin’ is mine. I know it is,” you objected. “So, move your old ass back to your side of the pasture and get out of my face.”

Joel crowded your body, walking you back towards the stall door until your body pressed into the wood. You lifted your chin defiantly, watching his eyes clouded with rage. 

“Spoiled lil’ brat. Should teach you a lesson for the way you’re speakin’ to me,” Joel growled. 

Let’s see how far we can take this, you thought. 

“Whatcha gonna do? Spank me?” You laughed, gracing him with a rueful smile. 

Placing his hands above you on the door, Joel caged you between his body. You had nowhere to run; truthfully, you didn’t want to run. The incessant ache between your legs was swelling, your underwear practically soaked with the burning anticipation coursing through your veins. 

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, darlin’. S’only gonna make things worse for you.”

“I ain’t scared of you, Joel.”

“You damn well should be,” he warned. 

Joel’s hand shot out to grab the base of your neck, yanking you a breath away from his lips. The rich scent of whiskey wafted off his lips as he held you close, his fingers tightening around your throat. You rolled your tongue across your bottom lip, an invitation for whatever threat he had. You could take it. 

“Y’think it’s cute actin’ this way? Think you’re just tough shit, and no one will put you in your place, hmm?” Joel whispered. 

“You gonna be the one to do it, Joel?” You challenged. 

Joel used his grip on your throat to spin you toward the door, your cheek smashing into the wood as he pinned you against it. The instant sting of his palm radiated through the denim of your shorts, the heat of his hand melting into your skin. You yelped in pain, dragging your nails over the wood that strained against the press of your body. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass before delivering another jarring smack. 

“Fuck!” You cried, biting back tears. 

“Spoiled.” Smack. “Fuckin’.” Smack. “Brat.” Smack. Smack. 

“Joel, please!” You begged. 

You weren’t sure if you were begging for more or begging for him to stop. Either way, he was unrelenting, his handprint leaving welts on your skin. Joel’s grip on your throat tightened, restricting your breathing as he dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass. Prodding…smoothing…spanking. A continuous, viscous cycle you were weak against. Every bite of his hand on your body intensified the throbbing between your legs, your clit swelling with need. Repeating slaps against your other cheek forced tears down your face, their path leading down your neck and onto Joel’s warm hand. 

“You cryin’, darlin’?” Joel taunted. “Gonna beg me to stop?”

“Please—” You choked out, your words garbled and strained. 

Joel’s lips touched your ear, his breath fanning over your skin in waves. 

“M’fraid I can’t. Not til’ y’learn your lesson.”

You twisted your head around, your tired eyes connecting with his. There wasn’t a hint of brown in his irises as his pupils swallowed them whole, an unsatisfied look washing over his features. He wasn’t done, and neither were you. 

“Fuck you,” you snarled. 

Joel tilted his head, his graying mustache twitching as his lips curved into a smile. An unmistakable hint of desire masked his expression, keeping you reeled in and wanting more. If he could keep going, then so could you. 

“You just ain’t backin’ down, huh?” Joel questioned. 

You wagged your head back and forth, his fingers squeezing against your windpipes. Joel’s hand coasted up your waist, tugging at the belt loop on your shorts until your body spun to face his. Even with tears streaming down your cheeks, you grinned at him, clearly unbothered by the onslaught of pain he had inflicted. 

“That all y’got, old man?” You lipped off. 

“Call me old man one more time, darlin’,” Joel warned his face inches from yours. 

“Old. Man.” You punctuated each word through gritted teeth.

Joel cupped your sex through your jeans, no doubt feeling the arousal seeping through the denim fabric. A rouge whimper fell off your lips, and you bit back any more sounds to give away the desperation rolling through your veins.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he exhaled, but there was a lightness in his voice.

You were both giving into some carnal need, electrifying the humid air around you. You chased his mouth, wanting to lap up every threat on his whiskey-drenched tongue. Joel pulled back, your lips connecting with nothing as you arched forward. With a slight pout, you huffed in annoyance. 

“Look who’s actin’ all desperate now. Just beggin’ for this old man to fuck you.”

“Betcha can’t even get it up in the first place,” you grumbled. 

Joel’s hand connected with your cheek, a rough slap sending your face to the side. Dammit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d done. The sting of his palm sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your stomach, a burning need just aching to come undone. Thick fingers gripped your jaw, wagging your face side to side. 

“I’ve heard enough of that bratty mouth,” Joel said decisively. 

His hands brushed over your collarbone, grasping your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. Your legs hit the straw-covered ground with a soft thud, your skin scraping against the dry hay. He wasted no time undoing his large belt buckle, working his cock out of the confines of his jeans, and your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Joel was hung like a fucking horse, his length thick and no short of any girth. Precum dribbled down off the tip, the sticky mess enticing you to move closer. Staring up at him through your lashes, you waited for his next move. He might have you on your knees, but you’d have his cock, and that was power in itself. 

“Make use of that mouth and suck,” he commanded. 

You lapped at the precum, his cock twitching against every flick of your tongue. You explored his length, dragging your tongue along the veins running down the underside of his cock. Joel gripped the hair at the crown of your head, guiding your mouth over the tip and down his length. Your nose brushed against the bushy hair at the base, his musky scent flooding your senses—it was intoxicating. 

“There we go,” Joel hummed, his voice gravely and strained. “So fuckin’ full of me y’can’t talk back.”

His name came out muffled as you tried to speak, your tongue flatted against the base of his cock. He pushed his cock a centimeter further, the tip knocking against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, your hands slapping against his thick thighs. 

“I don’t wanna hear y’say a damn word,” Joel growled. “You’re gonna take my fuckin’ cock down your throat and choke on it.”

You clawed at his thighs as tears sprung along your waterline, threatening to spill over the longer he kept himself inside your mouth. His fingers tightened around tiny strands of your hair, anchoring you to his cock as he thrusted himself deeper. You tried to protest and pull away, but his grip on you was unforgiving. 

“Please,” you garbled, spit rolling down your chin. 

“Still actin’ like a spoiled fuckin’ brat, ain’t you? Think y’can get whatever you want?”

He granted you an inch to breathe, pulling you halfway off his cock. You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to latch onto any control. Joel used his grip on your hair to slide your mouth up and down his length, the sound of your lips around his the only noise aside from his labored breathing. You tapped on his thigh twice, hoping he’d relent and give you a reprieve. 

“Real fuckin’ cute,” he laughed. “Struggle all y’want, darlin’. I ain’t stoppin’.”

The tears flowed freely now, mixing with the saliva pooling down your jaw as you worked him deeper down your throat. Every strained attempt to beg him to stop fell on deaf ears; his cock only pushed further down until you had no choice but to sit there completely disarmed and helpless. The scratches left on his thighs didn’t phase him at all, nor did your whimpers as you tried to swallow a breath around him. 

“Keep cryin’, darlin’. Just makes you look prettier when I’m ruinin’ you,” Joel muttered. 

As your nose pressed against the hair at his navel, Joel’s hand brushed over your cheek, collecting a rogue tear on his thumb. Through blurred eyes and running mascara, you blinked up at him right as he tasted the tear pooling on the pad of his fingertip. 

“Delicious,” he hummed.

A dangerous grin split across his face, his hips jerking forward one last time before he wrenched you free from his cock. You coughed violently, the air wooshing back into your lungs with each heaving breath. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, wiping off the saliva coating your chin and jaw. 

“You fuckin’ asshole,” you choked out. 

Crouching down, Joel met you at eye level, his eyes soulless and dark. You shivered under his heavy gaze and flinched away from his face as he crowded you. 

“How’s that attitude of yours now?” He questioned. 

You reeled back, sending a glob of spit across the bridge of his nose. Joel scrunched his eyes together, jaw clenched as he wiped away your spit. You bared your teeth at him, still refusing to back down. Joel straightened to his full height, working at shoving his cock back in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed; you hated him but wanted more. 

“Guess I ain’t been rough enough,” Joel grumbled, walking down the stable. 

You watched as he picked a bundle of lead rope off the hook near Mac’s stall, weighing it between his hands. A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you saw his eyes light up in mischief. You were so fucked. You half-considered running, but where was the fun in that? Joel would only chase you down, and even that sounded delicious. There was no use in fighting it now; you were in it for the long haul. 

“Now,” he started, his steps slow as he walked back toward your kneeling body. “I’m gonna give you two options. Y’either walk your ass outside like a good girl, or I drag you out by your hair. What’s it gonna be, darlin’?”

“I’ll walk,” you snapped, rising to your feet. 

Your knees ached with each step as you walked into the blinding daylight outside the stables. Gnats swarmed around your face as you stood idle by the entrance, glancing over your shoulder at Joel stalking behind you. The rope swung beside his body as he carried it in his hand, the lingering threat lying within the coarse fibers that wound together. His head jerked over to the tie rack beside the barn, his eyes trained on the vacant stall before the expanse of your land. 

“C’mon, brat.”

He waltzed in front of you, guiding you to the empty platform with a stern look gracing his features. Without a single word, Joel yanked your wrists together, his deft fingers working at knotting the rope around your skin. The fraying pieces bit into your skin, rubbing and burning the longer he twisted it in loops around your hands. He gave the rope a good tug, humming in satisfaction once the binding was tight enough. Guiding your arms upwards, he clipped the lead to the metal loop on one side of the tie rack, keeping your body suspended awkwardly as your wrists ached from the restraint. You refused to say a word, too frustrated even to protest his actions. If you thought you were helpless before, you were utterly powerless now. It was just you, Joel, and the empty stretch of land that went on for miles. 

Joel pressed his body against your back, the warmth of his touch ignited heat within your core all over again. You squirmed as his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts under your sweat-covered shirt. He pinched at your nipples, finding their pebbled indentation hidden within your bra. A desperate whine left your lips as you swayed against the pull of the rope, your feet slipping against the ground. 

“See all that land out there,” Joel whispered, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “That’s all mine, darlin’, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that by the time I’m through with you.”

“Tyin’ me up and fuckin’ me ain’t gonna change my mind,” you scoffed. 

“Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck some sense into you.”

Joel’s hands worked down your body, making quick work of undoing your shorts and shoving them down to your boots. The hot, sticky summer air breezed over your bare skin, hardly helping to soothe the painful ache between your thighs. Thick, calloused fingers massaged the skin of your hips, kneading your supple curves as you writhed against his touch. You could beg him for more, and oh god, did you want to. You wanted to cave and relinquish everything just to quell the burning pleasure inside your body, but you wouldn’t beg. Not for Joel Miller or any other man. 

Joel swiped a finger through your drenched folds, tutting at your pliancy. The brief touch alone was enough to spark stars behind your eyes, your breath growing shallow.

“Well, would ya’ look at that,” Joel tutted. “You’re soakin’ my fingers, darlin’.”

You refused to say a word, too afraid you’d succumb to your own devices. You wouldn’t ask him to fuck you, but Jesus Christ, you fucking needed it. Every fiber of your being cried for release, and if it meant you had to be tied up and fucked in front of the yellow fields in front of you, then that’s what you’d do. 

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Joel offered. “Say this land is mine and I’ll let you go.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, no doubt a mess after being on your knees before him. There was a cruelty in his eyes that alarmed you, but you were too focused on what you needed, even to feel afraid. 

“This is my land,” you stated, your chin held high. “S’my family’s land and it’s gonna stay that way ‘til I’m in my grave.”

“Wrong fuckin’ answer.”

Joel knocked your legs apart, the denim of his jeans dragging against your slick arousal. There was a moment where there was absolutely nothing, a vacancy of sound or touch that deprived your senses. Maybe you were teetering on the edge of delirium, too far gone to know what he was doing behind you, but then you felt everything. The thick head of his cock brushed against your entrance, rubbing between your silken folds in tantalizing strokes. That was the only warning he gave before pushing himself deeper, splitting you open inch by inch. You cried out as your body worked to stretch around his length, and your vision blackened as the sharp pain of the sensation jolted through your veins. 

“Fuck!” You screamed. 

The adjustment to his size was agonizing despite how wet you were. Nothing could have prepared you for the way Joel broke you open, nor was there anything that could have prepared you for how brutal he would become. Thrust after thrust, he assaulted you, completely breaking you and molding you to his cock. The pull of the rope burnt the skin of your wrists as he took you harder, your body lurching against the restraints with each snap of his hips. Joel tugged your body backward, shifting your legs until you were forced to bend at the waist. Words wouldn’t form on your lips, and you dissolved into a heap of wailing cries as he plunged deeper into you. 

“Where’s all that loudmouthin’ now?” Joel grunted, his fingers bruising your hips. “So fuckin’ cock drunk y’can’t even speak?”

Your silence only drove him crazier, his speed quickening mercilessly. The ache inside your core was all-consuming, a burning wildfire inside your stomach. You dropped your head between your shoulders and dug your nails into your palms, keeping yourself grounded. 

“Joel,” you gasped. “Please.”

You failed in your attempts not to beg this man, throwing everything to the wayside as you succumbed to the pulsing ache between your legs. 

“Shut up, brat,” he snapped. 

“Joel!” You sobbed. “I’m gonna—fuck—please. I need to—to…”

The words turned to ash on your tongue as he snaked a hand around your body, his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit. You yelped at the roughness of his fingers, the sensation alone nearly causing your legs to buckle beneath you. If it weren’t for the ropes holding you firmly in place, you would have fallen to the ground. 

“Poor thing,” he crooned in your ear. “Y’wanna cum? Is that what you want?”

Another drive of his hips. Another draw of his fingers. Tormenting movements that kept you on the edge of ecstasy and suffering. Your arousal pooled down your inner thighs, mixing with the sticky sweat that clung to every inch of your skin. 

“I need it, Joel,” you gasped. “Christ, please!”

“Y’gonna change your mind?”

“N—.”

Joel pinched your clit between his fingers, and your words drowned out under a helpless wail falling from your lips. He pulled you back by your hair, winding it around his fist as he drew his lips down your neck. The sweltering touch of his mouth on your skin and his rough fingers on your sensitive bud were enough to topple you closer to the edge. The furnace igniting inside your stomach wouldn’t stop any time soon, but you still wouldn’t give up. He was always going to be wrong, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction. 

“Say it, darlin’. Say the words, and y’can cum all over my cock.”

“Never,” you panted. “Never gonna—.”

He pistoned into you, his cock spearing deeper and deeper, completely paralyzing you. Sobs wracked through your body as you took every thrust, and your mind began to float off into a blissed-out haze that drowned out the noise behind you. 

“Gonna own all this fuckin’ land,” Joel gritted out. “Own it just like I own this fuckin’ pussy.”

Please. Please. You weren’t sure if you repeated the words inside your mind or aloud; either way, Joel only huffed a laugh and continued with his repetitive assaults on your body. Your orgasm began barreling toward you, your core fluttering around him as it sparked beneath your skin. Everything inside you tensed up, and your jaw went slack with an outward cry as you slipped under the rapid release coursing inside your body. 

“Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “Fuck… fuck… fuck!”

Your sex clenched around Joel so hard he choked on a breath, his body rigid against yours as you spasmed beneath his hold. Hot, wet streams of your orgasm drenched his cock as he tore through your orgasm with shallow thrusts. Jole rammed into you over and over again until another wave of pleasure slammed into your body. 

“Fuckin’ brat,” he hissed. “Never said y’could cum, did I?”

His hand vanished from your waist and returned to the welted skin of your ass with a resounding smack. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out, nor any more tears to shed. You hung against the ropes, limp and pliant, as he took you with abandon. 

With another snap of his hips against yours, Joel spilled into you, his release filling you to the brim as he released a carnal groan. You could barely lift your head to look back at him as he untangled his fingers from your hair and pulled away. 

Every atom inside your body was pulsing with overstimulation, your ass welted and bruised, and your throat raw from screaming. The constant thrum of your heartbeat in your ears smothered the sound of Joel’s belt buckle clanging together, the warmth of his body far removed from yours as you stood on tired legs. Moments passed without a single touch, and you wondered if Joel would leave you there tied to the rack and dripping with cum. 

“Think y’learned your lesson now?” He asked, his voice sounding far away. 

All you could do was wag your head in protest, your eyes pinned down to the floor, fixated on the pool of saliva that had fallen from your lips. Joel appeared beside you, his grey hair dissolved and face red from exertion. He worked at unclasping the rope from the hook, unbinding your wrists until your arms fell limp to your sides. Your body was weightless without the stability of the rope, and you fell forward, anticipating the impact against the cement. Joel was quicker, though, winding a strong arm around your front and holding you up. 

“Easy now, darlin’,” he whispered softly. “Easy.”

Your fingers wrapped around his arm, clinging to anything to escape the impending collapse of your entire body. Your boots scruffed against the cement of the stall, kicking dust into the air around you. With his arm still braced around your chest, he used the other to guide your shorts back up your legs and onto your hips. You hissed as the denim rubbed against your ass, the swell of your skin still prickling with pain no matter how brief the touch was. 

“Can y’stand on your own?” He asked. 

“Mhmm,” you mumbled.

“Attagirl.”

Yet as he released your body, you staggered forward, grasping onto the tie rack for support. Joel waited until you found your balance and offered a hand. You were hesitant but relented silently. He took your wrists in one large hand and began massaging at the reddened skin, working out any tension left from the rope. You stared blankly at him, watching a crease burrow between his eyebrows. You still hated him, right? Right? Something so minimal shouldn’t make your heart pound against your chest, but there you were, speechless as you watched this rough man touch your skin with a tenderness he had yet shown. 

“Suns goin’ down soon,” he muttered, nodding to the sky. 

You peered over your shoulder, surprised to see the sun dipping over the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the pinky hue of the sunset while he fucked you, but now you stared at it in wonderment. 

“Guess it is,” you sighed. “Y’should get your ass off my property ‘fore it gets too late.”

Joel snorted, glancing up at you through thick lashes. In the dwindling sunlight, his eyes had dissolved from onyx back into a glistening amber color, the flecks of rich brown dancing as he looked at you. 

“Stubborn lil’ thing,” he huffed. 

He dropped your hands and straightened to his full height. Perspiration coated his button-up, staining it in dark spots as excess beats of sweat still rolled down his muscular neck. You tamed the flyaways of your hair, trying to minimize the obscenity of your look the longer he stood before you. It was no use after what he had done. 

“Y’ain’t changin’ your mind, huh?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. 

Joel rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his front pocket. Leaning close, he brought his other hand to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers brush over your cheek before pulling away. 

“Guess I’ll just come back tomorrow and try again.”

“Y’come back here tomorrow, and I’ll shoot you dead, Miller.”

He cracked a grin and began to retreat toward his horse beside the stable. You stood motionless as he mounted the brown mare, slipping the reigns between his hands. Joel gave you a farewell wave before taking off across the flowing fields, his broad figure dissolving into the sunset. You slumped against the wall of the stables, letting your body fall to the ground. A smile slid across your face, taking in the open land before you. 

You didn’t give up. It was all still yours.

[hazelsmirrorball]

Too Sweet | Oscar Piastri

SUMMARY: Y/n hard launches her relationship with a certain F1 driver bringing mixed reactions from her fans FACE CLAIM: Sabrina Carpenter PAIRINGS : singer! Reader x Oscar Piastri a/n: I'm on a roll

y/nnnnn via instagram!

liked by olivia.rodrigo, carlossainz55 and 2,782,293 other.

y/nnnnn in my model era!

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user15 Carlos Sainz? this photoshoot has everyone on the edge of their seat

user36 she's in her lover era

user37 you are glowing

user290 you are such a goddess

user278 please give me one chance!

user38 new soon when?

-> y/nnnnn sooner than expected that's for sure

y/nnnnn via instagram!

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 3,567, 092 others.

y/nnnn my new single "So American" is out on Friday!

view all comments

user25 you finally got your drivers license?

user28 this new era is upon us

user57 so American? are we finally getting a covergirl anthem?

oscarpiastri you learned how to drive? and didn't tell me?

-> y/nnnn sorry to break it to you but the car is parked, x

-> landonorris maybe you should teach her

-> user271 since when is this a thing?

user37 y/n x mclaren?

user98 she has to be dating lando, 100%

user87 omg omg lando x y/n! finally

user35 y/n in the paddock when?

user45 why is everyone assuming it's lando and not oscar?

noty/n via instagram!

liked by notthebestmclarendriver, olivia.rodrigo and 1,000 others

noty/n life recently has been so sweet

view all comments

norrizz we get it, you're in love now please stop

-> notthebestmclarendriver stop being jealous

notthebestmclarendriver love you so so much, no one can do anniversaries like us

olivia.rodrigo can't believe it's been five years since you changed me for a formula one driver

-> noty/n you will always be my number one

logansargent proud of my parents!

y/nupdates via instagram!

liked by logansargent, user37 and 2,000 other.

y/nupdates y/n l/n with mystery man in a small cafe in LA

view all comments

user15 omg! omg! omg!

user179 she finally has a man?!?

user16 we are finally getting her lover era

user189 who even is that, you can barely see who it is

user167 this is such an invasion of privacy

user278 i’m so happy for her!! she deserves this and more

user29 she looks all giggly and in love

user26 she’s down bad, i fear

user178 she should be focused on a new album not falling in love with some loser

-> user71 falling in love was what got her that grammy

user78 who f1 driver is she hooking up with to have the whole grid in her likes? cause i get her post but them following her private insta and liking fan pages is another level of crazy

y/nupdates via instagram story!

y/nupdates via instagram!

liked by user15, user17 and 2,4378 others

y/nupdates Mclaren F1 driver Oscar Piastri what was his go to song while racing and without hesitation he responded “So American” by Y/n L/n. There’s been a suspicion that Y/n has been linking up with a formula one driver, could it be oscar piastri?

view all comments

user157 i don’t think oscar is y/n’s type

-> user268 who asked for ur opinion

user278 you guys should touch some grass

user53 didn’t she say to please stop assuming things about her relationship

user17 she can also have friends that support her music

user39 let them live please

user67 and this is why she’s never been public with her relationship

user51 i don’t get why is everyone hating?

y/nupdates via instagram!

liked by user36, user57 and 5,682 other

y/nupdates leaked pictures from Y/n L/n with the f1 driver, Oscar Piastri

view all commments

user189 we never learn do we?

user16 where do people even get this

user278 this has to be photoshopped, y/n looks too good

user678 guys guys guys!!! let’s make this happen

user468 okay but they look so so good together

user26 honestly i like seeing her happy

user16 she is glowing!!!

user71 i’ll wait until they confirm it on their own time

y/nnnn via instagram!

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 6,902,892 others

y/nnnn surprise! i’ll probably get my drivers license soon

view all comments

oscarpiastri why do that when you can be a passenger princess

user16 y/n is getting princess treatment

logansargent my happy family

landonorris please get off my feed, i have to see you guys enough in the real world

user51 omg omg omg it’s finally confirmed!!!

user178 should we act surprised ?

oscarpiastri i love you x

user17 our girl is all grown up

oscarpiastri i’m so coquette, lana del rey vinyl

-> y/nnnn how do you even know that?

-> oscarpiastri not important

user56 it’s not considered a soft launch because she tagged him right?

oscarpiasri via instagram!

liked by landonorris, y/nnnn and 2,068,890 others

oscarpiastri i swear it’s not photoshop, i’m actually dating an angel

view all comments

y/nnnn i hate you for using that last picture

-> oscarpiastri don’t lie you love meee

user15 okay now i see the appeal

user78 hot couple alert!

landonorris again? i’m going to be sick

-> oscarpiastri go cry about it

user16 oh i know the new album is about to be good

y/nnnn drivers lessons are coming soon right? x

[amirasainz]

Please write about Lewis little daughter being in the paddock and playing with Roscoe and Leo, its so adorable. Make it fluff💖💖

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Puppy love

The sun was shining brightly over Silverstone as the anticipation of the home Grand Prix filled the air. Fans adorned in Mercedes and Ferrari colors flooded the paddock, but one person stood out among them: Lewis Hamilton. With a big grin on his face, he was excited for a weekend filled with racing, but what made it even more special was that his two-year-old daughter, Yn, was here for the first time.

As he walked through the paddock, he held her small hand tightly, her big eyes sparkling with wonder as they took in the vibrant atmosphere. “Look at all the cars, sweetheart!” Lewis said, pointing to the sleek Mercedes machines gleaming under the sun. “This is where Daddy works.”

Yn looked up at him, her curly hair bouncing as she turned her head to follow his gaze. “Cars, Daddy!” she exclaimed, clapping her little hands together.

“Exactly! And we’re going to have so much fun,” he replied, kneeling down to her level. “But first, I have to talk to some people. Are you ready to meet some friends?”

“Friends!” Yn shouted, her excitement infectious.

Lewis chuckled as he spotted a familiar figure approaching: Charles Leclerc, with his signature smile and a playful demeanor. “Charlie!” Lewis called out, waving him over.

“Hey, Lewis! Is this your little princess?” Charles knelt down as he approached, his eyes twinkling at Yn. “Hello there, Yn! I’m Charles.”

“ChaCha!” Yn giggled, her tiny fingers reaching out to touch Charles’s Ferrari cap.

Just then, Roscoe, Lewis’s loyal bulldog, padded over, wagging his tail. “And there we have Roscoe. That's our dog, remember,” Lewis said, watching as Roscoe sniffed at Yn’s shoes.

“Rosco!” Yn squealed, bending down to pet him. The dog responded with a gentle nudge of his nose against her hand.

“Let’s give them some space to play. Leo is playing in the grass as well,” Charles suggested. “I can see we two have media duties to attend to.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to have someone keep an eye on her,” Lewis said, glancing around before spotting a Mercedes team member, Claire, who was nearby. “Claire! Can you watch Yn while Charles and I handle this?”

“Of course, Lewis! Come here, Yn!” Claire beckoned, and Yn waddled over, a bit shy but excited at the prospect of new adventures.

As Lewis and Charles headed toward the media area, Yn settled down on the grass with Roscoe beside her. “Leo? Leo!” she said, pointing to the other side of the paddock, where Charles’s dog, Leo, was playing.

Claire smiled as she watched Yn crawl toward Leo, who was bounding through the grass, barking playfully. “Look at Leo go!” Claire encouraged, laughing as Yn giggled in response.

“Run, Leo! Run!” Yn squealed, her eyes lighting up as Leo raced in circles, his fur shimmering in the sunlight.

“Be careful, sweetheart! Stay with Roscoe,” Claire called gently, watching as Roscoe walked protectively beside Yn, his presence calming and warm.

Yn giggled and tried to chase after Leo, her little legs moving as fast as they could. “Leo! Wait!” she shouted, laughing as Leo turned and barked playfully, as if teasing her to catch up.

Meanwhile, back at the media area, Lewis and Charles sat in front of the cameras, but both men’s attention drifted to the grassy patch where Yn played. “Look at them,” Charles said, nodding toward the sight of Yn laughing and Leo barking. “She looks so happy.”

Lewis grinned, his heart swelling with pride. “She’s having the time of her life. I can’t believe this is her first time here,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

The media representatives asked their questions, but Lewis’s mind was half-focused on Yn’s joyous laughter. “So, Lewis, how do you feel about racing at your home GP?” one reporter prompted.

“It’s always special, but today is different. I have my daughter here for the first time. It makes everything more meaningful,” he replied, unable to hide his smile.

As they finished the media obligations, Lewis caught a glimpse of Yn tackling Leo, trying to catch him as he zoomed past her. “You think she’ll be a racer someday?” Charles teased, nudging Lewis.

“Definitely. Just look at her!” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as they finished up and made their way back to the grass.

When they returned, they found Yn sprawled on the grass, with Roscoe napping beside her and Leo running in circles, barking excitedly. “Look who’s back!” Claire called out, waving to them.

“Yn, look! Daddy’s here!” Lewis shouted, and her head shot up, a bright smile lighting her face.

“Daddy!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched. Lewis scooped her up, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably.

“Did you have fun, my little racer?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“Fun, Daddy! Rosco and Leo!” she replied, pointing at the dogs. Roscoe rolled over, showing his belly, while Leo bounded over to join the group.

“Roscoe’s such a good boy,” Charles said, kneeling to give the bulldog some attention. “And Leo, you little rascal, you’ve been keeping up with her, huh?”

“Woof!” Leo seemed to respond, jumping around Charles, trying to steal the spotlight.

“Looks like they love her,” Lewis said, watching the scene with joy. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first day in the paddock for her.”

Yn clapped her hands, delighted by the attention from the dogs. “More, Leo! More!” she shouted, and Leo raced off again, inviting her to chase him.

“Come on, let’s play!” Lewis encouraged, setting her down gently. Yn took off after Leo, her laughter echoing in the paddock, while Roscoe trotted beside her, always keeping a watchful eye.

As they played, Lewis and Charles exchanged amused glances, both feeling a warmth in their hearts.

“I can’t believe how much joy she brings to everyone,” Charles said, his eyes softening. “You’re doing an amazing job, Lewis.”

“Thanks, mate,” Lewis replied, watching Yn tumble on the grass, her face lighting up with pure joy. “She’s my world. I just want her to be happy.”

“Let’s make sure she has the best weekend,” Charles said, throwing his arm around Lewis’s shoulder. “After all, it’s not just about the racing today. It’s about family.”

With a shared smile, the two men turned their attention back to the playful scene before them, a perfect mix of laughter, love, and the thrill of the sport they adored. In that moment, as the sun shone over Silverstone and Yn chased Leo, it was clear that this was just the beginning of many more beautiful memories to come.

[girlkisser13]

birds of a feather

"i knew you in another life" "you had that same look in your eyes" "i love you, don’t act so surprised"

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. tooth rotting fluff. established relationship.

summary: "i love you in every universe."

the warm afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow over the grassy clearing. the air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the gentle hum of bees buzzed around the two of you as you sat cross-legged on the soft grass, your fingers deftly weaving a colorful flower crown. percy lay with his head in your lap, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. his dark hair felt soft under your touch as you carefully arranged the flowers, making sure each one was placed just right.

the two of you had stolen away to this hidden spot, far from the hustle and bustle of camp half-blood. it was your secret sanctuary, a place where the both of you could escape from the chaos of your lives as demigods and simply be yourselves. as you worked on his flower crown, you found myself lost in the simple, soothing rhythm of the task.

percy’s voice broke the comfortable silence, soft and contemplative. "do you think parallel universes are real?"

you paused, your fingers stilling for a moment as you considered his question. "i don’t know," you admitted, your focus still on the flowers in your hands. "maybe. there’s a lot we don’t understand about the universe."

percy opened his eyes and looked up at you, his sea-green eyes thoughtful. "i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. about how there could be other versions of us out there, living different lives."

you nodded absently, selecting a bright yellow daisy and adding it to the crown. "it’s a nice idea. infinite possibilities and all that."

he reached up and took your hand, his touch warm and grounding. "do you think we’d still find each other? in those other universes?"

his question caught you off guard, and you looked down at him, your heart skipping a beat. there was something earnest and vulnerable in his expression that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"i don’t know," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i’d like to think so."

percy’s smile widened, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "i think we would. no matter what."

you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "how do you know?"

he shifted slightly, turning so that he could look up at you more easily. "because i love you," he said simply. "and my love for you is so strong, so pure, that i can’t imagine any version of me not feeling the same way. it’s like... like a universal constant."

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, focusing on the flower crown to hide your embarrassment. "that’s... really sweet, percy."

"i’m serious," he insisted. "i believe that in every universe, i would find you. and i would love you just as much as i do now."

you could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. you finished the last few touches on the flower crown and gently placed it on his head, the colorful blossoms a stark contrast to his dark hair.

"there," you said, smiling down at him. "perfect."

percy reached up to touch the crown, his fingers brushing against the petals. "thank you," he said softly. "for everything."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "i don't think i could love you any more than i already do," you said quietly. "i think i’d love you till the day i die."

he closed his eyes again, his expression one of utter contentment. "that’s all i need to hear."

you stayed like that for a while, the world around you fading into the background. in that moment, it didn’t matter what dangers awaited you outside your little sanctuary, or what challenges you would have to face as demigods. all that mattered was the here and now, and the love the two of you shared.

and maybe, just maybe, percy was right. maybe your love was a universal constant, something that would endure no matter what. it was a comforting thought, one that made you believe in the possibility of parallel universes and the idea that you would always find each other, no matter what.

as the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. because in every universe, in every possible reality, you knew one thing for certain: you would always love percy jackson.

[vigilante-3073]

Flowers In Bloom

Logan Howlett X Female Mutant Reader

Summary: A glimpse into Logan's life with his significant other.

TW: Pre-established relationship, Logan being a lovesick puppy, mutant abilities, pregnancy.

Logan never expected to get a happy ending for himself. His life had always been filled with anger and pain, a cycle that he believed would continue until his life eventually came to an end. Logan's outlook on his life began to change when he met Y/N L/N through Charles Xavier.

Y/N was a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and she absolutely loved her job. Y/N had the ability to control plant life and the children loved it.

Logan watched Y/N as she knelt in the grass with one of her students, bright pink flowers sprouting up from the soil around them. The little girl smiled widely, letting out a happy squeal as she spun around in the flowers.

Y/N smiled, carefully picking one of the flowers and tucking it behind the young girl's ear.

Logan found himself smiling softly as he watched her, admiring the woman he had come to love so deeply. Y/N brought him to life and he was finally able to see a future that was different from the one he had always imagined.

Everything Y/N touched turned to light and love, putting Logan at ease in a way that he had never experienced before. He didn't believe in soulmates, but she would definitely be his if he did.

Logan watched the little girl collect the flowers from Y/N before running off to give them to her friends. Y/N observed the girl for a moment before she stood up from the grass, brushing the dirt from her knees.

Y/N was great with kids and Logan hoped that he would be able to give her a child of her own one day. She would be an excellent mother and any kid would be lucky to have her.

Y/N seemed to feel his gaze on her, turning her head in his direction, he watched her face light up when she realized that he had returned from his mission. Y/N ran to him, Logan moved towards her and opened his arms. He caught her as she collided with his chest, holding her tightly in his embrace.

"Missed you so much, baby," He mumbled.

"I missed you too," She replied.

He pulled away slightly, her fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to her's in a passionate kiss. Logan's hands shifted to rest on her hips, thumbs circling her hipbones gently as they kissed.

"Mister Logan," A soft voice called, the pair broke apart quickly. Logan smiled at the bright red flush that darkened Y/N's cheeks at the interruption.

"What can I do for you, bub?" Logan asked, looking down at the young girl.

"Do you want a flower? Miss Y/N grew them," She said, holding up a pink flower.

"She did, huh? Then I definitely have to have one," Logan said, accepting the flower from the girl, "Thank you, little miss," He said.

"You're welcome," The girl chirped before running off to hand out the remaining flowers.

Logan brought the flower up between them, spinning the stem between his thumb and forefinger before carefully tucking it behind Y/N's ear.

"Beautiful," He muttered, leaning in to give her another kiss.

...

Y/N moved through the hallways of the school with a large stack of books in her arms. She had raided Xavier's library for some resources to use in her lesson for the day.

Y/N shifted the books in her arms, struggling to manage the weight, "Need a hand, baby?" Logan asked, stepping out of one of the various classrooms.

"That would be great actually," Y/N said, Logan took the heavy stack of books from her and tucked them under his arm. His other hand quickly founds her's, fingers fitting together easily as he walked her through the mansion towards her classroom.

Y/N shifted closer to his side as they walked, "What do you need all these books for anyways?" He asked.

"Mushrooms," Y/N said simply.

"You need this many books to explain a fungus?" Logan asked, looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"There is a lot that people don't know about mushrooms. They're actually pretty cool," She said.

"Maybe I'll stay for the lesson then," He said.

"Really?" Y/N asked, an excited smile spreading across her face.

"I could listen to you talk all day long and never get bored," Logan said, her cheeks flushed.

"You're sweet," Y/N replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Only for you," He stated.

Logan released her hand as they approached her classroom, opening the door for her. Logan allowed her to enter the room first before following after her.

Every available surface of her classroom was lined with plants, the bright colors and vivid greenery making the room look like a jungle.

Logan set the stack of books on the edge of her desk, "How much time do we have before your next class starts?" He asked.

"About twenty minutes, why?" She asked.

Logan's hands quickly found her hips, spinning her body around and backing her up against the nearest wall, "Just want you to myself for a bit," He said, leaning in and pressing his lips to her's.

Y/N smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his body closer to herself. Logan slid his hands from her hips to settle on the small of her back as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

He pulled away slightly, "Baby, I got something to ask you," Logan said. Y/N's hands slid down from around his neck to rest against his chest. Her fingers tangled around the chain of his dog tags, "Can you kiss me some more before you ask whatever you need to ask?" She questioned breathlessly.

Logan smiled, "I think I can manage that," He said, leaning in and pressing his lips to her's again.

His hands slid up underneath the material of her shirt, his touch heating up her skin and making her heart race. She tugged on his dog tags, pulling him closer before her hand slid up to rest on the back of his neck.

Logan pulled away, watching her pout at the loss of contact, "I gotta ask my question, baby," He said, hands returning to her hips and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"What's your question?" Y/N asked.

"Will you marry me?" He questioned, her eyes widened, "Logan, are you- Are you serious?" She asked softly.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out the small velvet box and flipping it open before holding it up in front of her. The engagement ring glittered in the light, "Marry me, baby," He repeated.

"Yes, yes, of course I'll marry you," Y/N said shakily, happy tears gathering in her eyes.

Logan smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her lips as he plucked the engagement ring from the box. He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger carefully.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"I love you," He said.

"I love you too. I love you so much," She replied.

...

Logan made his way across the grounds of the mansion towards the greenhouse. The sun had set a few hours ago and a chill was beginning to settle in as night fell. Dew lined the grass, dampening the material of his pants as he walked.

He approached the greehouse, opening the door and stepping inside. The air was warm and humid, the string lights casting a soft yellow glow over the rows of plants.

Y/N was standing in front of a collection of strawberry plants, holding her palms over the soil and watching the vines grow, weaving themselves through the metal trellises that had been wedged into the dirt of each pot.

Logan made his way over to her, "Bit late for gardening, don't you think?" He questioned.

"I couldn't get to sleep... The baby kept kicking and she wouldn't settle. I think she could tell that you were away," Y/N replied, watching the green strawberries on the vines ripen into bright red ones.

"I'm sorry," He said.

"For what?" Y/N questioned, looking over at him.

"She's been giving you a lot of grief," Logan said, nodding to her swollen belly.

"It's nothing I can't handle," She smiled reassuringly.

"I know... I just wish that I could do more for you," Logan said, moving closer to his wife.

A sudden feeling of nausea washed over her and she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as she gulped.

"What is it?" Logan asked gently, hand resting on the small of her back.

"If you want to do something to help," She started.

"Yes, anything," Logan replied instantly.

"The smell of your cigars has been making me really nauseous," She said.

"How long has that been going on?" He asked.

"Since I was about six weeks along," She admitted hesitantly.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Logan asked.

"I thought that it would pass and it hasn't," She said.

"I'll quit tomorrow," He replied, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you, honey," Y/N said.

"You don't have to thank me... You're growing our kid, I'll do whatever you need me to," He stated.

"I really want to kiss you but-" "The smell, I know... Tell you what, why don't we head up to the house? I can shower and then we can go to bed, how does that sound?" He offered.

"That would be amazing," Y/N replied.

"Good, let's get you to bed, baby," Logan said, taking her hand in his.

They walked up to the mansion and made their way through the hallways to their bedroom. Logan hopped into the shower as Y/N got changed and settled herself in their shared bed.

Y/N read a chapter of her book before Logan emerged from the bathroom, water droplets clinging to his skin and a towel wrapped snugly around his hips. Y/N stared at him over the top of her book, watching him change into a pair of boxers and pyjama pants.

Y/N set her book aside as he hung up his towel before making his way over to her. Y/N smiled, holding up her hands and cradling his jaw as she met his lips in a gentle kiss.

"That's the stuff," He mumbled against her lips before leaning in for another kiss. His fists pressed against the mattress on either side of her body, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Logan pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before getting himself underneath the covers on his side of the bed. He laid down and Y/N quickly moved closer to him, laying down with her body pressed against his side and her head resting on his chest.

Logan wrapped his arm around her waist, his other hand settling on her bump. The baby kicked harshly against his hand, "Wow, you weren't kidding about those kicks," He chuckled.

"Yeah, feels like she's gonna start leaving bruises soon," Y/N said.

"Only a few more months until we get to meet her," Logan said, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her skin gently.

"Two months tomorrow," Y/N sighed.

"Two? Wow, that's coming up fast," He said.

Y/N nodded, "I know you're going to be great, honey. She loves you already," She said.

"Well, I don't think she could find a better mom than you even if she tried," Logan stated.

"I love you," Y/N said with a soft smile.

"I love you too, baby," Logan replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

[b14augrana]

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Your story goes deeper than what meets Alexia’s eye

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of alcoholism, adultery, and familial issues. read at your own discretion. aditionally, alexia is pretty mean in this and there wont be a happy ending for a few parts 😬

A/N: massive thank you to this request for the amazing idea 🫶🏼. r is 18 y/o but still going under teen!reader. this is going to be multiple parts because theres so much i could do for this request that i find impossible to fit into one part and write to a good standard, so here you go!

The Stands

Football unites the world. It brings people, cities, and countries together, like nothing else.

You’ve seen it happen in your beautiful hometown of Barcelona — all you can see during the hours leading up to any match set to be played in the Camp Nou is red and blue in the sky. Blaugrana painted the streets below, and the entire city came alive with the commotion from the stadium.

You spent your entire childhood being part of the roaring atmosphere, waving your Barça flag proudly in the air alongside every other flag and wearing the infamous colours across your chest.

Most of all, you prayed with every bit of faith in you, that one day you’d be on the pitch, playing for the club of your dreams.

Everyone in the crowd had their own individual life. There could be a single mother, a lawyer who used up his last days of leave to attend the match, a young boy with his father, an elderly person on an outing with his wife, someone from abroad who’s spent thousands and travelled for hours to watch their favourite player in real life.

11 players could bring together almost 100,000 people just to watch them kick a ball around, and you wanted to have the same effect. You wanted to be so good at football and have the ability to transform a simple sport about kicking a ball around into 90 minutes of entertainment, performance, art. You wanted to do it with Barcelona.

You trained meticulously for months. You passed your small, worn out ball against the same fence in your backyard, you practiced your touch by juggling until the frustration made you storm away in tears and you learned new skills and used your own shoes as cones to pose as defenders and dribble around.

When you went to the Camp Nou to trial for the renowned La Masia academy, you were little and clutching your FC Barcelona backpack for support. The stadium already looked so big when you were up in the stands, but when it was empty and you were actually on the pitch, it was even bigger. You were stood on the same grass as your idols that once had the same dream as you, and that was unbelievable.

The start of your journey as a player at FC Barcelona had begun.

Day after day, you woke up early for training. Your siblings were never awake at that time, so the rare moment of peaceful alone time with your mother was something you looked forward to every morning.

She drove you to the La Masia facilities and then picked you up at sunset. Sometimes, when she had to work late, you and some of your teammates would go to the park and play with the other local kids until your parents came.

Those were the same teammates that you got promoted to the B team with, and the evening 5-a-side games in the park never stopped. They were your best friends — you all shared a common dream of getting to the first team and playing in big tournaments and winning titles, and even though you realistically wouldn’t all be able to do that, no one ever stopped believing that one day it would happen.

As you grew up and your career just started to take off, things started to change. Not just in football, but your life off the pitch too. All at the age of thirteen.

Your father started coming home late. As if your mother was stupid, he’d waltz into the house in the middle of the night, claiming he had to stay a little late because a last minute meeting was called or he lost track of the time. The mild arguments started, and when the late arrivals became more frequent, your mother’s suspicions grew stronger.

One night, it came to a halt. Just when you stopped expecting it, he came home at his regular time; half past six. The only difference was, he didn’t look happy to be home at all. A frown tainted his face ans there was something off-putting about his demeanour. Soon, it all made sense.

You watched from around the corner, your head barely peeking out. Your dad shrugged his blazer off, and you noticed the way his mouth twitched as if hesitating to say something. Once he spoke, a big part of you wished he hesitated a bit more and realised down the line that he was making a bad decision, but it was too late.

The reason he was working late, the secrecy, the floral smells that lingered on his shirts; he was never working overtime, the floral smells were not from the diffuser in the office, and he did have something to hide.

It was called infidelity.

Your siblings emerged from their rooms as soon as the cacophonous yelling started, and you were quick to usher them away from the arguing.

The reality of how bad the situation really was hadn’t yet settled in, but you knew the outcome wasn’t going to be good.

Your youngest brother complained about his rumbling stomach, and the other two were quick to jump on the hunger train. For a moment you were stumped, because you didn’t want to go into the kitchen where the argument was taking place and get dragged into it, so your solution was grabbing a €50 bill and sneaking out to the nearest restaurant.

You were the oldest of four kids. After you was one of two boys, Lorenzo, and then the twins, Magdalene and Dani. They shared the same passion for football as you, and your fondest memories consisted on being in the stands of Camp Nou with them.

All of you snagged a table in a cozy restaurant, one you were familiar with due to going there multiple times with the rest of your family.

The hour you spent in that restaurant with your siblings turned out to be the last hour of a carefree life you’d get to indulge in.

The Pitch

You turned 18 last week, but you got promoted to the first team last month. The headlines painted you as an emblem of success for Barça’s youth programme, the future captain of the first team, and there were all these opinions flying around about you as a player. The opinion that mattered most, though, was that of your captain.

You and Alexia Putellas didn’t get along. Her opinion on you was nothing short of disapproving, and she let you know of that as you arrived at practice.

“(Y/N),” the woman said, her voice holding notes of irritation as she approached you. You looked at her, preparing yourself for the inevitable lecture.

“You’re late again. You might be young, but over here you’re the same as all of us no matter your age, which means getting to training at the same time as us,” she berated you, her hands set on her hips and her eyebrows furled in annoyance.

“Look, captain, I had to–” you started, but your explanation was cut short by Alexia.

“I don’t have time for your excuses. Do better next time, or you’re sitting out of practice entirely. Go run your laps,” she snarled, dismissing you with a wave of her hand.

You could only watch in anger as she stormed away while the others looked at you sympathetically, and you bit your tongue as you walked to the locker room and dumped your bag in your cubby.

She belittled you in every interaction you two had, which was a shame because you really liked her beforehand. In fact, you looked up to her, and you looked forward to being captained by her, but now it was hell on earth every time you entered the gates and met her scrutinising gaze.

Training was nothing special. It was the same old passing drills, small-sided games, shooting and free kick practice, and then before you knew it, home time.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and left before Alexia could stop you and give you yet another lecture. After stopping at the primary school to pick up Magdalene and Dani, you three drove to the middle school to pick up Lorenzo. Barcelona rush hour was rife around the time you picked up your siblings, so you spent another half an hour stuck in traffic until you finally got home.

All you wanted was your bed, and a nap. Still, you dragged yourself to the kitchen to make something quick for dinner so it was ready for your siblings when they were hungry, and then you tidied up in the living room.

Ever since your dad left, your mother was a wreck, leaving you as the successor to her caretaking duties of the kids. She was never a drinker, but after he left, she found herself depending on alcohol for a quick escape.

It was nice for a little bit; a short break from the world that always ended too soon. She kept chasing and chasing that relief until she was in too deep, and it was never enough. The bottles multiplied, the cans lined the rubbish bins, the stench polluted the air that once smelled of a fresh vanilla essence, and she became latched onto it.

You blamed your father for it all, because it was his unchastity that motivated every drink. Your mother was a beautiful woman who loved her family more than herself.

That was what ruined her.

“Hermana, hermana,” Magdalene spoke, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt. You looked down just as you turned off the stove, and she rubbed her stomach, “I’m hungry.”

“Okay hermanita, ask the boys if they’re hungry, please,” you replied, smiling at her. She nodded and ran to their bedrooms, and soon they all emerged from around the corner.

After scooping generous amounts of macaroni and cheese onto their plates, you put some onto your plate and sat down with your siblings to eat. Together, you all talked about your busy days and they listened to you tell them all about your training. They loved hearing your stories about Barça, and every time, Magdalene and Dani would ask you to continue your stories until they fell asleep.

Tonight was no different as you tiptoed out of the twins’ bedroom, gently shutting the door behind you. As much as you loved sleeping after a long day, part of you also dreaded it, because it meant starting a new day and facing Alexia.

When you woke up, it was to gentle knocking on your bedroom door. You were awake enough to comprehend the quiet pattering of footsteps across your hardwood floors, and when tiny hands grazed your skin, you jolted awake. “Hermana, time to wake up! School time!” Magdalene chimed.

So your morning routine began.

With one sock and half your jacket over your head, you made three lunches for the kids right after making their breakfast. Your mother slowly slumped out of her bedroom, wrapping her robe tight around her.

“Bon día,” she mumbled, a smile on her face. With a glance over your shoulder, you acknowledged her before going back to slicing two oranges.

“Morning, mamá,” your siblings responded quietly, shoving food into their mouths to avoid speaking any further. She sat on the couch, sighing deeply.

As she walked past you, you could immediately recognise the stench of alcohol — no surprises there. Years ago, she would’ve smelled like warm musky perfume, not the pungent smell of chemicals.

“Can you make me something, hija? ‘M very hungry,” she said to you, looking your way. You kept your head down, sealing the lunchboxes and cleaning up the counter.

“No, ma, I have things to do. Make your own breakfast,” you responded coldly, “Hermanita, pequeños, bring your dishes here.”

Your siblings scrambled from the table with their empty plates, giving them a quick wash before retreating to their rooms to get their uniform on. On the couch, your mother was still begging for food.

“Hija.. I’m hungry,” the woman slurred.

“Mamá, I have to get your kids to school and go to my own job, which my captain is already angry at me for being late because I have to drive them all around Barna,” you hissed.

“Then I have to come home and make dinner after cleaning your mess. You can make your own breakfast, for once!”

You always felt bad for yelling at your mum, but your life was hard enough with trying to get to work and drop off your three siblings in time while worrying about making your mum a meal.

You had a chance at life. You had a chance to succeed, and you weren’t going to waste it. You weren’t going to rely on a man to look after you in the future until he turns around and wants to look after another woman, leaving you damned.

“Bye, mamá,” you grumbled, grabbing your keys from the bench and swooping your boot bag up from the floor.

It was Dani’s turn to pick which song to play on the radio on the drive to school. He chose a very popular song within your siblings; ‘Me Gustas Tu’. The song had been broadcasted on the radio one day, and everyone seemed to love it. Their favourite part of car rides to school was winding the windows down and singing as loud as they’d like.

Somehow, amongst your father leaving and your mother’s new habits, your siblings were always happy, and that’s what you admired most about them. Maybe they were unaware of the harsh reality, but they were still naïve and unscathed by everything that happened.

It was almost 9:30 in the morning when you started making your way to the training pitch. Mentally, you were preparing yourself for the big lecture you were about to get from Alexia and seriously didn’t need, but physically, you looked unbothered if not a bit tense in the shoulders.

You almost tripped on your way out of the car as you rushed around to get your gear. Walking into training everyday just to get yelled at by Alexia was never nice, but you were used to it. Unfortunately.

That wasn’t the sort of relationship a captain should have with one of her players. It was almost like she despised you, and if she had her way, you probably would’ve been off the team within the first week.

Sure enough, when you appeared on the pitch, the first thing you heard was the low whispers beside you.

“…She’s irresponsible and doesn’t belong on the first team. Being late once, I understand, but multiple times? Her excuses are not good enough–”

“Excuses? Ale, you’ve never let her explain herself.”

“There shouldn’t be any need for excuses anyways, because she shouldn’t be late at all. If she wants to take her time and be let off easy like a child, send her back to the B team. Look, she isn’t even here yet.”

“She is, though. Look behind you.”

The woman turned around, her glare settling on you and being as cold as ever. She spun her whole body around and folded her arms across her chest, her frown heavy.

You sighed, looking down to your feet. It made you feel even worse that you couldn’t help it, and you couldn’t explain it to her either, because that action had potential to get your siblings taken away.

“Drop your bag, get comfortable. You’re not training today,” she snapped.

Your heart sunk. You fought to fend off any tears from forming on your waterline as you nodded, raising your head slightly.

“Listen, (Y/N). This team is everything to me. I have lots of respect for the people who coach us and come here to be coached. You, showing up late? That shows a lack of respect for those people. You’re lazy, unorganised, irresponsible–”

Irresponsible was untrue. If anything, you were the most responsible person you’ve ever known, but Alexia didn’t know that because she didn’t care to know you.

“…I can’t expect you to represent our club and our city on big stages if you can’t even come to training on time. You aren’t FC Barcelona material, and unless things change, you never will be.”

Your lip quivered as your body aligned to bolt for the locker room as soon as she left you alone, away from the watchful eyes that surveyed you in pity when had you arrived. Alexia turned on her heel and stormed away past Mapi, whom she was talking to previously.

She left you in her wake, crestfallen and misunderstood, defeated by circumstances beyond your control.

[flcwermimi]

❛ TAP INTO THE VOID STATE / SHIFT INTO YOUR DR THROUGH LUCID DREAMING ❜

Okay I believe this is one the easiest method if we stay consistent to the routine ( well the routine isn't that long y'all are just lazy to do it and later you will cry about saying ' I will never have my dream life , void is fake , vlogger are lying and blah blah ' I know u are all frustrated overwhelmed defeated by your failures but persist isn't living the life you've dream is worth?

— okay no more motivational speaking I guess you all know what is best for you

What is lucid dreaming?

‣ Lucid dreaming is when you’re conscious during a dream. This typically happens during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the dream-stage of sleep ( though my thoughts on this are you can do it anytime you don't need to be in REM STAGE )

‣ During a lucid dream, you’re aware of your consciousness. It’s a form of metacognition, or awareness of your awareness. Often, lucid dreaming also lets you control what happens in your dream.Some people report that lucid dreams feel very vivid and real, while others say they feel a bit hazier. Others say their lucid dreams feel different every time.

Why lucid dreaming?

‣ So I know most of y'all in this community find it too hard believe in the void/reality shifting and no matter how hard you try to believe the vlogger and anon you can't because of failures and other outer forces which has rooted in your subconscious conscious and unconscious mind since your childhood.But you all are very familiar with lucid dreaming you all have experienced it and even studied it thorough diffrent phase of your life so you know it's not fake

— remember every method you try is right you don't need perfect void concept , a perfect method, a perfect subliminals or perfect space to enter the void or shift it's all within you - believe that you're doing right trust yourself and everything is on your command

' let's start with the steps '

🤍 : first keep a dream journal and jot down your previous dream and if you don't remember your previous dream script a dream which is alike your everynight dream

🗒️ : Listen to this subliminal at least two hours a day ( you can do 1 hour in morning when you wake up and one hour in the night when are about to fall asleep & also when you're listening to subliminals you can just affirm that 'you all aware when you're dreaming/ you can lucid dream on your command/ you can lucid dream easily and effortlessly every night)

🌬️ : Do reality checks every 1-2 hours day ( counting your finger, pinching nose , bitting tounge)

What to do at night first?

→ Lay down in star fish position

→ Start counting & affirm [ I will be lucid dreaming tonight ] till you fall asleep

What to do when u are lucid dreaming ' actually '?

→ Many people when they are aware of dreaming get's excited and start creating a portal which cause the dream to collapse or slip away and the end either they wake up or fall asleep so if you want to not end up here follow the steps written below:

Now u are aware that you're finally lucid dreaming so don't excited or get scared every individual have different dream's so what u will doing first is the reality check ' count your fingers & remember u never have 10 fingers in your dream' - touch the grass or even bite your tongue

After doing reality check affirm 4-5 times ' stabilize dream & increase lucidity ' this will help you remain balanced

Now it's time to create Portal in your dream' there must be some kind door or windows ( it can also look like a cave or something werid) so u will enter the door/ window/ portal slowly and u will affrim either what u want [ if u want to enter the Void - I am in the void/ and if u want to shift - I am in my DR ] That's it congrats u did it

Okay so some people don't have doors/windows they also have people together them u will just gonna say to them take me to to void or to your DR and pls😭 don't try to control your dream too much your intrusive thought might win & u can create a portal itself like can make a door with anything!!

That's all you all got this luv y'all 🤍