#my laugh when I saw the female prones

[ultrakatua]

Xenoblade X really is a game with sickass mech designs and environments cohabitating with the laziest, ugliest, most uninspired female xeno designs imaginable

[ilsanslut]

Can i please request some jealousy headcanons for Kaiser and shido with a female s!o? Smutty too if that's alright.Thank you!

꒷♡꒷ GREEN-EYED GAZE!

♰ featuring: michael kaiser + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: VAMPIIE WRITE UNDER 1.5K WORDS CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE). i got carried away making the headcanons and decided to write blurbs to go alongside them but they are both LITERALLY the length of fics.... ANYWAY ryusei’s section may or may not be based off of my interactions with my jealous!ryusei shidou bot teehee. yall know how i already feel about him in ANY type of situation, but adding a jealous michael on top of that??? . . . yall hear something purring or is it just me—

sypnosis: hey siri play jealousy by monsta x! wc: 4.9k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI. jealous!ryusei. jealous!michael. possessive!michael. possessive!ryusei. mean!ryusei. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. big dick!michael agenda! tummy bulging. locker room sex (michael). dacryphilia (ryusei). Tit-slapping (ryusei). spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. dirty talking (ryu likes to call u mean names when he's horny). groping. hair pulling. sweet n vulnerable ryusei at the end :((. ꒷꒦

MICHAEL KAISER

❥ it should be noted that Michael is not prone to becoming envious. i mean, why should he? he’s handsome, wealthy, extraordinarily skilled at football, and he has you as his beloved girlfriend that he loves to show off. what more could he ask for? in fact, one might contend that he was the target of envy more than anyone else. ❥ at least, that’s what he thought until he noticed you talking with his teammate and sworn rival, isagi yoichi at one of their games. ❥ it wasn’t like he was afraid that the inferior little shit was going to take you away from him. on the contrary, michael could not even begin to describe the sensation of emotions he was experiencing within. it was as if a tumultuous storm of emotions raged inside of him, ones he could not quite pin down. ❥ hatred directed at Isagi? betrayal at the fact that you would so openly talk and dare to laugh with his rival when he was right here? angry that if he spoke about it right then, he would come off as a cowardly fool who lacks self-confidence? ❥ he’s deathly silent, menacingly brooding, and unbelievably furious. he couldn’t help but enviously glower at the two of you with so much intensity that it was a miracle that you didn’t have a hole lasered into your back. ❥ but he could not just idly stand by and do nothing, especially after that little shitstain dared to touch your shoulder. that was his last straw.

“K-Kaiser . . .” Ness' voice jolted him out of his reverie, and the innocent brunette unintentionally fell prey to one of Michael's infamous death glares.

Alexis tried his hardest not to flinch in the face of such wrath, but it was nearly impossible. Instead, he quickly averted his gaze, fearful of further infuriating his King, and motioned to the water bottle in Michael's hand, which had been unknowingly clenched so tightly that the cap had long since burst free, drenching his fist and shorts. Michael clicked his tongue, dropping the poor bottle to the grassy field, his deadly gaze returning to you and Isagi, now laughing about something else that he could not hear because he was too far away. Without saying a word, he extended his hand to Alexis, who hastily used his handkerchief to dry the wet skin.

“. . . I noticed them too.” Alexis murmured quietly, glancing briefly in the direction that Michael was glowering, but not for long since he knew not to look at you without his permission. However, it was at that precise second that he saw Isagi brush something off of your shoulder, which caused his breath to hitch and Michael's murderous aura to flare with ferocity.

“—He’s dead.” Your lover snarled, snatching his hand away from Ness and marching right over to where the two of you stood.

You were not aware of Michael's impending form, but Isagi was made very aware when his eyes met the ace’s murderous ones that were fixed solely on his form. When you noticed the striker's sudden silence, you turned to see what he was looking at, but before you could, you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you into an equally strong body. With the scent of expensive cologne and the familiarity of the rose-thorn tattoo wrapping around his forearm, you knew immediately that it was your boyfriend. Oblivious to the silent staredown between your lover and his rival, you continued to babble innocently.

“Oh hi, love! I was wondering where you were.” You commented, craning your neck up so that you could look at him. He would meet your gaze with a tight, unassuming smile on his lips, always a master of emotional disguise. The fire in his eyes, on the other hand, was undeniable. His smile was like a mask, meticulously crafted to conceal his true emotions, but it had begun to crack. You were no idiot. You could tell that he was upset. At what? You didn’t know.

“ . . . Were you now, liebchen?” You could not unhear the underlying malice that tainted his words, no matter how warm he tried to make his tone, nor could you ignore the cat-like narrowing of his eyes.

“Mhm! I was meaning to come back to you when Isagi and I started talking about ‘My Neighbor Toroto’, the Studio Ghibli movie!”

A stupid-looking movie. One that you still had yet to watch with Michael since every time you tried, he dismissed it with the notion of it appearing too childish for his tastes.

“Who knew that we had such similar tastes?!” You giggled as you turned to look back at Isagi, with Michael taking the opportunity to continue his malicious staredown at the striker. This time, he rested his head on top of your chin to prevent you from catching him.

“ . . . It that so?” His tone was grave, and his words were accentuated with a firm squeeze of your shoulders.

An awkward silence would ensue as neither man uttered a word, seemingly attempting to assert dominance over the other through mere looks alone, until it was abruptly broken by Raichi summoning Isagi. Once he was gone, you had little time to react as Michael's grip would release your shoulders, instead seizing your wrist to tug you along until the two of you were off the field and into the rest of the stadium.

“M-Michael?! What are you—”

“—Shut up.”

His tone was curt—rude—something that told you he demanded absolute silence, and you listened. There was hardly anyone on the way to the locker room since everyone had already filed into the arena and into their seats, and both teams had already taken the field. Once there, Michael dragged you inside, locked the door, and shoved your back against a locker’s steely face. In an instant, he was leaning over you, his forearm resting above your head while his other hand cupped your jaw, deft fingertips squeezing your cheeks as he forced his lips onto yours. It was passionate, possessive, and, above all, dominant, as if he refused to be opposed—as if he were trying to completely and irreparably erase Isagi’s name from your tongue. You adored it; his kingly persona was one of your favorite aspects of him. It was more reminiscent of his behavior on the field than anything else.

“Don’t ever look at him again.” He would mutter breathlessly against your lips, pulling away so that he could peer into your eyes—deep oceanics, half-lidded. His fingers squeezed your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. Using this grip, he shook your head gently back and forth, relishing in the way your pretty eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. “Do you understand me, liebling?”

You nodded, your eyes wide and doe-like, just the way he liked them. A wolfish grin overtook his features, tapping your cheek twice with the hand that previously held you taut, “Good. Girl.” Both words were pronounced with a tap.

His lips were back on you, this time on the cheek he had lightly slapped. Soft brims kissed hot trails down your neck, becoming sloppy and possessive with each passing second. Sharp incisors and pointed canines would attack the sensitive flesh by the time he reached your collarbone, gnawing, lapping, and sucking at your delicate skin until he left deep marks and you mewling in his wake. Your digits went to grab his blonde tresses, threading your fingers through the soft strands, when his hand came to your wrist, snapping on the joint and pinning it beside your head against the locker.

The silent command was straightforward. Don’t touch him. This was a punishment.

Pulling away momentarily, he admired his handiwork. Your previously subtle flesh was now ridden with purplish and red blotches—some lined with teeth marks—all over your exposed neck and collarbones. You could not possibly hide them, especially since the two of you were now in public and all of your makeup had been left at home. Smirking triumphantly, he grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you around, pressing your chest and cheek against the smooth steel. It was at that moment that you caught the nameplate that was etched onto the locker: Isagi Yoichi.

Michael seemed to notice your realization, chuckling to himself as he flipped your skirt up above your ass, bringing his hand down on both of your cheeks once and then twice, making you croon each time. He ripped your panties down your thighs until they pooled around the backs of your knees, all the while reaching beneath his boxers and shorts to pull out his cock, which was already hard and tip drooling with pre. He wasted no time lining his cock up with your soft folds, pushing into you in one single, hard thrust that had your knees going weak and you nearly sobbing from the immense pleasure. He kept you steady by grabbing your bicep from behind, using his weight to press you against the locker.

“You feel it, don’t you, liebchen?” He grunted, thrusting shallowly and languidly against you as though he were trying to fit every inch and then some into you. “Feel how deep I am in this tight cunt? My pretty little pussy? Hm?” His other hand wrapped around your front, pressing right against your womb as his thrusts grew deeper—longer. Each drag of his cock along your walls was tantalizing, leaving you a whimpering, drooling mess. You could feel him in your tummy, your slightly chubby pocket of flesh on your lower abdomen pressing into his palm. His thrusts grew faster and more ravenous as they began to mimic the fire that had previously been ignited in him only moments prior on the field. It was almost as if he were trying to get you to feel how you made him feel—what you did to him to make him just so fucking crazy for you—and you did. Loud and clear.

Your voice echoed off the locker room's concrete walls like a mesmerizing siren's song, only for his ears to hear. Moans of pleasure, pleas for more, his balls slapping your clit, and your ass bouncing off his hips—it was all too much for you.

“M-Micha, I-I can’t! Too much, plea— AHN~! —please slow down!”

Your cries went unheeded; if anything, they seemed to fuel him to pummel your poor little pussy even harder, ramming you against the locker at an unforgiving pace. He used the arm he held in a vice grip as leverage, pounding into you like a battering ram at a pace that made your brain go numb and your body clench around him as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“You can and you will. No one could ever make you feel this good, could they? Hit that sweet—” He paused, hips stuttering, as he delivered a particularly rough and targeted thrust to the squishiest part of your walls, causing knees to buckle beneath you and cunt to gush around him. “—There it fucking is. Hit that sweet, sweet spot inside of you like I can, huh?”

“N-No! No one–mphf! No one but you, Micha!”

“Not even Isagi?”

“G-God, not even him!”

“Goddamn right, meine königin.”

You would finally come apart against the lockers as Michael let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. One thing about Michael is that when he came, he came a lot. Every time, without fail, thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum invade your womb and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy too. It was a miracle you had not gotten pregnant by now, given how much he would pump into you.

Even now, as he pulled out of you, thick globs of his white release would leak from your sopping cunt. However, before a single drop could spill to the floor, he moved to grab your panties, which were around your ankles, and pull them back into position to stop any more from escaping.

His hold on you would soften as he became aware that you were still frail from your adventures. He would tenderly spin you around so that his lips would again touch yours, this time more tenderly. Unfortunately, Ness's familiar voice calling you both—more specifically, Kaiser—through the door interrupted your enjoyment of the moment. You knew he had heard what had happened between the two of you—possibly even more—due to the stutter in his voice.

“Uh, a-are you two done in there? Kaiser, the game is going to start soon, and Noel is going to put that Hirori kid in your place if you aren’t on the field in the next two minutes.”

“The hell he will.” Michael grumbled against your lips, placing another quick peck on them before he finally pulled away.

“Duty calls, emperor.” You teased him, lightly pushing at his chest.

He caught your wrist and pulled you into him in a way that always made butterflies arise in your tummy. “Are you coming out there with me, dear?” It was clear from your quivering and unsteady legs that you weren’t going to be able to do any type of walking any time soon.

“Ah, such a hassle.” He commented playfully, scooping you up into his chest, bridal style. “The things you do to me~.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI

❥ this is ryusei we’re talking about here. the same man who’s not afraid to set someone on fire if they even so much as look at you. it should come as no surprise to anyone that he gets jealous easily. that being said, he’d never be one to admit it. instead, his jealousy presents itself in the form of possessiveness and protection. after all, you're his, and you know you’re his. ❥ think of him as a protective doberman, a perfect guard dog. if anyone, more specifically, a man gets too close to you, ryu will loom over you and all but glower, snarl, and howl curses his way until the male gets the hint or has his neck stomped on. ❥ you could not count the number of times you had to physically restrain him from knocking someone’s lights out, especially after that one foreigner asked you for directions and ryusei responded by grabbing him by the collar, strangling him, and barking at him to "get lost." ❥ oh and god forbid anyone dares to flirt with you. you’d need the strength of jesus and all of his disciples just to keep your murderous boyfriend at bay—even then, it might not be enough. ❥ it’s never immediate, though; it takes a minute for it to click in his head what’s going on. moreso, a moment of “is bro serious right now?”. when these moments occur, for once in his life, he’s silent. he looks between you and the fucker who has the audacity to approach you, his eyes narrowed in a glare promising lethality. it almost seems as though he is testing the waters to see if you will speak first or if he will have to. in the end, though, it’s always him. ❥ so what could possibly go wrong when he brings you to his u-20 team banquet?

Angry does not even begin to describe Ryusei's current state of mind. He was enraged—furious, even—by the events that had occurred earlier in the night. You see, the two of you have been together for a little over six months now. He enjoyed bragging about you, and you enjoyed being with him. You were his lock screen, the source of his brainrot, the majority of his entire instagram page, and the absolute apple of his eye. So it would only make sense that when he was made aware of his team banquet in celebration of their big game that he would invite you to come along with him, right? God, how he regretted that decision.

All eyes were on you two the moment you walked into the banquet. Because it was a formal occasion, you wore a sexy red gown with an open thigh slit similar to Jessica Rabbit’s and a deep v-cut that exposed your cleavage and ended just at the tip of your sternum. Not to mention that the back of the dress was low cut enough that your lower back dimples were visible to all. Needless to say, it was no surprise that you were the center of everyone's attention—despite the fact that some of the others had brought their girlfriends with them.

However, anyone who dared look at you for too long would be met with Ryusei’s fury—everyone except for Sae Itoshi, who stared shamelessly at you with desire burning in his eyes. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed this. Due to his high regard for him and the fact that he was the one who gave him a second chance at football in the first place, Ryusei felt as though he could not confront his junior about it. Not to mention that you and Sae already had a pre-existing friendship before the events of Blue Lock. The two of you were essentially inseparable throughout the entire evening, conversing, laughing, eating, and even drinking together while Ryusei was left behind to stew in his festering emotions.

You two have just returned to your apartment after what was a riveting night for you and a torturous one for Ryusei. Now that the two of you had returned home, shortly after locking the door, Ryusei would turn to you with his infamous grin on his face, but the predatory glint in his eyes told a completely different story. He was seething, his gaze piercing right through you.

"You and Sae seemed awfully close tonight, huh? Ya' never told me you two were so 'buddy, buddy'.”

You paused, gazing at your boyfriend with an incredulous stare as you picked up on his accusatory tone. He was, in a sense, correct. Even though you two got along really well that evening, all of your interactions were completely innocent. Considering that you two had been friends for as long as you could remember, this was the first time you had seen him since junior high, when he left for Madrid. What were you supposed to do? Ignore him the entire time?

"What do you mean, Ryu~?" You would inquire, calling him by his nickname in a way that came close to disarming him, but he remained steadfast and scowled as he observed you take your heels off of your slender feet and set them on the shoe rack next to the door.

"You know damn well what I mean, sweetness. He'd retort back, his hands becoming stuffed in the pockets of his slacks as he towered above you. "You can put on your whole innocent 'I was just being nice' act all you want, but I’m no idiot, Y/N."

I’d beg to differ. You thought as you sauntered further into your shared apartment, the buzz of the alochol in your system flickering in and out as Ryusei began to sour your mood. You could hear him following you from behind you due to the sound of his socks shuffle across the wooden floors, much to your dismay.

“We’re just friends, Ryu.” Exasperated, you sighed and made your way to the master bedroom with every intention of taking off this dress and your makeup, taking a hot shower, and then going to sleep.

“Oh, just friends~!” He mimicked your tone crudely, his quick palm darting forth to snatch your elbow to prevent you from moving further. He whirled you around with surprising strength, shoving you backwards into the wall beside your shared bedroom non-too-kindly, drawing a gasp from your lips. His hand seized your jaw, slender digits squeezing harshly against your bones, making you whine aloud. He leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your own at the scent of faint alcohol and mint wafted onto your face. “Don’t play coy with me, attention whore. I saw how you looked at him all night—practically eye-fucking him."

There was an undeniable fire in his eyes, accentuated by his downturned brows. His fuschia irises burned into yours as your eyelids narrowed into thin slits, boring into the core of your being. Sharp canines and pearly incisors were slightly exposed as his upper lip curled into an angry snarl. Excitement gathered between your legs as your 6'2" lover scowled down at you, forcing you to unavoidably squeeze your thighs together—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryusei.

“Ohoho, what do we have here?” He commented, his knee sliding between your thighs as a ferocious grin spread across his lips. Due to the height difference between you, his knee was perfectly positioned against your panty-clad folds, causing your clit to needily throb against him. “Could it be that you did this on purpose, you little minx? Got me all hot an’ riled up just so that I could fuck ya’ up a little bit, huh?”

The hand on your jaw moved down to your neck, his lithe digits wrapping around it before squeezing. With each passing second, his grip would grow more unforgiving. Your delicate hands encircled his wrist, your back curved into his chest from the wall behind you, and your hips jolted across his knee, eliciting a contented moan from your lips. That was sufficient proof to him that you were, in fact, becoming aroused by this.

“Dirty little bitch.” He growled, a chuckle rising from his lips, before closing the gap between you two and smashing his lips against yours. It was rough, filthy, and full of teeth and tongues smashing against one another in a desire-filled exchange between two people who were both far too ravenous for their own good. Your hands were all over him, and he was all over you until his large palms came to rest on the backs of your thighs and hoisted you into the air, causing you to squeal against his mouth. His brims smirked against yours as he carried you over to your shared bed and placed you atop your silken sheets and plush mattress.

He was on top of you again before you could react, his deft fingers grasping the arms of your dress and pulling it down your body in one smooth stroke, leaving you completely nude before him. He tossed his head back, groaning at the sight of your body and sinful curves, feeling himself practically straining against his boxers. He wasted no time stripping out of his own clothes before diving back onto you, his tongue and pointed canines making quick work of the delicate flesh of your collar bones and neck, leaving visible marks in his wake. While doing so, his hands snatched greedy handfuls of your breasts, squeezing and groping at the engorged sacks as cunning fingers pulled your nipples taut. You keened under his body, fingers grabbing at the roots of his hair and tugging, a silent plea for him to give you more—one he heeded with a few particularly rough slaps to your breasts.

“Greedy slut.” He snarled, rising to tower over you once again, calloused fingers massaging the plump skin of your breasts that he had just brutalized. “Y’want more, huh? I’ll fuckin’ give ya more.”

Sliding off of the bed, he grabbed you by your ankles to take you with him and flipped you around so that you were on your stomach. Assuming he wanted you on your hands and knees, you began to rise to your knees, however, he placed a fiery smack on your rear that had you crying out in both pain and pleasure.

“Nuh uh, keep that pretty ass down here, baby. I’ll fuck ya just like this.” He muttered through gritted teeth, pulling you back down so that your toes bore most of your weight on the floor and you were still pressed flat against the mattress.

Before you could regain your composure, you felt Ryusei pressing a hand firmly against your lower back and his cock sliding into your wet folds in one full push. You gasped, already breathless from the intrusion and the feeling of being so full that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. You sank against the sheets, your fists balling the material next to your head as you moaned curses into the sheets.

“Nah, baby, that won’t do.” His fingers threaded themselves through the root of your hair, forcing your head up from the bed. “Let me hear how I make this pretty pussy feel, yeah?”

“R-Ryu, y-you’re too big—”

“—The hell I fuckin’ am.” His pace increased, becoming brutal and unrelenting. Every time his hips touched yours, you felt him miraculously strike deeper and deeper areas within you, bullying his fat cock in and out of your helpless cunt as if he were trying to punish you. He was.

“Bet if—ngh! Bet if I was fuckin’ Sae, this pussy would take his cock with no problem, huh? Y’wish it was him fucking you, baby?”

He was barbaric and cruel, channeling every ounce of rage and jealousy into his furious thrusts that pistoned into you within an inch of your life. You enjoyed every second of it. Your mouth remained agape, drool threatening to pool over your soft brims as a chorus of unapologetically pleasured cries and moans escaped your open maw. Without even trying, he hit every spot inside of you as though he knew you in and out—no one would ever be able to replicate how his cock made you feel, not in a million years. That’s one of things you loved most about you.

A sharp smack to your rear snapped you from your fucked-out haze, a cry escaping your lips as Ryusei used the grip on your hair to yank your body flesh against his chest, his lips snarling into your ear, “Answer me, bitch.” He snarled through clenched teeth as his thrusts grew erratic, sloppy even. The distinct pleasure moans he used to emit between his words had evolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your lover.

“Tell me the truth, you wish you had another cock fucking you this good, huh? Making you— fuuuck! Making you gush around this big dick, huh, princess?”

“N-Noo, ah~! O-Only want you, Ryu! I only want you!” You babbled through tears of overstimulation as the hand that was previously grabbing your hair was now holding your neck, pressing you taut against him.

“Yeah? Y’love me and my cock that much, sweets?”

“Oh God, yes! I-I only love you, Ryusei! O-Only you, baby!”

“Thaat’s my fuckin’ girl. G’on. Make a mess on me, pretty.”

By the time you gushed around his cock, you were hardly able to stand. Ryusei's powerful arms helped you maintain your balance so he could finish the last few thrusts inside of you before coming undone, spilling ropes of hot milky cum inside of your dripping cunt. The sheer volume of it was too much for you to hold, squelching around his cock as he now languidly thrust inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.

When he was completely spent, he let go of you and pulled away, letting you fall gently to the mattress beneath you. He collapsed beside you onto his back with one arm covering your back and the other resting on his forehead as you writhed around lazily in the moment. Even though he usually could not think of anything other than falling asleep and how great his orgasm felt after having sex with you, you could tell by the unmistakable pinch of his brows and his intent gaze on the ceiling that he was still thinking about something.

“Somethin’ the matter?” You inquired softly, concerned by his sudden silence. You fashioned an arm pillow to rest your head on while looking at him. He didn’t look at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly in his throat. “. . . Did you mean it?”

Now it was your turn for your brows to furrow as confusion etched itself onto your features. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows so that you could at least meet his gaze, to which his fuschia hues would give in and finally meet your own. He looked bashful, unsure—it was unlike him. If you squinted, you were certain that you could make out the faint tint of pink tinging his cheeks. His gaze darted away from your own and off to some random corner of the room.

“Yanno . . . about lovin’ me.”

A wave of emotions came over you when you realized that, as you were at your highest, you had unintentionally confessed to him. A sudden warmth filled your heart and permeated every fiber of your being, spreading like a delicate dance of butterflies in your stomach. You said you loved him. Every word you said was genuine.

You shuffled over on the bed so that you could climb partially on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder as you guided his head to meet your gaze again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Of course, I meant it, Ryusei. I love you now, and I always will.”

His eyes held a tenderness that you did not even know he was capable of, his gaze softened, and his brows rose as if he had been suddenly struck with love. He loved you just as much as you loved him.

“What was that, babe?”

“I said I love you, Ryusei—”

“—I know.” He grinned suddenly and cheekily as he encircled you in a bear hug, squeezing you into his arms and pulling you up onto his naked form. “I just wanted ta’ hear ya say it again.”

“. . . I love you too, Y/N.”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work with tiktok or any other site.

[girlboybug]

Shades of Cool

“my baby lives in shades of cool, cold heart and hands of aptitude.”

or the one where joel can’t seem to stay away from you despite his efforts to. but it’s not like he tried very hard to begin with.

what’s playing 🎧 : shades of cool by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, creampie, breeding kink if u squint, oral f receiving, fingering, loss of virginity, virginity kink if u squint yet again, tummy bulge, unspecified age gap and joel kind of has a thing for it, unprotected sex, (pls wear a condom guys im just a mf on tumblr) multiple orgasms, a tad of overstimulation, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, mating press, prone bone, light dom/sub dynamics, reader def has some unresolved daddy issues mean!joel but theres some soft joel

TRIGGER WARNINGS : minor character death/reference to his death but he literally doesn't exist in the show i promise, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of guns, implied/references to sexual harassment

a/n : this is my first time uploading to tumblr, forgive me if my layout is funky lol, anyways pls enjoy <3 read the second part here

you swallowed hard when you saw joel making his way towards the alleyway you two routinely met up in. watching as he did his typical side to side glance, casual in presence but it was muscle memory for him to ensure the safety of his environment no matter it’s location or the mundaneness of it. 

you quite disliked the feeling that pricked your chest and quickly spread inside the cavity, overflowing up into your throat and drowning out any coherent thoughts in your mind whenever you saw joel. 

it was annoying. pathetic even. just a silly schoolgirl crush you hoped would go away in time. 

you put aside the fluttering feelings for later, and waved, catching his attention. he sent a curt nod, rubbing his palms together before pushing them into his denim pockets. “hey.” he greeted you, if you could really call it that. 

you took whatever you could get from him, so you smiled, parroting it back with a nervous politeness. 

“do you have the uh…” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed that you struggled to even verbalize what you were trading. 

he raised a brow, folding his arms over his chest, looking at you expectingly. “i got it. you got the rations?” he finished speaking for you and you nodded enthusiastically, hurriedly pulling out the thick wad of rations you worked your ass off for. 

he shut his eyes with exasperation for a few seconds before hovering his larger hand over the wad, miraculously dwarfing your own hand. “don’t wave it around kid, jesus,” he sighed, shaking his head while palming it and sliding it away into his back pocket. 

“sorry…” you muttered embarrassedly. 

he didn’t reply, and instead handed you a box, bright purple and pink and your gaze slowly rose up to his face with a slightly ajar mouth. “uh. joel.” you started, voice leading into an upward trail of confusion. 

“if i wanted tampons i could have easily gotten this myself.” you wanted to hide the slight irritation in your tone but he caught on to it, unfolding his arms to jab the top of the box with his index finger. “how about you open it smartass.” he instructed dryly, moving backward and refolding his arms. 

your eyes lingered on him tryingly for a few more seconds, huffing quietly to yourself before flipping the cardboard flap up. 

again. tampons. 

you tilted it towards him and he dragged his hand down his face tiredly. he dug his hand into the box, the tampons shoved to the sides, revealing a small pistol. 

your mouth fell open into a comical O shape, laughing in awe. “oh!” you giggled and joel stared at you blankly, already feeling a hankering for a straight shot of whiskey at the bright and early hour of 8:30am. 

“very creative.” you beamed and it seemed as though joel fought back a smile behind a glare. at least, you told yourself that. 

“just enough for gullible people.” he pushed at a button of yours, just a little, and you paused for a second, shooting him a playful glare. “whatever,” you exhaled through a quiet chuckle. 

“thank you joel, i appreciate the um. tampons, i was running low.” you played along with the bit and he rolled his eyes, nodding, already ready to go back home. 

“sure thing.” he was about to turn and walk out of the alleyway but something held him in his spot. 

he took in a deep inhale before making eye contact with you, rendering you back into your nervous state from when he first arrived. 

“why do you need a pistol? we’ve only ever traded for small things. why the sudden big order?” he has absolutely no clue why he’s asking you this, or rather, he has no idea why he’s letting himself ask this. 

he shouldn’t care. he doesn’t. 

you stiffened, straightening your back and holding the box to your stomach, hands cupping the bottom of it. “just to keep at my place. thought i’d feel safer with it.” you answered truthfully, making sure to not go further into detail. 

his squinted eyes stay on you for awhile, unsure of what you needed to feel safe from. “are you uh…in any trouble?” he asks and you feel a little excitement ignite in your lower belly. 

is he worried about you?

“no! no not at all, i just…i don’t know,” you try to laugh it off but the silence between you two just feels heavy instead. “why do you ask?” you question and he shrugged. 

“if you’re in trouble, i don’t need it somehow coming back to me. i got enough shit i need to worry about.” he answered and the bubble inside you popped and deflated almost immediately. 

“oh, well no need to worry about that. it’s nothing like that, you’ll be fine.” you decided to end the conversation there, a cold feeling of humiliation that prods at your shoulders and throat alerting you that it’s best to just walk away before you can say anything else that might make the situation more unbearable. 

“thanks joel.” you added, quickly making your way out the alleyway. “be careful with that thing.” he called out after you, and you feel the bubble slowly start to shamelessly inflate itself once more. 

maybe he does care. even if it’s just a little. 

��

you hid the box in the shoddy nightstand you had lugged up into your apartment from off the street one night, and exhaled lowly, pursing your lips. “this is good.” you stated to yourself. 

the whole reason why you wanted a gun, was kind of useless if you really put some actual thought into it. 

it really was just for the comfort of your mind, putting the nerves you had at ease. like a security blanket of sorts. 

fedra soldiers occasionally conduct inspections, making a mess of people’s homes to look for any contraband, firefly propaganda, weapons, anything that so much acts as an eyesore to them is grounds for permanent confiscation. 

there’s a specific solider that just makes you uncomfortable, makes your skin prickle up into sharp goosebumps and makes your stomach churn like dry gears rubbing up against each other. 

the way his eyes follow you around, rejoicing in his power over you and how you cowered away from him. 

they come in as pairs to inspect and even if they didn’t, he was still taller, stronger, heavily armed and trained and could kill you in front of a crowd of people and still face no consequences. so a singular witness wouldn't stop him from breaking the rules.

if anything, you’ve probably just put yourself in more danger carrying a weapon. but you felt that if you had it, you maybe had a fighting chance in case push came to shove. 

you collected yourself into your very depressing excuse of a bed, lifting the fraying crotched blanket over your body, pretending you were anything less than semi uncomfortable.

the next morning, you woke up with a slightly sore feeling that resided in just about every crevice of your body but you ignore it, as it’s a common thing to wake up to if you’ve got what basically feels like laying on a napkin as a bed, and using what feels like an even thinner napkin as a blanket. 

you readied yourself to participate in street clean up, since you had to take on more shifts than usual to make up for the hefty chunk of rations you gave to joel. 

—

a bandana resided around your nose, neatly but tightly tied behind your head, doing…definitely not enough to cover the stench of cleaning the sludge off the streets. 

"the fuck would i need coffee beans for asshole? hit me up when you’ve actually got good shit to trade.” you overheard two guys a few feet away from you bickering, your ears perking up at the mention of coffee beans. 

you remembered joel vaguely mentioning how he’d kill for a cup of coffee, and you agreed on that sentiment, even though you’ve never once had coffee.  the point being, he’d been out of coffee for awhile, unable to find anyone who has it, and you figured maybe scoring him a bag would be a nice sign of gratitude for the pistol. 

you pulled down your bandana, walking over to the guy once the other one walked off. “hi, um i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard you have coffee beans? i’d be willing to trade for them.” 

“i don’t take kindly to nosy—“ he cut himself off mid sentence once he turned to look at you, his eyes dragging up and down your body and you wondered in that moment if it was worth the hassle of talking to this. thing. 

but then you thought of joel, and how maybe he’d smile at you, thank you with a tight bear hug and suddenly, it did all seem worth it. 

“yeah, yeah i’d definitely be happy to trade with you,” he grinned and you laughed, trying to hide your disgust with fake excitement. “great! what would you want for it? i have some spare shampoo bars, a pair of wool socks i was saving for winter, or—“ 

he cut you off this time, leaning into your space closer and you instinctively backed away. “i was thinking maybe something different.” he alluded to something that made cleaning up literal shit off the street seem a lot more pleasant. 

your face fell and you lifted up your bandana. “yeah, nevermind. thanks anyway.” 

you turned on your heel and he groaned, calling after you. “the socks…” he huffed, rubbing the side of his chin. “are they soft?” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

you tugged down the bandana again, smiling brightly. “very!” 

—

you scheduled another meet up with joel, excited to gift him the bag of coffee beans. 

you were slightly sad to let go of the socks, your feet always got so cold in the winter and the nights were already starting to increase in frigidness, but it’s okay, you could always find another pair of socks again, but you didn’t know if you’d have another chance to pleasantly surprise joel like this. 

against joel’s typical judgment, he said to just stop by his apartment, feeling too tired to lug himself down into the alleyway again. 

but all you heard from that was he trusted you enough into his personal space. which, as much as joel would deny it, is true. 

he could clearly envision you apologizing to a fly for so much as being in its way, so inviting you over posed as nowhere near a threat. 

you knocked at his door, hiding the bag behind your back before he opened it. the wind got knocked out of you once more at the sight of him. he was very much older than you, easily the age of a man who could be your father, but that didn’t erase any of his attractiveness. 

in the deepest part of your subconscious, you knew that that’s what added onto it. 

“hi!” you chirped and he stepped to the side, widening his door to let you in. “hi.” he repeated, drier but, not unhappily. 

“what’d you wanna trade for again?” he asked, his hand rubbing the side of his stubbly jaw, and you had to look away, knowing you’d just watch him in silence if you didn’t. 

“actually,” you hummed, nearly bursting at the seems with glee. he watched you curiously, unaware of the slight smile on his face as he watched you tip toe closer with your hand still behind your back. 

“i didn’t come by to trade. i got you a gift!” he rested his palms behind him on the small table, his broad shoulders seeming even broader now and you wanted to run your hands across the expanse of them. 

“a gift?” he asked, breaking you out of your trance. he sounded genuinely shocked, almost unable to believe you. “mhm!” you nodded, a smile still etched on your features. 

“close your eyes, and open your hands.” you instructed, and he tilted the side of his head to you, wordlessly saying really? 

you nudged your chin, motioning for him to listen, your way of replying with yes, really.

he eyed you before shaking his head, standing up straight and closing his eyes, his palms bared out for you, muttering a quiet, i have no idea why i’m listenin’ to you. 

you plopped the bag of coffee into his hands, sing songing a soft “now open!” 

he opened his eyes, his lips parting in awe. he laughed out of disbelief, and your heart soared with joy as you saw him smile, and widely at that. 

“kid…you…why? i mean, god, thank you, but why?” he asked and you shrugged, rocking back and forth on your heel to your toes. “take it as a thanks for my pist-i mean tampons.” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head and putting the beans down onto the table. 

“well, thank you, that’s mighty kind of you.” he looked downward at you, and you looked back up at him, trying to memorize the way his lips were curled, the sweet lines by his eyes and the way he just seemed so happy by such a small act of kindness. 

“no biggie!” you replied, and he darted his eyes away for a moment before turning back to you. “do you know how to use your gun?” he asked and you felt your face grow hot with slight embarrassment. 

“uh. i mean you just aim and pull the trigger right?” you asked honestly and he blinked a few times before shaking his head. “okay so you don’t.” and you squinted at him. “i could teach you. get you some extra bullets too.” he remedied the half joking comment with his offer and you perked up. 

“yeah? you would?” you asked excitedly and he nodded. “‘course. you just went from tolerated, to slightly more tolerated in my book. so i’m gonna help you not accidentally shoot yourself in the foot.” 

you didn’t like how you actually felt a twinge of sadness at his obvious joke about only tolerating you. he was kidding, but sometimes it was hard to tell because he had the same monotone, slightly annoyed at everything everyone has to say, kind of voice. 

and you were a sensitive person, and even the most harmless jokes could manage to sting you. 

“well jeez aren’t you sweet.” you complimented with sarcasm. joel threw on his flannel, ignoring your comment. you stepped aside while he made his way to the door. 

“you comin?” he looked at you, opening the door behind him, waiting for you to follow. you turned around to look behind you stupidly, then back to him. “what?” you asked confusedly and he fought the urge to roll his eyes and take back his offer. 

“we’re gonna start now.” he inclined his head out the door, motioning for you to come along. and who were you to decline doing anything with joel. 

—

joel was here. in your apartment. in your space, in your air. he was sitting on your bed, the place where you’d occasionally, frequently shove your fingers into places you just knew joel would be able to reach with no effort. 

he ran his fingers over the barrel of the gun, drumming against its ridges and for a moment you felt a bit envious over the literal inanimate object. 

“cmere,” he patted the space next to him, waiting for you to be seated so he could get started. 

with wobbly legs you made your way to him, smoothing over your jeans in an attempt to secretly wipe away your clammy palms. 

“show me how you hold it.” he placed it in your hands and it felt foreign to the touch. it was heavier than you expected it to be but you tried to conceal your inexperience by holding it the way you’ve seen others handle their firearms. 

you pointed it at the door, pretending that soldier was in front of you, finger on the trigger and hands at the bottom of it, supporting your grasp. 

he observed your hold, a low hmm coming from the back of his throat. “not terrible.” he adjusted your hands, your skin latching onto his heat, claiming it as yours as his body hovered around your side. 

“how’s that feel?” he asked and you cleared your throat, blinking a few times and avoiding his close stare. “it uh, it feels better.” you answered and he clicked his tongue, nodding curtly to himself. 

“alright. now, when you run out of bullets, the magazine at the bottom might drop out but if it doesn’t, you’re gonna take it out and reload, you wanna be fast if you’re in the middle of, well whatever situations got you needing to pull out a gun.” there was a slight cadence of a joke in his gun lesson 101, and it made a giddy feeling return to your tummy. 

he reached in his back pocket, pulling out what you assumed he meant by magazine. 

he explained the logistics of your newly owned weapon, trying to use terms you’d be able to follow along with, not unaware of how you were watching and listening intently, hanging on to every word he spoke. 

you were too damn obvious. 

—

you saw more of joel after that, bumping into him in places you usually didn’t see him, yet seemingly excited every time you met. 

his aloof stare slowly turned softer when it landed on you, maybe it never changed at all but to you it definitely felt different. 

he swore it was you that had been following him, an air of playfulness in his accusations of you stalking him, but really it was him. 

he unable to admit to himself that he  wandered around the areas he knew you were usually found in, wanting to scold you for having such an easy routine to follow but he kept it to himself. 

he watched you walk beside him, taking in the sights of the town, wondering how you could possibly appreciate the hellhole that surrounded you all. 

“so how’s the coffee? any good?” you asked, turning back to look at him, feeling a hushed breath pause in your throat once you saw he was already looking at you. 

a peek of a smile ghosted over his face. “it’s good. i, i appreciate that you did that. i hope you didn’t have to trade too much for it.” guilt resided in him at the thought of you having to give more than you had just for coffee beans. he felt he wasn’t worth all that effort. 

you shook your head, laughing lightly at the memory of the trade. “no no don’t worry, just a pair of socks. they were these brown wool socks that were so soft, so i’d say it was a pretty fair trade.” 

“i’ll be on the look out for a pair like that then.” he was already figuring out who he could trade with to get you another pair of socks. “no it’s okay you don’t have to it’s-“

“hey,” his voice felt rich, calling your attention back to him. your chest went tight. “yeah?” you whispered back. 

“shut up. i’m gettin’ the socks.” there was a backbone of sternness in his lighthearted promise.

you sucked on your bottom lip through a grin before you spoke again.

“i have a confession.” you exhaled, feigning dramatics and he tilted his head towards you, watching you with worried eyes. “yeah?” 

“i lied. i’ve never had coffee before.” you lowered your head with faux shame and he gasped, shaking his head with disapproval. he paused for a moment, then turned around. 

you caught up with him, holding onto his arm, feeling hot at the taut feeling of his limb, and how he didn’t push you off. he just peered down at you, keeping you there with him. “jeez i didn’t think you’d take such offense to that,” you breathed out through a chuckle. 

“inexcusable. you’re tryin it when we get home.” the twang in his accent was something so attractive, and it only had you feeling more and more willing to do whatever he wanted. you’d drink acid if he asked of it from you in that deep southern drawl. 

you two walked back to his place, shedding a layer out of many, holding onto it as you trailed in behind him. 

he glanced over at you, then your coat. “set it down somewhere, you can have a seat.” he pointed at the round table and you quietly thanked him, hanging your coat over the back of the chair before sliding it out and sitting in it. 

“i remember you have a sweet tooth. damn near talked my head off about trading for a bag of hard candies a few months ago, so i reckon you’d like it sweet.” he mostly talked to himself when he said that, fondly remembering the way you rattled on about how you were craving for caramel drops. 

“you remember that?” you were just about swooning, unable to hide it even when joel walked back over to you, two mugs in each hand of his. “how could i not? you never let me forget it.” he set the mug down in front of you, sipping at his as he leaned back into the chair in front of you. 

you picked it up, hugging the warmth of it with your palm. you took a light sip, your eye shutting, a low quiet moan leaving your lips from around the mug once the taste landed on your tongue. 

joel stirred in his seat at the sound, busying himself with drinking from his cup to avoid making any kind of facial expressions. 

“joel,” you crooned and he felt weak. “you like it?” he asked, his lips still curled over the rim of his mug. “it’s so good, i understand why you like it so much.” 

“well, i don’t make it as sweet as that, but yeah, coffees good. not a lot of people agree.” he shrugged and you set your mug down in front of you. “can i taste yours?” 

he slid it to you and you lifted it, tasting it and almost immediately wanting to spit it out. you quickly gave it back to him, sipping the sweeter coffee to cleanse your offended palette. 

“yeah, that tastes like shit, i don’t know how you drink that.” you smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, the burnt taste not quite leaving you just yet. 

he rolled his eyes, taking a loud obnoxious slurp. “my tastebuds are just mature.” 

“mature for what? shit? once you hit a certain age do just you grow accustomed to crappy tasting things?” you were dipping into a more casual way of speaking to joel, causing his gaze that rested on you to turn into a view of amusement. 

“rich comin’ from the kid who still eats like she’s 5.” he rested his arm against the back of his chair, and you expired, feeling a bit defensive of being called a child. 

“i’m not a kid.” you muttered and he chuckled. “alright.” he agreed in sentiments but not in actuality. 

breaking the comfortable silence that filled the room you and joel shared, a loud bang rang from against the door. joel slid from out his chair, hurriedly pacing towards the door. 

before he could even open it, you already knew it was one of fedra’s soldiers. things were starting to feel a little too lax, it was only a matter of time until they came knocking down doors again. 

your throat went dry, stomach cinching with anxiety once he stepped inside, the same soldier that had you saving up your rations week after week to be able to afford the pistol from joel. 

his eyes flickered between you and joel, scoffing to himself. “what’s this?” he asked you, ignoring joel who stood right in front of him. 

“nothing.” you answered, intimidation and fear already prickling at your skin and racing down your spine. 

joel stood in front of you, shielding you away from him, and slowly, the fear lifted itself itself away from you, but not fully. not while he’s still here. 

“aren’t there usually two of you who do these searches?” joel questioned, watching as the solider jabbed at various things of joel’s with the tip of his rifle. 

“partners out sick. so y’all get the pleasure of havin just me.” he flashed an ugly grin at you, bending to the side to see your uncomfortable face behind joel’s back. 

he walked around, haphazardly lifting and tossing things about. 

“oh?” he bent down, squatting by joel’s bed. “what’s this?” he waved around a baggy full of white powder. joel stiffened, his nostrils flaring in anger. 

“that’s not mine and you know it.” and surprisingly it actually wasn’t. 

joel had just sold the last of his pills to a sad sap unable to sleep without them, and that was a month ago. the asshole was planting drugs on him. 

“this is not only grounds for confiscation but imprisonment. tough spot you’re in miller.” joel exhaled angrily from a quiet ragged breath. 

“unless,” he came up to you, pushing past joel to cup your chin. “she wants to, convince me why i shouldn’t take you down for this contraband.” you flinched from his touch but it only made him hold on tighter. 

joel snatched his wrist away, stepping back in front of you. “you don’t have to involve her. what do you want? rations, half of my next haul? what?” he gritted and the solider just laughed. 

“you think i don’t have easy access to all that? i want something you can’t easily trade for.” he leaned to the side, waving at you. 

joel pushed him backward, triggering the response of a rifle being shoved in his face. joel didn’t so much as waver, grabbing the neck of the firearm, pointing it away from him while his foot came and rammed down onto the front of his shin, successfully knocking him down with a loud wail of pain. 

it happened so fast all you could do was sit and watch, frozen in place as joel lost himself on top of the solider, pounding and pounding and pounding his fists in relentlessly, not stopping despite the ache trickling over across his knuckles. 

you heard a sick squelch followed by cracking noises and you knew that should’ve made you fear joel. it should’ve made you run out the door and never look back. but it did the opposite. you never wanted to stay more. 

you watched with wide pupils as he rose up from the beaten and bloodied solider, breathing hard and loud, stumbling upward to a leant stance, staring at the lifeless solider on his wood floors. 

he wiped his nose with the clean, unbloodied slate of his forearm, before dropping it back to his side to lean forward and spit over the body. 

he turned back to you, scanning your face for any hurt, fear or disgust. 

but there was none. 

before you could say anything, he spoke aloud his thoughts. “i gotta get rid of the body.” 

“do you need help?” you extended a hand willing to assist and joel shook his head a hard no. “you saw enough, you don’t need to see more. i’ll be back.” 

you stood up, pressing a hand to his chest, looking at him with watery eyes. he wanted to wipe them away from you, but he couldn’t. not with the blood that was already starting to cake under his nails. 

“joel i want to help.” you admitted, soft voice trembling and joel leaned forward, his face close to yours. “you should probably go sweetheart, you don’t need to get wrapped up further in this.” his words traveled along the coast of a gentle but solid whisper. 

“i don’t want to go.” your voice barely carrying itself loud enough as a reply, eyes following joel’s actions of walking away from you to roll up the soldier in a thin fraying carpet. 

“you should.” is all he said, walking out the door with a body dragging behind him. 

—

you went against any logical thought process whatsoever and stayed. you decided you’d make yourself useful, feeling as though the events that continually replayed in your head felt like your fault. 

you sat on your knees, scrubbing at the blood that had already set in the floors. 

you scrubbed until it hurt, and you kept going despite the fact. you dunked the scrubber into the bucket of soapy water turned brown, squeezing the excess onto the floor before rubbing it in. 

the door clicked open and your head whipped towards it, heart leaping in your chest once you saw joel stumble in. 

“hi.” you breathed and he looked at you with surprise. he saw the work you busied yourself with, locking the door before making his way to you. “what’re you doin’?” he asked gently, yet again in shock at how unabashedly kind you were to him. 

“didn’t want the blood just sitting here on your floors. ‘least i could do since it’s my fault that all happened.” you sniffled, feeling guilty at what had transpired. though the guilt was there, a sense of gratitude was even larger. 

he did that, for you. 

he bent down to catch your watery gaze. “no, no that was not your fault. just got a little carried away. ‘don’t want you thinkin’ that you had anything to do with my choices, okay?” he leaned to the side, catching your eyes that were avoiding his. “okay?” he repeated, waiting for you to say it back to him. 

“okay.” you mouthed just below a whisper. he took the bucket and the scrubber, walking to the sink. you of course, trailed behind him. 

he lifted his sleeves, turning on the faucet to rinse off the dried blood on his hands. 

he picked at under his nails, scraping the blood off wherever he saw it. which was, every inch of his hands. 

his body faced back to you, his now cleaned hands picking up yours, seeing specks of blood and dirt splattered on your hands from cleaning his floor. 

he washed you clean, and all you could do was admire him. how gentle he was taking care of you. he rinsed your skin clear of blood, drying you up and letting your hands rest back to your sides. 

“i’m sorry you had to see that.” he apologized, feeling ashamed of how little he was in control of his anger in that moment. 

you shook your head, hands shakily resting on his chest. “no, i don’t want you to be sorry.” you murmured, eyes landing on his lips. you swallowed back any fears that held you back from showing your affections any longer. 

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. with a pleasant surprise, he kissed back, no hesitation in his actions. his hold fell to your waist, squeezing, pulling you into him. 

he took in your air, and you gave it to him, happily, willing to offer it in all its abundance. your hand rose to his cheek, palm resting over his beard. his thumb rested on your chin, rubbing it softly. 

he forced himself to pull away, his hands selfishly unable to remove themselves from your waist. “sweetheart this isn’t a good idea. you’re too young, and i’m not a good man. i think i just showed you that.” he tried to warn you, hushed and gently, with honest intentions of keeping you away from something you’d regret being involved with. 

but the only thing you’d regret is never being with him. 

“i’m not, and i don’t care what you do joel, i want you, all of you, want you so bad,” you all but whimpered, trying to press yourself against him more. 

he was a greedy man at heart, pulling you back up for a harder kiss. there was a hot hunger that was electric between you two, a burning ignition that pulled you two in, tying an in separable twine amidst your bodies. but neither of you ever had any intentions of undoing it anyways. 

he held the side of your cheek, the other traveling from your lower back to your ass, squeezing it hard, using his grip to pull you in closer, grinding up against you right there. 

you were so needy for him that it rattled your bones. a wet clicking noise elicited from your mouths, tongues brushing up together messily. your chin dribbling with saliva. 

you moaned in his mouth, feeling the hand that was on your cheek move to hold you by the back of your head, his tilting to kiss you deeper. 

he untangled your lips, keeping himself not even an inch away, just to share the breath between you two. your tongue flicked over his lips, biting down on the bottom one before lurching forward for him once more. 

he groaned in your mouth, lifting his hand to come down and spank your ass. you whined, back arching and crotch brushing up against his. 

you two stumbled towards his bed, your back falling into the mattress. he crawled on top of you, ridding himself of his boots and you of yours. 

his knee rested on one side of your hip, the other coming between your thighs. your chest rose up into his, your back lifting off the sheets and hands coming up to paw at his chest. 

without any reservations, you rubbed against his knee, struggling to kiss him back. “feel good little girl?” he sounded gruff, strained voice trying it’s best to not moan at the way your wet little cunt managed to create a wet spot on his knee. 

“so good joel,” you gaped, kissing his neck desperately. 

“shouldn’t be touchin’ you like this, sweet little thing like you gettin handled by someone like me,” he breathed through a series of heavy pants, his hands wandering all along your sides, your hips, your thighs. 

“don’t want anyone else but you.” you whimpered truthfully, holding his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest, right above your heart. you let it drift to the left, shuddering when he squeezed your breast. 

he kissed your pulse, teeth baring out against it. he rested his hand on your lower belly, rubbing the skin under your tank top. “can i touch you?” he whispered, his beard tickling the space just below your ear. 

you nodded, running your hands all along his strong back. “please,” you bucked your hips upward, begging with not only your words but your body. 

he exhaled out a quiet chuckle, fingers working to undo your jeans, tugging them down until they were forgotten on the floor. 

he dipped down beneath your underwear, his cock throbbing in his boxers at how wet you were. so soaked it was pathetic. he hadn’t let his hand drift down to the sweet place between those thighs of yours til then, and yet you were as wet as if he had his tongue pressed up against you. 

actually, that’s not a bad idea.

he circled around your clit, watching as you revealed in it, his fingers being thicker than yours, making the sensation all the more intense. 

“joel,” you repeated his name, voice wavering in breathy gasps, his fingers rolling the sensitive button of yours. he slipped a finger inside you, eyes peering up and watching as your back rose just a little, hips pressuring downward and further onto his finger, taking him all in. 

“so soft,” he murmured, lowering himself to press a kiss to your hip. he rolled his hips into the mattress, trying ease the pressure building up beneath his jeans. 

he was too turned on, this young pretty girl he’s had his eye on for a year was sprawled in his bed, soft and soaked cunt all ready and pliable just for him and him alone. 

he could die a happy man. 

his lips encircled your clit, tongue drawing around it while he pressed into a familiar spongy spot within you. 

you sucked in a sharp gasp, the sweet sound turning into a high pitched whine. “please,” you sobbed, hands flying down to keep his head in place. 

he fucked you with his fingers, curling right up against the spot that was making you dizzy, his tongue and lips working perfectly on your little clit. 

tears flowed down your face and on his pillow, your hand coming up to your mouth trying to lessen the volume of your cries. 

“j-joel, please i,” unable to formulate any sentences, you just gave up, giving in to your moans. 

the way you squeezed around his fingers, sucking him with greed and need, made him wonder how that’d feel around his cock when he’d get to finally shove it in you. 

he growled at the thought, sucking hard around your clit. you whimpered, pushing down onto his tongue more. 

“s’too much, i cant, i,” your head rolled around his pillow, his scent, his touch, his tongue suffocating you in the most heavenly way possible. 

you squirmed in his hold, unable to escape his grip, unable to escape the way his tongue pressed flat and hard up on your clit. his beard brushed up against your thighs, pulling a giggly moan from you. 

“perfect little pussy,” he grunted, kissing your clit before dragging his tongue slowly, up and down languidly. 

he rested his forearm over your lower tummy, pressing hard and feeling the corner of his lips perk at the way you gasped, shuddering loudly and trembling in his mouth at the action. 

“joel, i think i’m—ooh,” you spoke tearfully, poor little throat already getting hoarse from crying out his name. 

“feels good huh baby,” that little twang in his deep voice curled off his words just right. all you could do was whimper a shaky sogood joel s’good. 

his finger pressed up against that spot inside you, his tongue on your clit being the sweetest cherry on top of the tooth rotting sundae. 

you were cumming, hiccuping his name unashamedly. your plush thighs coming around to cage him in, to which he paid no mind to, if anything it excited him, his rough hands gripping your ass and pulling you deeper into his mouth. 

the wind up deep inside you finally released, flickering flashes of burning hot lights spread across your limbs, slowly fizzling out as you went limp in his bed. 

he didn’t let up however, his tongue grown addicted to the way your perfect clit felt on the wet muscle. 

you whimpered, struggling to push him away from your cunt. it was just too good and he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“joel n-no more s’too much,” you pleaded weakly, and he took slight pity, pressing one last kiss before rising back up to you. 

he pressed his fingers to your lips, groaning quietly with approval at the way you took them in with no verbal orders needed. 

you were so good for him, his sweet little girl. 

he pulled them out, resting on your plump bottom lip before moving it out the way to kiss you. you moaned deeply into his mouth, bringing your arms around him, hands traveling up to his hair. 

his salt and peppered hair felt soft, weaved through your gentle fingers. you lightly tugged on it, feeling mischief in your veins at the ministration. he growled, biting down on your lip and laughing as you yelped. 

he held your jaw, pressing hard kisses all along your face, speaking stilly, his inflection so deep, so masculine, so old and wise, had you hypnotized, his words that were reserved for your ears only, were something you’d cradle to yourself forever. 

“told myself i wouldn’t crack, i wouldn’t have you like this, you’re too young, you don’t know what you want, but fuck,” he dragged his fingers up your folds, chuckling to himself at the way you whimpered, curling into his touch immediately. 

“now that i got you, ‘fraid i can’t let you go sweetheart. i’m a selfish man at heart.” he admitted, kissing your jaw. you just about exploded in that moment. you had no idea he felt the same for you as you did him, and it was the most powerful, enlightening feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“i’m selfish too,” you whispered back, puckering your lips to kiss him. “didn’t let anyone else touch me but you. just wanted you,” you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, unaware to how that little admission made the precum collecting at his tip leak out even more. 

his grasp on your hip tightened, squeezing it as he buried his face in your neck. “fuck baby, gonna give this old man a heart attack sayin’ things like that.” 

your shaky hands went for his belt, tugging on it with need. “want you joel, please?” you begged, lips pressed to his ear. he didn’t need to be begged any more, he undid his belt with one hand, pulling it off his waist, letting it join the pile of your discarded jeans and boots. 

before he could take himself out, your hands found themselves under his flannel, desperate and anxious to see what he’s been concealing away from you. “off, please,” and he wanted to say no, feeling not as proud in his physique as he once was about 20 years ago. 

“nothin special to see baby,” he countered and you shook your head. “it’s you. it’s special to me.” you suspired airily, already feeling your tummy get tight at the thought of him hovering above you, shirtless. 

he took in a deep breath, letting you unbutton his flannel. 

you undid each button, trying your best to not rip them clean off despite your rushing efforts. you slid it off his body, exhaling in awe at the sight in front of you. 

you sucked on your bottom lip, hands traveling across his broad shoulders, fingers tracing his collarbones, dragging around the scarred areas from past wounds, admiring the few freckles on his chest that trail up to his shoulders. 

he watched you, never having felt so admired before. “enjoyin’ yourself baby?” he teased, his thumb rubbing over your chin. 

“mhm,” you nodded, not caring how it looked to be gawking at him. 

you could feel the muscle from the layer of life and age over his stomach, your eyes then falling to the bulge of his biceps, instantly growing obsessed, squeezing at the muscles. 

“you’re so beautiful joel.” you spoke with such true sincerity and he tittered quietly, shaking his head. “thank you baby,” 

your wandering hands finally fell to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper, eager to see what else he’d been keeping away from you. 

he let you, more than ready to feel your touch in the place he craved the most. he was tired of having to fuck his calloused fist, trying hard to pretend it was your cute hand touching him. 

you pulled him out, feeling your jaw go slack at the length of it all. “jesus joel,” you swallowed hard, steadily jerking him off, feeling slightly unsure if you’re doing it right. you were telling the truth, when you said you’d never let anyone touch you, too hopelessly in love with joel to even imagine allowing anyone to see you in the way he’s got you. 

he grunted, unintentionally bucking his hips into the tunnel of your hand. he was thick, heavy in your clutch, veins running along the side of it, his tip round and fat, almost red with droplets of precum leaking out. 

“gonna show you what those little boys could never give you,” he promised, and you believed him, gazing at the way he reluctantly pulled away from your hold, knowing if he let you stroke him any longer he’d cum all over your hand. 

he circled your clit with the head of his cock, shuddering a semblance of a breathy moan at the sensation. “gonna be a bit of a stretch baby, tell me if it’s too much okay? i’ll try to go slow.” he kissed his promises of gentleness into your temple. 

he inched in, hands around either side of your head, foreheads pushed together while your mouth fell open, sucking in all the air in the room. the stretch was very unfamiliar, but not unwelcomed.

you held onto his shoulders for support, grasping onto them tightly, pretty plump trembling lips crying out moans that would replay in joel’s head on lonely nights. you felt fuller than you ever have before joel was even fully inside you. 

he was nudging up against spots in you that you had no idea could feel so good, and if he angled his hips any higher, the fat head of his cock would be kissing your cervix. 

“can barely fit myself in ya’ baby,” he groaned, head falling from your forehead to bury itself in your neck, kissing your hot skin to try to calm him down before he lost control and rammed himself inside you. 

your calves rested on his hips, whimpering while trying to lift yourself up in an attempt to get him to push himself further in. 

“more joel, please?” your pleas were accompanied by sponged kisses just below his ear. “gonna take it all for me baby?” he questioned you, inching in just that much deeper, and you shut your eyes, nails already beginning to crescent themselves in his back. “mhm, gonna take it all,” you swore, more than eager to have him fully within you, as close as could be. 

he jutted his hips in, knocking the wind out of you. you bit down on his shoulder, whining a drool filled mess with the way he started to fuck you, rough hardened hands molding softly around the curves of your waist. 

he was bathing in the way your little cunt took him in, squeezing around him so good just like he knew you would. he took his time, rocking into you in and out, holding your shaking body close to him. 

you could feel every ridge and vein in you, hooked onto the way he filled you up, stretching you beyond belief, making you bounce upward with every movement. 

his hands slid down over the smooth skin of your thighs, widening them further open before pushing them up, growing impatient, achingly hungry to be deeper in you. you struggled for air at his fast actions, eyes immediately rolling back at the way he began to fuck into you. 

“can’t help myself, m’sorry baby, pussy’s too good, shit,” a gruff sigh of relief leaving his mouth at the way you took him in. you didn’t care, you were thrilled to take whatever he gave you, and however hard he saw fit. 

“feels s’good, feel so full,” you cried, translucent tears free falling, the aggressive pistons of his hips causing your swollen clit to ache, begging to be touched. 

“feel me right here huh baby?” he rubbed over the bulge in your tummy and you squealed, wriggling away from the overwhelming stimulation. “ha,” you strung out, arching up into him. 

“yeah, you do,” he taunted breathlessly, loving how you were a wreck beneath him. “in so deep joel,” you mumbled against his shoulder and he kissed your hair, nodding knowingly. “i know babygirl but you’re takin me so well,” he praised, feeling so proud of his sweet girl taking his cock like a pro. 

“never gonna let anyone see you like this?” he pressed deep there, corners of his lips curling when you weep, squeezing at his biceps. “never gonna let anyone have you like this?” you shook your head, sobbing a string of no joel no, never, just you.

“perfect, tight fuckin’ cunt is all for me, aint sharin’ with no one,” he held you by the back of your thighs even further, stressing how serious he was, set on fucking himself into your soaked hole until there was a permanent shape of him within you. a shape no man could ever fit into. 

sobs of uncontrollable pleasure were the only thing you could feel in your veins, pumping your blood full of dopamine. his balls tightened, hitting the fullness of your ass, and he let himself grow sporadic, let himself take you. his fingers found your desperate clit, chuckling to himself when you croon tearfully, thanking him pathetically for touching you. 

“can i cum, please?” your requests only made him twitch inside you, his sweet girl was so polite. “go ahead baby, let it out,” he leaned down to kiss you, swallowing up your moans and cries. 

your body jerked under him, the tight vice of your cunt gripping onto him while he rubbed over your clit, pulling out the second wave of an orgasm from you. 

you broke apart from his lips, still just a breadth of a gasp away from them, brushing up against the ghost of a kiss as you pressed your forehead to his, sobbing his name while your body trembled from how hard you were cumming.  

“shit,” he slammed a hand against the wall above your head, shoving himself impossibly further in you, your legs shaking on either side of him. “good fuckin’ girl, squeezing me so goddamn good,” he fucked you through your orgasm, kneading over your breasts, groping at them and pinching at your pebbling nipples. 

you fell limp, letting yourself drown in the unraveling lengths of your climax. 

“gonna cum baby, where d’you want it?” he asked, feeling his lower stomach start to tighten up. “inside, wanna feel all of you,” you whined, kissing all along his shoulder and collarbones, messy and ravenous. 

his face fell to the crook of your neck, biting down on your soft flesh when he came, impaling you once, twice, ending it with one last hard thrust as he came in you, pumping you full of his cum. 

he didn't feel himself soften inside you, but with each of the passing minutes he decided he’d better pull out then or else he’d never leave. you winced from the removal, arms coming around to hold him with a clinginess.

he collapsed on top of you, and you sighed contently, the full weight of him resting on you could’ve honestly sent you into the deepest nap you’d ever have.  

you felt his cock, still hardened on your thigh. with sleepy eyes you looked up at him, lips on his stubbly jaw when you spoke. "you're still hard," you murmured. his fingers drew up and down your spine, and you shivered, arching yourself into him.

"that's okay, it'll go down soon." his throat got tight when he felt you wrap your hand around him once more. "we don't...have to ignore it." you trailed off, bitten lips pressing delicate kisses laced with ulterior motives into his tanned skin.

you wanted joel to use you as many times as he wanted to, a new compulsion flowing rampantly in your veins. now that you had finally gotten a taste of joel, you wanted to gorge yourself on him.

"you sure you can take it?" he asked through a hushed breath of arousal. you nodded, kissing at his lips with need.

he didn't need to be told twice, he repositioned you, letting you fall back onto his pillow with him hovering above you. he rolled you onto your stomach, holding you by your hip to lift you just enough for him to shove his flannel right against your cunt.

his rough palms encased your ass, groping at the thick flesh. he dipped down, spreading your ass and watching as his cum poured out of you. he groaned quietly to himself. you whimpered, turning to look over your shoulder as joel pushed his fingers inside, shoving his cum back into you. your chin dropped, face falling back into his pillow when he pumped his fingers inside you, chuckling darkly to himself at the way your ass squirmed against him.

every little swivel your hips made was met with friction from his flannel on your clit. the hem of it just so happened to be pressed right there. he slapped his cock over on your ass, exhaling loudly at the way it jiggled from his actions.

he aligned himself once more with your little hole, pushing himself in with ease due to the slick left from a mixture of his cum and yours. you whined, hands flying backward, desperate for any solace from his hands in yours. he held your wrists at the small of your back with one hand, the other supporting his weight to lean forward when he pushed himself all the way inside you. you cried out, his name falling out of your mouth like a mantra, your legs trembling beneath him.

he was in you so much deeper this way, stretching you out more than you thought he already could. his hips snapped up against your  ass, fully within you and hitting every single tingly spot inside you along the way.

you were already out of breath, your lungs and brain vacant of anything except for him, for joel. "feel you in my tummy," you hiccuped, tilting your head to look at him through teary eyes. he breathed out a lazy, cocky laugh, moving forward to kiss your forehead, unintentionally shoving his cock in even deeper, feeling a sense of pride at the way you gasped and whimpered at the deep intrusion.

"i know huh baby?" he chuckled in your ear, and you shivered, feeling your face grow warm from how flustered he made you feel. he was so dirty, any filters he once had were gone, the tight grip your cunt had on his cock made him downright ruthless.

he pressed his hands at your lower back, letting yours fall free to cling onto his sheets. he held you down that way, fucking into you with a newfound source of energy, his grey hairs falling over his forehead, sweat glistening over the ripples of muscles along his biceps and abdomen, his whole being going into pounding himself into you.

he wanted you to be so full of him that everyone would know it just by looking at you. the possessiveness he tried to suppress for so long had come out, and he wasn't sure if he could go back to hiding it again. but that wasn't on his mind, not when you were clenching around him, sobbing his name loud enough for everyone outside to hear.

his grunting fell to your ears, it was near pornographic, including the way you bounced with each and every thrust of his, just watching it made his chest get tight.

he needed you closer.

he pulled you back up from under your arms, keeping you flush against his chest while he continued fucking you. you were growing limp, body worn out from the rigor he put you through. but he held onto you, keeping you in his arms. his arm went under your tits, a sneaky hand coming up and groping at one, pinching at the nipple.

he buried his face in your neck, filling your ear with the low growl of his groans. "such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this, but i think you like it, and you know what else?," he drew in a heavy breath, "i think you like being fucked like a little ragdoll," you couldn't answer, he was right, but you could hardly focus on any words, his cock rendering you a teary eyed moaning mess.

"can't even respond when spoken to," he slowed the roll of his hips, hitting you in deep and slow, letting you hear him instead of the loud wet rhythm of your cunt being fucked into. "that's okay, i'll still take care of you," he chuckled, returning back to his rough pace.

"so good, make me feel so good joel," you managed to finally cry out in a series of strewn moans. his fingers trailed themselves down to your clit, rubbing in tight little circles. " i know baby, cum for me, show me how good i make you feel."

you wriggled around in his hold, your third orgasm of the night was thick in heft, a heavy wave of intense stimulation clearing your vision and leaving a white glittering hue instead. you felt joel everywhere, from the way he was buried in your cunt, to the way his hips were clasped over the curve of your ass, fitting into you like a puzzle piece.

the fervent circles being drawn over your clit was the thing that pushed you over, your head falling backward onto his shoulder, his turn to be serenaded by a string of your pretty moans. "good babygirl, did so good for me." he cooed in your ear, pressing a kiss behind it. "thank you," you meekly replied in a breathless voice.

you were the weakest you've ever felt, your poor spent body still being held upright as joel chased down his own orgasm. "gonna let me cum in you again baby? want more of it?" he panted in your ears. "please, want it joel, please,"

he gripped onto your hips, feeling his own stutter, before he pushed in deeply, stilling inside as he came in thick ropes. he finally softened, slowly pulling out of you. you winced again at the loss, feeling suddenly cold and empty. you collapsed on his bed, reaching out for him.

he laid beside you, pulling your leg up and over his waist, running a hand up the expanse of your thigh. your eyes fell shut tiredly, enjoying the comfortable sound of the two of you trying to catch your breaths.

a part of you was worried he was going to break the silence, afraid he'd call the whole thing a mistake, and lecture you on how he isn't the type of man who does relationships. you knew all of that, you just hoped he wouldn't say it and just let you soak in the moment.

almost nervously, his hand came to dance across your cheekbone softly, wanting to memorize the way your skin felt to his. "do you regret that?" he murmured and you opened your eyes, shocked at the question.

you leaned into his hand, curling your own over his. "no, never joel, why would you ask that?"

he sighed, scooting closer to you. "I'm not a good man, sweetheart, i'm giving you a chance to leave." he spoke above an octave of silence. you frowned, shaking your head. "i don't care about anything that you've done in the past or what you'll do in the future. i just...want to be here, with you, in any way you'll let me." you admitted, wishing you could say the one thing you've been harboring for a year, but you knew you needed to keep that to yourself just a little longer.

"if i had a bigger conscious i wouldn't let you," his hands pulled you into the hold of his arm that came over your waist. "lucky for me then that you're not the good man you claim to be." you whispered, the scent of coffee on your breath enveloping his senses, and in that moment, he had a realization.

he thought about how nice, how domestic it would be to wake up and share a cup of coffee with you every morning, before you had to face the day, at least you could share a moment of peace together.

"yeah," a trace of a smile grew over his lips. "you're right. i'm not." he rolled on top of you, cupping your cheeks in his large palms. "you're makin' an unwise choice little girl," a quiet rumble rested on your lips.

your arms came around his shoulders and you sighed a half laugh. "i know. i don't care."

[soelstress]

I Don’t Mind Falling For You

Pairing: Curtis Everett x female!reader

Summary: What happens when the grumpy hermit meets the town klutz?

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , sex/smut, p in v sex , unprotected sex , handjob , vaginal fingering , some language

A/N 1 - This is my second joint submission for @steviebbboi 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge and @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hoes Hootenanny. Sorry it's a few days late!

A/N 2 - Prompts - - A: "What?" B: "I never realized how nice your smile is" (Person A flushing then rolling their eyes) -"You have no idea what you're doing to me" - Disaster character with grumpy -I’m mad that you’re always hurting yourself- character - Possessive/or protective manhandling!BB - Grouchybb! who is only soft with you - "Just one more I promise"

As a bonus, I asked Yenzy for two spins on the trick-or-treat wheel of potential doom... and for this one I chose the drunken confession!

A/N 3 - Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work - GIF taken from google but page was listed for @evansensations

A/N 4 - Please let me know if I've missed a warning, knowing me it's more than likely. Hope you all enjoy ☺️

No. Not a chance. There was nothing that could change his mind. Curtis stared out the window to the view of the forest and saw the sun break through the trees, almost like it was trying to burst into the quiet haven he built.

After being betrayed by people he thought for years to be allies and lost several friends who he considered to be family, Curtis had gathered only a change of clothes and a few items of sentimental value before relocating to this tiny town surrounded by trees for miles in a sea of green. Upon finding a cabin that was isolated and a small distance from the town he bought it and kept to himself. Twice a month when he ventured into town for groceries, he avoided speaking to anyone and usually answered with short grunts if required. He became known as the grumpy hermit and people tended to avoid him, which suited him just fine. That had been his routine… until you crashed into his life. Literally. 

Curtis had been walking through the grocery store when a blur barrelled into his chest. His arms framed the unexpected mass and he managed to catch his balance before looking down. Big eyes twinkled up at him, the colour shining against blushing cheeks. “Sorry, I guess gravity still works huh?” Blinking in surprise at your question, his head cocked when you giggled softly. When he realised he was still holding you, he slowly let go. "Thanks for catching me” you smiled at him before walking past. Curtis watched you before glancing around to see if you had tripped over an object or maybe slipped but there was nothing in sight. 

There were a few instances that followed when you slipped, tripped or fell around Curtis. At first he wasn’t sure if you were somehow purposely trying to interact with him but when he saw you fall in front of the local sheriff who helped you up then proceeded to laugh about it with you, Curtis approached the sheriff and asked about you. Though highly surprised that Curtis was speaking to him, the sheriff understood why he was asking about you. “Poor girl. She’s a sweetheart but real accident prone. She could get a papercut from a closed book, and ought to wear a suit of bubble wrap. Never gets down about it though, always laughs it off” the sheriff shook his head fondly.

After a few more incidents involving Curtis, you once again found yourself in the arms of the rumoured grumpy hermit and took a moment to observe him. Black beanie pulled low on his head which hid his hair, pink lips set in a straight line beneath the dark beard covering his face. His blue eyes warmed at the sight of you, and your customary blush deepened. Your usual self depreciation was cut off when he spoke first. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were falling for me”. His eyes widened, amazed he’d actually said something to you. 

“So long as you’re there to catch me, I don’t mind falling for you” you murmured back, suddenly shy under his gaze.

You offered to buy him a drink as thanks for his continued efforts of stopping you from face planting the ground, and with a little coaxing Curtis began to open up. It continued from there, with him asking you to dinner. You suggested a picnic as an alternative, having gathered from various townsfolk that Curtis didn’t enjoy being around people.

Curtis agreed and had driven you to a spot near his cabin that was peaceful and secluded. After a gentle bit of prying, Curtis began to tell you about the work he was doing on his cabin and about enjoying the peace of a small town. Once the picnic had been packed up he drove you home and sadly turned off the engine of his truck, he had enjoyed being with you and didn’t want it to end. “I had a nice time” he mumbled and scolded himself immediately at his poor word choice. Shaking his head, he looked to see you lean in before placing a light kiss on his cheek. Before you could pull too far back Curtis’ hand framed your face, eyes darting from yours to your mouth and back again and dipped his head. His warm chapped lips pressed to yours hesitantly as he felt you relax into him before breaking the kiss. When his eyes opened there was an awestruck look on your face.

”What?”

"I never realized how nice your smile is". Eyes sparkling with little crinkles around the edges, cheeks lifted with a small hint of a smile - it was a complete contrast to his surly demeanour. Curtis flushed, rolling his eyes and grumbling bashfully before your hands cupped his jaw, thumbs tracing over the corners of his mouth. “Curtis… I mean it. You should smile more often”.

And so he did. At least with you. He’d asked you to be his girlfriend after the next date. It had been a few months now since that first date. He was still constantly amazed at how you maintained your positive outlook despite the numerous non-stop mishaps you endured - tripping over thin air, falling upstairs, bumping into every sharp corner possible, cutting or burning your fingers while cooking -  but the protective side of him was irritated that you were constantly having these misfortunes and there was nothing he could do about it. Whenever he grumbled about your injuries, you’d boop his nose and deliver one of your lines.

”If I was a superhero, my power would be unintended collateral damage”.

”I’ve got a frequent visitor card for the hospital. Doc said every tenth visit is free”.

When he saw movement in the window reflection, he knew you were behind him. With a deep sigh he turned to confirm his refusal but the words died on his tongue at the pout you were giving him. It was rarely used, only appearing when you truly wanted something. “Sugar…”

”Please?” You shuffled closer, winding your arms around his neck. “It’ll be fun, I promise”.

Curtis could never say no when you asked, and especially with big puppy eyes and trembling lips. Which was how he found himself carving pumpkins with you and attending a festival a few days later to view all the entries. He could feel the stares and whispers of the townsfolk. It was no secret that you two were an item, neither of you had denied it. But sightings of the two of you were rare, mainly because both of you knew this would be the reaction and Curtis’ comfort was always your first concern. So instead of eating in town, you’d pick up the food and eat at your place or Curtis’.

As you both viewed the other pumpkins, you swelled with pride and joy at Curtis not only participating in the carving but joining your outing. You knew this was outside of his comfort zone but you had attended the competition for the past few years and wanted to participate this year, also hoping to have someone share it with you. You snapped a picture of Curtis’ Jack Skellington and your owl, wincing slightly when you saw a faint red smear on the side. Of course, you had somehow sliced your hand whilst carving and Curtis had reacted in typical fashion. “Seriously, again?” he’d grumbled before cleaning and covering the cut with a dressing before kissing your hand. “Spilling blood and you’re more worried about the damn pumpkin”. 

After walking around you sat in Curtis’ lap at a picnic table sipping alcoholic apple cider. You were on your second helping, feeling a little tipsy as you didn’t drink very often. But sitting in your boyfriend's lap surrounded by his warmth and smell of cedarwood, you felt protected. Only a few people had been brave enough to speak with you, daring to face Curtis’ scowl as he held you tightly and grunting in response if greeted. When the sounds of giggles reached his ears, he nuzzled into your neck. “Something funny, sugar?”

”People think you’re this grumpy guy, all rough and rugged and… scary” you growled the last bit, trying to pull a scary face that made Curtis chuckle. “But you’re soft with me, always be gentle with my bruises”. Curtis hummed in agreement before your next words caught him off guard. “Wouldn’t mind getting some bruises from you for a change. I think you’re sexy when you’re grumpy. Strong and rough…” you giggled again, naughty thoughts swirling around your brain which caused you to squirm slightly on Curtis’ lap.

He muffled a groan as you unknowingly moved against his hardening cock. Not wanting to lose control and take advantage of you in public, he lifted you off his lap and smiled as you whined in complaint. “I’ll be right back, sugar”. He walked off, both to dispose of the empty cups but also to give him a few moments to control his desire to pin you against a tree and have his way with you.

You watched him stride away, his figure cutting through the crowds easily. Standing, you moved to stretch and winced as someone barged into you. 

“Whoops, sorry darlin’”. Offering a small smile, you tried to wave it off and head back to your table when the stranger caught your hand. “Where you rushing off to there, huh? C’mon honey, why don’t cha stick around?” He unintentionally squeezed your cut and a small yelp escaped you. “Aw, think you need a kiss to make it better”. 

Suddenly your arm was yanked from his grip and you were pulled back into an embrace you knew all too well. “She’s with me”. Curtis’ chest rumbled as he growled at the stranger. You weren’t sure if it was the words, the tone or if the stranger recognised Curtis but you didn’t remotely care. You looked up at him, caught between his iron grip and the glare that remained as he looked down at you. Without a word Curtis steered you out of the festival and toward your place which was a few minutes away. Although you knew Curtis wouldn’t hurt you, it was concerning that he hadn’t said anything to you or that his anger hadn’t faded. He’d never been like this with you before.

Beside you, Curtis was a riot of emotions. He’d barely reached a garbage can, able to get rid of the cups but not calm his imagination following your tipsy confession. Curtis always tried to be gentle with you, knowing he was bigger and stronger than you plus with your predisposition for getting injured he erred on the side of caution. Hearing his sweet little klutz say that you wanted him to be rough, that you didn’t mind him marking you set both his heart and mind racing. But your sound of pain interrupted his thoughts, concern surging through him chased by anger when he saw someone daring to touch his girl - to hurt the light in his life. Curtis rushed back to you, pulling you free and into his arms before warning the other man in a few short words. He refused to look away until the stranger melted into the crowd. When he looked at you his heart pounded furiously, feeling you soft and pliant against him. Silently, Curtis urged you to follow him. He needed to get you home, needed to check on you first before he lost all rational thought.

Hastily unlocking your door Curtis led you inside, pulling you close before closing and locking the door. Taking your injured hand, he thoroughly checked it before pressing a kiss over the irritated skin. “I want you, sweet girl. If I’m too rough, you tell me to stop and I will. Do you understand?” You nodded. “No sugar, I need to hear you say it”.

“I understand. I want you too, Curtis”. 

Curtis kissed you with a growl and pushed you against the door, one hand cushioning the back of your head as the other snaked around your back to hold you tightly. Blindly one of your hands moved to grip his coat as the other moved to his head, tugging his black beanie off and relishing the softness of his cropped dark hair before gently running your nails along his scalp. Groaning deeply Curtis’ mouth moved down your neck, his soft beard leaving a delicious tingle along the smooth flesh as he nipped and sucked. His hands lowered, cupping the globes of your behind and squeezing firmly. “You have no idea what you're doing to me". The words were whispered but you heard clearly. Bristling with barely restrained desire Curtis was a sight before you - ocean blue eyes dark and wild with lust, pink lips swollen from kissing. His big strong body sandwiched you to the door, not an inch between you. Jerking his hips, you gasped at the clothed erection nudging your core. Desperate to touch him, you rushed to release him from his constraints. Curtis let loose a soft moan as his cock was freed. Keeping your gaze locked with his you undid the button of your jeans and slid your uninjured hand through your folds, coating it in your arousal before wrapping it around Curtis’ thick hard flesh. “Fuck sugar…”. Not wanting to neglect you, his fingers slid carefully into your soaking centre and pumped at a steady rhythm. He needed you to cum, to be soft and ready for him. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes hungrily roving your face and breaths mingling as you pleasured each other. “Yes baby, just like that. Gonna take you hard and fast, make you come on my cock”. Whimpering you bucked against his hand, your hand jerked quickly which had him grinding eagerly into your touch. “You want that, sweet girl? Want me to fuck you hard?” Encouraged by your nodding, he sped up the rhythm of his fingers. “Need you to cum first. Cum all over my fingers, and I’ll fuck you so good”. His dark promise rang in your ears as the white heat suddenly burst through your body. 

As you slowly came down from your high you saw Curtis sucking his fingers clean before stripping, almost ripping his clothes off before kneeling to remove your shoes, socks, jeans and underwear. As he did you quickly shed your jacket, shirt and bra. Completely bare to each other you took a moment to look at Curtis. Strong arms, a built chest with a smattering of dark hair that trailed down to his cock and thick thighs. He truly was a sight, especially with the dark gleam in his eyes you’d never seen before. “Need you baby”. The words barely left your mouth before he was on you, hands once again squeezing your ass before lifting you up. As your legs wrapped around his waist his hand reached for his throbbing member, swiping through the slick pooling from your entrance. With a sharp thrust he was buried to the hilt within you before pounding into you with deep rapid thrusts, guiding you to meet every move. “Baby…” 

Your mewl and your desperate grip on him only fuelled the feral need to take you, to mark you and affirm you were his. Lost in his primitive drive, Curtis snarled as his hips snapped against you. “Mine. All mine”. His thick head rubbed inside you, another spark of pleasure starting to burn deep within you. “That's it sugar, cum for me” you bounced on Curtis‘ cock, head thrown back as he kept moving to prolong your pleasure. Head resting on his shoulder it took you a moment to recognise the jostling wasn’t him still fucking you, he was moving to your bedroom. He placed you on the bed, caging you. His hand gripped your wrists firmly, mindful of your injured hand. The other raised your legs higher so he could sink deeper into you and began his punishing rhythm again. Your hips met his, bodies becoming slick with sweat. 

When your third crest of pleasure started to rise, you shook your head. “Curtis I can’t”. 

"Just one more, I promise." Curtis ground against you, circling his hips. “Just. One. Fucking. More”. Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “Sugar… I’m gonna… fuck, need you to cum now baby. For me. Only me”. 

You wailed as the band snapped and sent you spiralling, Curtis roaring his own release and holding you tightly. Shivers wracked his body as he tenderly pulled out carefully and smiled softly as he felt you clench, trying to hold onto him despite being overstimulated. His smile froze as he saw the marks on your neck from where he had feasted and faint bruises where he gripped you tightly. Your hand caught his chin, and his breath caught at the sight of you beneath him, hair fanned out on the pillow, eyes sparkling with love, body flushed from desire. “It’s ok baby” you murmured. “I wanted you to be rough with me, to mark me. Or did you not mean it when you said I’m yours?” Though the tone was teasing, he heard a slight note of worry. 

Shaking his head, he lips ghosted up over the marks on your neck before finding your lips. “Oh sugar… you really don’t know what you’ve done to me, what you mean to me do you?” Gently he rolled so you were side by side, tucked against him. “You’re the best thing in my life. My light, my sweet girl. And to see somebody else touch you, hurt you… I won’t let that happen baby. I want to protect you, to keep you safe”. 

Humming, you nuzzled against his chest and heard the steady beat of his heart. The sound lulled you to sleep. “My grumpy guy” you laughed softly. 

Curtis knew he couldn’t always stop you from falling, only swearing that he would be there to catch you, to take care of you and protect you from the rest of the world. His sweet klutz.

[crownedghostprince]

That’s My Emotional Support Wife!

Legolas x Female!Accident Prone!Reader

Fandom: The Hobbit

Legolas and (Y/N) had courted for about a decade before finally deciding to marry.  (Y/N) was the daughter of Lord Elrond, just slightly younger than Arwen, and after marriage she moved to Mirkwood to live with Legolas and her father-in-law the King, Thranduil.  Legolas didn’t mind how accident prone (Y/N) was, sometimes it was even sort of cute.  And now there are 13 dwarves in the cells of Mirkwood having to be dealt with whilst the Elves continue their parties, patrols and usual antics that the dwarves were unaware of until that day.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None.

Note: This is sort of silly, so if you enjoy a fun fanfiction, this is the one to read! (Y/C) - stands for (Your Choice) and (Your Colour).

Word Count: 2,021

[Third Person Perspective]

(I couldn’t find any attached link to this picture from Pinterest, but it was under the account name “The Facegirl” when I found it. They seem cool from what I checked out.)

The dwarves were not happy to be locked up in the cells of Mirkwood under King Thranduil’s rule.  The elves would just pass by here and there as if it was an ordinary path to take.  These cells weren’t in dungeons or anything like you might expect, for the bars of the cells were incredibly tough and strong.  Therefore, there was no need to put the cells in such an inconvenient spot and instead it was closer to the main area where most Wood Elves just wandered through.  (This was also best as the Woodland Realm almost never had prisoners to jail).

So, the dwarves were trapped in their cells, waiting for Thorin to join them (hopefully with good news).  They’d tried breaking out of the cell in whatever way they could think.  From slamming against the bars with their shoulders, to kicking them with their legs and shaking them with their hands.  But still the cell bars held strong.  Bofur was the first to actually observe the elves, rather than sneer and ignore them like the others.  The others didn’t wish to make eye-contact or even look in their general direction.

Bofur watched, as many elves walked through speaking elvish and looking graceful.  Some elves were so graceful when they walked it looked almost as if they were floating across the floor, not even touching the ground.  He struggled to tell who was male and who was female, but the sounds of their voices definitely helped - even if he couldn’t understand their language.

Eventually he saw a beautiful elf with (Y/C) hair and (Y/C) eyes.  His?  Her? Dress was a beautiful mixture of pink and purple that fell past their ankles and hid their feet.  Thus, they appeared to be floating as they walked.  Bofur smiled, appreciating how beautiful the elves could truly be.  How graceful and--and she walked into a wall.  This got the dwarves quietly chuckling from they cells.

Even Dwalin was hiding his snicker.  They would laugh more openly, but they were in foul moods and didn’t want to anger the elves when the elves had an advantage against them.  The elf maiden didn’t seem to mind - hearing their chuckles with her good hearing - and laughed with them.  A shadow crossed the floor and Legolas landed with perfection as he came to check on his wife.  The dwarves’ faces immediately molded into scowls at the sight of the rude elf that found them and cast them into their cells.

They continued to watch as Legolas checked his wife’s face for cuts and smiled when she was cleared to be okay.  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and took her hand, walking her to the staircase to continue her on her path.  She was not halfway up the staircase when she tripped and fell.  Luckily, Legolas was used to this and simply caught her and gracefully carried her the rest of the way.  He set her back down on the marble floors, kissed the back of her hand and returned to his position up high, watching over the area.  She curtsied and although the dwarves could not hear - or understand it - she thanked him.  “Ni ‘lassui en, Legolas.”

An hour later, Thorin joined his company in the cells.  He simply explained how he had not taken any deal with King Thranduil and that all the Elves could...well...let’s not translate that now.  The dwarves were upset by this news, feeling like they’d be trapped forever.  But Thorin knew there was a Bilbo Baggins somewhere out there.  And he would help free them.  He was sure of it.  Bilbo was not so sure.  Every time he thought he had a clear path to descend to the cells, suddenly a bunch of elves walked by.  He was thankful the ring he found made him invisible.

Some were going to patrol outside, some were laughing and telling jokes in Elvish, some were carrying wine and food, or decorations and others were reading a lovely looking book as they walked by.  The thing is this: Bilbo didn’t have many openings to sneak past and not bump into someone.  So instead he decided to follow them for a brief moment and saw them setting up a sort of party.  With decorations and a clear view of the sky where Bilbo could see the tinges of orange and pink beginning to appear in the clouds.

There were tables lined with bottles of wine and kegs of wine and cups for the wine.  There were a few tables of food, but mostly it was wine.  With lots of seats, some elves already perched on the staircases and some elves sitting up high on ledges already getting drunk.  Many were singing and some were possibly telling poems?  Or stories?  Bilbo wasn’t quite sure but it was a merry gathering that was forming.

‘Well,’  Bilbo decided to himself, ‘Time to find those dwarves.’  And so he walked back the way he came, sneaking down corridors of marble and past beautiful pillars with beautiful, intricate carvings running down them.  Soon his eyes laid upon, a (Y/C) haired elf with a beautiful dress and stunning eyes.  She was reading a book as she walked absentmindedly.  He decided to follow her and see where he ended up.

They walked for almost half an hour when he heard the familiar, grumpy dwarves’ voices as they hushedly whispered to each other in Khuzdul.  ‘Finally,’ Bilbo thought excitedly, ‘I’ve found them!’  He waited behind the she-elf, watching where she was headed.  By the time he realized she was about to walk down a flight of stairs and possibly injure herself, a blond elf was by her side with an arm around her waist.  Legolas was so accustomed to stopping his wife from falling down stairs it was almost a daily thing to catch her and gently lead her away.

“A, Legolas.”  She smiled to her lover with such a soft gaze he felt sure to melt under it.  Although the dwarves did not know it, ‘A’ was Elvish for ‘Hi’.  However, they simply thought it was an exclamation like the English ‘Ah’ when one realizes they almost walked off the top step of a flight of stairs.

However, (Y/N) was so accident prone she was no longer surprised when someone stopped her from walking into a wall, or a door, or out a window and this case was no different.  Bruises and cuts from falling down stairs was common for our silly she-elf lady.  Legolas sighed fondly.  “Hiril vuin, please do fall down the stairs before a most wonderful celebration.”  ‘Hiril vuin’ was Elvish for ‘my lady’ and was a sweet and simple way for Legolas to remain caring, but serious, in front of the dwarvish prisoners.

Bofur spoke up with a chuckle from the cells below, “Is falling down the stairs a common occurrence?  I would love to see such a performance everyday!”  He joked.  The dwarves laughed in agreement except for Oin who could barely hear what Bofur said.

“What did he say?”  He asked Gloin who was in the cell beside him.  His question went unanswered as Gloin continued to loudly laugh.  Legolas glared down at the cells whilst (Y/N) simply laughed with the dwarves.  She had a wonderful sense of humour - she has two older and fun twin brothers after all - and she was also used to these jokes which made it even more fun in her opinion!

Once the laughter had settled down a bit (Y/N) chuckled out, “I knew I should’ve been the King’s jester!”  and the howls of laughter sprung back up again.  Their thunderous voices bounced of the walls and echoed through the building.  Even Legolas and Bilbo chuckled at (Y/N)’s joke.  As the dwarves continued to laugh, crack jokes and sometimes just rest in silence, Legolas decided to simply ignore them and inquire about his wife’s current book.  “Oh!  It’s a book of Elvish poems and short love stories.  I fell in love with it after reading the first couple of love poems.  It even has some poems specifically to be read just before you sleep.  Oh!  I’ll find one of my favourites for you!”

She began to carefully flip back through the previously read pages, keeping her bookmark on her current page as she did so.  Bilbo took this chance to quietly sneak past the couple and down the stairs to the cells in order to look for the keys.  Legolas smiled adoringly as his wife quietly muttered the poem titles until she found the one she was looking for.  Although the Elvish is truly beautiful and wonderful to read, here’s the English equivalent instead:

“ Your Divine Beauty,

The stars crown your head, As you rest peacefully in bed, And the moon bathes you in its’ light, Kissing you with all its’ might.

Such beauty even the sun bows down, So its’ colours may reflect onto your white gown. Pink, orange and gold, Dare not touch or enfold.

For they will not dare, To hide your beauty nor ensnare.”

Although Bilbo and the dwarves had no clue what she said as it was in Elvish, still they folded to the sound of her melodic voice when she read aloud her favourite poem.  Legolas gently kissed her forehead when she was finished and sighed wistfully.  “I adore that poem so much now.”  He smiled down as their foreheads rested together.

“I’m glad you liked it, dear.”  She grinned, returning his kiss with a giggle.  Only a moment had passed when they heard approaching footsteps.  Bilbo snuck back to a corner in case they should pass him and the dwarves returned to their original scowls as two Elven guards came to a stop in front of the couple.  The woman curtsied to the guards and they returned with a bow.

“We’re sorry to interrupt, but the celebrations are beginning.”  They explained, carefully watching Legolas’ eyes as he sighed.

“Very well.  Then I shall not keep you any longer, my dear.  Please, go enjoy yourself and do not wait up for me.  I will join you shortly after I have finished my patrol over the cells.”  Legolas kissed his wife’s hand with a tenderness and care you only hear and see in romance books.

“Thank-you, darling.  I shall join them, but I shall still wait for you.”  She grinned with a cheeky glint to her eyes.

“Why do I bother to tell you to not wait, you don’t listen anyway.”  He chuckled sweetly.  “Very well.  Now go, before my father is disappointed with both of us being absent.”

“Ah, yes, I should hurry then.  Take care, darling, and try not to roughen up the dwarves too much.”  She kissed him once more before leaving with the guards to the celebrations.  Legolas sighed wistfully once more and did not move until she was safe out of sight with the guards.  He trusted them to catch her if she should fall.

But even if she is injured, they have healers that are always pre-prepared for her anyway.  He turned back and before he could ascend back to his post, the dwarves spoke up.

“So she and you are...well...together, huh?”

“She’s my emotional support wife.”  Legolas grinned mischievously, knowing fully well she could still hear them with her excellent Elvish hearing.  A second later his ears heard her voice in the distance,

“I heard that!”  And he smiled hearing her voice once more.

“You’ll do well to not disrespect her whilst you’re here.”  Legolas stared the dwarves down as he finally returned to his post, just out of their line of sight above them.  The dwarves rolled their eyes and proceeded to taunt him with funny comments anyway.  All were harmless, but they were fishing for a reaction from Legolas so they did their best to make it sound almost like insults.  He didn’t care enough to hear though, he was ignoring them and mentally reciting his wife’s favourite poem so when she was having a bad sick day he’d know it off by heart.

[secretlovelygarden]

Azriel’s impact on Elain

From this:

“Can you truly fly?… Is it not frightening though? To fly so high?”

“Elain’s silence was… hollow. Empty. She did not look, or speak, or even flinch as we entered.”

“No one ever does. No one ever looked —not really. He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

“Elain had blushed about the impropriety of such things.”

To this:

“A seer. The Cauldron made you a seer.”

“Elain blinked and blinked, eyes clearing again.”

“As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another.”

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room.”

“I would like to build a garden. After all of this… I think the world needs more gardens.”

“Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..."

Elain’s impact on Azriel:

From this:

“Azriel has been preoccupied with the same female for the past five hundred years.”

“Mor opened her mouth, but Azriel laid a scarred hand atop hers. She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned —burned as he had been.”

“Az, to his credit, gave Mor a smile of thanks, a blush creeping over his cheeks, his hazel eyes fixed on her. I looked away at the heat, the yearning that filled them.”

To this:

“Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”

“His shadows skittered back at the sound. They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around.”

“His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck. He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.”

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --”

[menacingearthwork]

was tagged by @beatriceportinari 2 list my top 10 first watch movies of this year and since my brain is a hole it took a while to remember but here are my rankings from da "worst" to da BEST

10. cemetery man - when that bus of schoolkids careened off the cliff i thought i was going to shit myself in the theater with how hard i was laughing. otherwise just fun and campy

9. bronson - very winding refn. tom hardy is such a treat always. a fun creative venture, but unfortunately the back and forth bored me too much to enjoy the storyline as i probably should have. i would still recommend it for a nice evening watch tho

8. the devil's bath - interesting sleeper pick i stumbled upon at the theater, really loved the cyclical stories playing hand in hand with one another, especially in conjunction with the rendition of 'female madness'. beautifully filmed without being too heavy-handed

7. arrival - to tack onto the cyclical storytelling i loved the, no pun, loops this story wove within itself. villeneuve at some of his finest work, and tickled something fun within me as a language enjoyer TM. lost ranking for romance+family nonsense as a personal pick but i also saw dune pt 2 this year and enjoyed this so much more.

6. ed wood - if tim burton and johnny depp kept on this sort of path i would be more prone to enjoying anything either of them had done ever. probably my favorite collaboration between the two. johnny's ed charmed me to bits with his fun quirkiness and I LOOOOOOOOVED MARTIN LANDAU'S BELA LUGOSI SO MUCH!!!!!!!! great sets great acting loved every single character and their relationships. watched for halloweentime and may do so every year because i loved it so much

5. rosemary's baby - somehow this was the first year i watched this movie probably because i saw the last scene when i was 10 and it freaked me out so bad i had to wait 20 more years to watch it, which was a wise decision on my part because i appreciated the true horror of it all, which was the atmosphere. sinister, foreboding, eyes constantly on mia farrow but you could never really see them, but you just knew something was going on. and, of course, the s/a scene was so terrifying in its own right that i can still hear mia farrow's "this isn't a dream, this is really happening!" line in my head

4. trainspotting - i could talk pages about the scene with the baby passing away and everyone immediately shooting up in grief, or the suppository scene, or the withdrawal scene, and how hilariously tragic the entire story is, especially as someone who has enjoyed irvine welsh's writing since i was a teenager but IT'S SHITE BEING SCOTTISH, WE'RE THE LOWEST OF THE LOW, THE SCUM OF THE FUCKING EARTH, THE MOST WRETCHED, MISERABLE, SERVILE, PATHETIC TRASH THAT WAS SHAT INTO CIVILIZATION, SOME PEOPLE HATE THE ENGLISH, I DON'T! THEY'RE JUST WANKERS! WE ON THE OTHER HAND ARE COLONIZED BY WANKERS! CAN'T EVEN FIND A DECENT CULTURE TO BE COLONIZED BY! WE'RE RULED BY EFFETE ASSHOLES! laid into me, man

3. robocop - ROBOCOP SHOT THAT MAN IN THE DICK!!!!!!!! otherwise was just SO MUCH FUN, blood and spatter and the melding of man and machine, the loss of humanity and question of law and order, with INCREDIBLE filmmaking prowess by verhoeven as always. my stomach lurched the entire way that robocop became robocop, especially the new year's scene where everyone treated him as a prop despite him at his core being human. i expected to feel more miserable with this one but wound up having a GREAT time

2. clerks - shit on me all you like for taking so long to watch this movie in full but i watched it on physical media given to me from my dad and now i can't stop quoting it. hashtag me of all time. after all, i don't watch movies

1. anatomy of a fall - hands down my favorite film of the year. watched it on a whim and didn't feel like a second of the 3hr runtime was wasted, and barely even noticed that it was 3hrs in the first place. near perfect execution in all regards. minimal soundtrack cemented the story with proper gravitas, told a story of an inter-european immigrant family with mastery, never was overbearing for a second, gorgeous scenery, natural script. a heartbreaking mystery that never once jumped the gun or felt hamfisted or felt full of itself. it just really is such an incredible story let alone movie that i don't hesitate to say will find few rivals for the rest of the 2020s.

usernames with e, l, h, n, and y are tagged :P

[coralhoneyrose]

fun chrom and or robin headcanons? chrobin headcanons?

alternatively what are some widely accepted or constantly brought up things in the awakening fandom that you hate?

my fun headcanon is they try to both be objective and somewhat professional as leaders but when c&r are alone together they love to gossip. you know theyve seen some stuff

Oooh what a fun question! I’m sure as soon as I hit post I’ll remember a bunch more but here’s what I was able to come up with~

Robin: I actually like head-canoning Robin as having ADHD. I could ramble about that for ages tbh but I think they fit the “twice exceptional” profile really well and that a combination of being an anxious perfectionist and having an attention disorder would make a lot of sense given that we know Robin is both very confident in their tactics and intelligence but also prone to workaholic tendencies with pushing themselves to extremes to make sure they’ve thought of everything. I also headcanon Robin as being kind of a slob LOL like I think their room would always be a mess with things strewn everywhere but *they* know where everything is meant to be so don’t even think about moving anything, Frederick >:(

Also this may be obvious from my writing, but I like headcanoning Robin as having darker skin than in canon in large part to circumvent Awakening’s unfortunate tendency to only feature that trait for Plegians who are antagonists. OH! And I love the idea of Robin being touch-starved when the shepherds first find and adopt them too.

Chrom: I headcanon he has very pretty cursive handwriting that he was forced to learn by his tutors growing up; that he low-key kinda likes PDA; that he’s mindlessly touchy with Robin specifically, even before he realizes his feelings; that he has a praise kink; that he is a morning person; and that he’s not particularly religious, despite being….ya know, the exalt of a halidom.

Idk if it’s cheating to also list that I headcanon him as biromantic demisexual (given that I have a whole fic about that) but I’m restating it anyway because that one is very dear to me. Also! I did not come up with this one myself, but I saw a tweet from another Chrobin author once about how they hc that Chrom would abdicate the throne before he gets particularly old to help ensure that Lucina’s coronation is a happy and celebratory event, and I love that idea and thinks it suits both of them really well <3

I think the one you shared is cute and fitting for them too! Both of them take their jobs really seriously so I can absolutely see them making an effort to keep too many court politics out of their work but then debriefing about stuff and laughing at all the stuffy nobles together after to help maintain their sanity.

As for things brought up / widely accepted in the fandom that I dislike and / or strongly disagree with, the three that come most immediately to mind are:

- That Chrom and Robin have a dumb one / smart one dynamic. I think they’re both very competent leaders and that while Robin is clearly the smarter of the two, I’ve always interpreted Chrom as probably having above average intelligence and just being really blunt and kind of oblivious / not tactful in certain delicate social situations which….tbh I fully believe Robin can be guilty of that sort of thing as well LOL

- That the f!Chrobin supports are “objectively” some of the worst in the game”. I can definitely understand and sympathize with some of the complaints about them, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re my favorite supports in awakening full stop. And I do also think that a subset of the complaints leveled at them are wildly off base

- That male and female Robin have different personalities. I just do not think this is true. I think the differences we see in their supports are pretty much always a direct function of being treated differently by the other character on account of their gender and responding to those differing circumstances accordingly

I have started drafting and ultimately aborted so many posts making arguments for all these points but somewhere along the line I usually remind myself to take a deep breath and that people can enjoy these characters and ships however they want to. Ultimately if I don’t like something, it’s easy enough for me to tune it out and keep doing my own thing and I’ve found fandom has become a lot more pleasant that way LOL

Andddd I think that covers everything? Thanks so much for the ask—I had a lot of fun answering it as probably evidenced by how long this turned out to be asjfk

[ivystoryweaver]

The Only One

Episode 5

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Summary: Date number 2 brings you closer to Poe

Pairing: Poe Dameron x female original character. Fic is written in second person, but the female "you" has a name (It reads basically the same as any other xreader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: fluff, no warnings really, Elia is just too hard on herself, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on "The Only One"...

"I know you, Ells," he said softly, tenderly smiling as you actually looked up at him

"Give me a chance? I'm not so bad after date number four." He winked and you burst out laughing.

There was something so comforting about the way you were always so consistently...you.

Poe once again met you in the hangar for date number 2, smiling to himself as he approached you.

"Poe!" You excitedly called, bouncing on your toes as you tugged at your backpack straps. Twin buns, unlaced boots - same as always.

"Hey, you made it," Poe grinned, pausing before he gave into the urge to greet you with a hug or a kiss on the cheek. Still working on that personal space thing. "Perrha said you had to work late."

"Got done just in time," you confessed.

"Come on," he offered, extending his hand. He respected your boundaries, but if he wanted to date you for real, he had to know exactly where those boundaries were.

You chewed on your lip in concentration, a cute wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows. Slowly loosening your clutch on your backpack strap, you reached out to accept his hand.

His face glowed with warmth and adoration as he wrapped his fingers around yours. "This okay?"

"I think it feels safe right now," you honestly replied, and Poe thought it might be the best description he'd ever heard for holding someone's hand.

"I like when you do that," he playfully smirked over at you, leading you out of the hangar with his hand wrapped securely around yours.

"Do what?"

"Tell me the truth. No games. It's rare," he explained.

You felt him squeeze your joined hands and it made something inside you bloom to life. Poe Dameron wanted to hold your hand. Why, you would never know, but you held on for dear life, resting your cheek against his arm as you walked - the warmth of his skin seeping through his sleeve.

"I know I'm different," you slowly answered. "But you are too. When I'm with you, I feel like there's nothing wrong with me."

Poe stopped short, jarring you out of your semi snuggle. "Elia, there is nothing wrong with you."

Your gaze dropped to your boots as you shifted uncomfortably. "Don't stare at me," you mumbled.

"Sorry," he softly returned, reaching for your hand again. "Come on."

The two of you walked toward your destination in silence - the only change when Poe slid his fingers through yours.

"I can't help staring at you sometimes," he confessed, his thumb caressing yours gently. "Don't get too upset with me, okay?"

"I'm not upset," you defended, bristling as you were so prone to do.

"Be patient with me, Ells," he pleaded. "You're really pretty and it's hard for me to look away sometimes."

A tingling sensation rippled through your body at that confession. Your instinct was to deflect, deny and assume he was mocking you, but Poe had proven his sincerity enough that his actions were starting to override your brain's hard wiring.

You couldn't think of anything to say. Poe Dameron had rendered you speechless. What a gift.

There was also the the fact that he was simply mistaken. Maybe he liked your hair, or you face, for whatever reason. You felt certain you were average looking. But if he ever saw the rest of you, he would never say you were pretty ever again, because you weren't.

There was nothing wrong with not being human - plenty of Resistance fighters weren't. You weren't so shallow as to be solely wrapped up in looking a little different. No, it was a much deeper and darker history than that.

Your lineage was stained with darkness, oppression and aggression. And a source of power having everything to do with what you covered on your back. You simply could not allow yourself to follow in the footsteps of your ancestors. It's why you worked so hard to keep yourself closed off from the powerful energy flow and why you could never let your body full develop.

So you said nothing.

Poe would probably think you didn't like him back if you kept acting...well, like yourself. Lost in your head, and in self-loathing. Maybe you should try harder.

But this thing between you - could it ever go anywhere? Poe probably wanted a normal relationship. Someone he could gaze at - someone he could take to bed. You could never. It's not that you had never, but this was Poe. Not with him. So what was the point in trying?

Still...you weren't foolish enough to let someone like Poe slip away so easily.

"Here we are," he announced, seeming to have forgotten that you never responded to his compliment, even to contradict it.

"What's this?" You questioned, unable to discern anything about the type of establishment you'd wandered to. You'd walked here pretty quickly, so it was fairly close to base.

"This is just where I stashed some supplies," Poe confessed. It was some kind of storage shed. No wonder it looked so unremarkable. Pretty soon, his arms were full of supplies and the two of you started walking again.

"Didn't want to go too far tonight, since I have a solo mission in the morning," he explained. "I made us a picnic."

"How did you get all this food?" You asked Poe, once the two of you settled on a blanket in the safest part of the nearby jungle. "This is more than we usually eat in three days."

"I've been saving up," he shrugged. "Called in some favors. I thought a nice meal would feel good for a change. I think I got all the foods you like - the ones you're always eating."

Your heart burned with affection at the odd little gathering of foods your very picky tastebuds preferred, with the textures that didn't make you gag.

"I do love these, and I'm starving, thank you." Happy to stuff your face with your favorite foods, you reveled in the moments you didn't feel the need to speak. Of course this left you mind free to wander...and worry.

The blanket you shared with Poe was just to sit on, right? And nothing else. Even if you had a human body and had hopes to be with Poe in that way, the second date would still be too soon for you.

Probably best to start a conversation.

"Solo mission, huh?" You began. "What's that about?"

Poe swallowed his bite and slowly nodded. "It's, uh...actually, it's classified. I would tell you if I could."

"Oh." Something important then. "Is it dangerous? Why do you have to go alone?"

"Can't talk about it right now, but...maybe when I get back. I probably wasn't supposed to tell you there even was a mission, but..." He trailed off, reaching for his beverage.

"But what?"

Moonlight reflected in his bright, brown eyes as they found your gaze. "I didn't want you to worry."

A fizzy warmth stirred in the center of you. "I won't worry," you bluntly returned. "You're the best pilot in the Resistance. I've never seen anyone better on missions. Or in training. It should be you going."

The corners of Poe's mouth curled in amusement.

"I will miss you though," you sweetly added. "I hope you come back soon."

A satisfied smile warmed his handsome face. "I'll miss you too. We'll do this again when I get back...okay?" Dark eyebrows shot up hopefully.

"Okay," you agreed.

The rest of your date turned into more of a hangout. Poe tried to ask you a few questions about your past but you were pretty clear in letting him know you weren't going to talk about it. You asked him some more questions about his childhood on Yavin 4 and it brought you to the topic of his favorite little buddy - his orange and white droid BB-8.

"He's been on Castilon for months. I miss him like crazy."

"He must be special if you miss him so much," you commented.

"I think so. Can't wait for you to meet him. I'm picking him up on my way to my mission."

You adored watching Poe as he talked, especially about something important to him. His eyes lit up, his mouth looked so kissable and he always gestured animatedly with his hands.

If only you were normal, you might actually have a real chance with Poe. Maybe someday you could tell him the truth about yourself - your body, your species, your past...

Maybe when the war was over.

Poe walked you back to base, holding your hand. Even though you knew you couldn't be the kind of girlfriend he deserved, you wanted to tell him something before he left on his classified mission. A way for him to understand how important he was becoming to you.

"Thank you for tonight - for our picnic," you told him as you neared base. "I love being with you, Poe. I...I hope you come back soon, and you're safe out there. I'll miss you."

"I love being with you too," he sweetly replied, squeezing your fingers while reaching for your other hand. He gently caressed your fingers, gazing down into your eyes, really wishing he could give you an end-of-date kiss. Or at least a goodbye kiss.

He stared a little too long, however, and the two of you ended up sharing a nervous laugh. "Was this okay tonight? Holding your hands?"

"Yeah, it's okay."

"Good...good," he nodded, exhaling in a rush, his lips curling in a sexy smile. "Really wanna kiss you though." His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he shifted toward you smoothly.

"Oh," you swallowed, eyes wide and blinking. "Um, I - "

"Or maybe a hug? If that feels safer..." He was trying to offer you a less intimate alternative, but you physically withdrew, folding your arms over your chest. Being held by him was a bad idea. Not until you could explain your...back.

Chewing on your lip in a mild panic, you spontaneously leaned forward, spreading your palms over the solid warmth of his chest and pressing your mouth to his.

Stunned, Poe barely had time to register the feel of your sweet lips before you withdrew, rocking on your heels before yanking hard on your frayed backpack straps.

"Goodnight, Poe," you blurted, already turning to rush away. "Be safe."

Planting his boots firmly to keep from going after you, he tried to say goodbye, but he was Poe Dameron. He had to say something.

"Ells!" He called after you, "You kissed me."

"Bye, Poe!" You repeated, scurrying toward base.

Laughter bubbled up and erupted from his chest as he said goodbye back to you.

He let you go. For now.

next

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[sunshinekindof]

I trust you, silly

Timothee and I have been married for several months. Of course, I knew what I was getting into when I said yes to him. Crazy schedule, long breakups, his fame, sidelong glances in my direction. And also rumors. Of course, I knew that all this would happen, and I was completely ready for anything. To be completely honest, I was prone to overthinking, but I honestly tried to control myself. Sometimes it seemed to me that Timothee was going through just as much as I did. He knows that I love him, but, as he sometimes tells me, "I'm just afraid that I'm not worthy of you." To which I usually laugh at the stupidity of this thought. He is everything I wanted and more.

Timothee was filming a new movie in another state. He called me every time he had a free minute. I was happy to hear his voice, but I wanted him to take care of himself and get some sleep. Sometimes he may forget that he needs to do things like sleep and eat. To which he always replied that he was fine and asked how my day went.

Today is my day off, Timothee won't be back any time soon, and our apartment has long needed a thorough cleaning. It seems that I have found something to do with myself.

We didn't get to talk yesterday. In the morning I sent him a message wishing good morning and a good day, to which he has not yet answered. While I was having breakfast, I decided to scroll through the Twitter feed. When I was scrolling through the news, photos of Timothee with his co-star, female co-star began to appear to me. Kristen, if I'm not mistaken. For my taste, she stood too close to him. The photo was accompanied by the caption “Problems in Paradise?”. Then there was a photo in which Kristen put her hand on my husband's shoulder. Timothee was standing with his back to the camera in the photo, so I couldn't see his face. Fans have been waiting for the release of this movie. There were a lot of fanarts that showed Timothee and Kristen together. Like together. Then I saw a short video of Kristen putting her hand on Timothy's chest and laughing. There were more photos, but I refuse to look at them. Ok, that`s enough. Enough Twitter for today. I am not a masochist.

I have no doubts about Timothee, but nevertheless I felt my blood boil involuntarily. Kristen may be the star of this movie, but Timothee is mine. I could not resist and called him, but he did not answer. Okay, enough thinking. He will call back as soon as he can. As always.

Leaving my phone on the table, I turned on the music at full volume and went to clean up. Organizing things helps you relax. After cleaning, I went to the farmers' market. Our refrigerator was empty. While I was away, my phone died. After 4 hours (oops), I finally went home and almost dropped my grocery bags. Timothee was walking towards me, holding a telephone in his hands, and traces of panic on his face.

- How ..., - I began, but he did not let me finish and wrapped his arms tightly around me. Along with packages.

- Timothee! Packages…can't hold…” I started, feeling the groceries drop from my hands onto the floor. In response, he only pulled away from me for a moment, put away his purchases, and clung to me again.

“Hey baby…don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to have you here, but you weren’t supposed to be back for another month. Baby, are you okay?”

"I couldn't get through to you all day and I panicked," he muttered into my neck.

- Timothee...

I pulled back to look into his eyes and to my horror saw unshed tears there.

- Tim, what are you doing? I was just at the market and my phone died. I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry.

I pressed my lips to his. I wanted to stop the kiss, but he didn't let me do it, but only deepened it. Instinctively, I ran my fingers through his hair and moaned.

- Babe…

Why didn't you answer me?

- Did not answer? You didn't call me

- I did! Look! - he began to show me his phone

- Maybe a bad connection or something. And then my phone died. Look, - I smiled and showed him my phone

“I thought you left me,” he suddenly said and looked away from me.

- What? Timothee! Why did you think so?

- Have you seen the photo?

- You and Kristen? Yes, but...

- That's not what it looks like! Honestly! She just got too close... and I immediately said no... and that if this happens again, then I will leave the film...

- Timothee!" I interrupted.

- No, its true. So, and then I couldn’t contact you and I panicked and immediately came…

- Baby, you are so silly, - I laughed and this time I hugged myself tightly, - I told you a thousand times that I trust you.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.

- You didn`t! Oh baby, I can't believe you came all this way just because I didn't answer you for a couple of hours, - I smiled and kissed his nose

- Not a couple of hours! Almost 24 hours!

-Timothee … what am I gonna do with you?

- Never let me go. And love me,” he said embarrassedly.

"Always," I replied, and kissed him again.

[sluttyhollow]

“And I like my head slow, sloppy, disgusting, wet pussy in his face no cuffin, ooh he keep asking what are we, we nothing”

Warnings: oral sex (f recieving), toxic Toji & reader (kinda), female bodied reader with no pronouns, Toji being a bad dad if you squint but that’s nothing new, reader and Toji have unspecified age gap

Toji Fushiguro x BlackF! Reader

I was listening to Not My N*gga by KenTheMan and I started having thoughts about Toji. Yeah enjoy this brain rot y’all. I might do another part to this where Toji just sluts his pussy out idk 😭

Part 2

18+ No Minors

“Right fucking there oh my go-“ his mouth was a National fucking treasure. Expertly tonguing his so called affections into the depths of your folds. The wet muscle lulling out his mouth before flattening to drag the roughness across your clit. Repeating the motion over and over until he felt satisfied with the way your nails were sinking into his scalp, then moving to suck your slick from your hole. Tongue making its way in to fuck you with it that way.

The whole scene was debouched. Sweat coating your naked skin, eyes rolling back, forcing him to keep his assault going as you reverently shoved his face deeper into your folds. If you had known the man was as much of munch as he is, you would’ve been taken him up on his senseless begging to take you out.

Toji Fushiguro was your dilf neighbor who worked odd hours, stayed gone for days and weeks and continuously asked you to let him take you out when he saw you collecting your mail. He was 40 something, undoubtedly sexy as hell, but something about him was off. You didn’t know what his job was but you assumed he was dangerous, he looked it at least. That scar that sat across his lips, paired with the fact you’d only ever seen his 4 year old son once in the 6 months you’d lived there told you all you needed to know about him. Plus you were young, had your own shit, and had a number of people who’d pull up and give you what you wanted whenever you asked, truly pushin p so he was not a factor in your mind. But he looked happy when you finally let him take you out, like he really wanted you, poor baby he was. You’d run his pockets a little and then move on, he’d get the hint and leave you alone, Simple.

A fucking lie, he was all that was on your mind right now. The way he was eating your pussy just the way you liked was pushing you closer to the edge and quickly. Bucking your hips up to ride against the motions of his tongue you finally released with a cry, squirting across his face.

Dropping your hips you finally released his head letting him pull away from you. Looking up at him, face wet with your cum and a smile plastered on his face.

“How you feel about me now sweetheart, still think you can sing those shitty little songs I hear through my wall about being a “p bitch” or whatever. Quit playing with me and tell me that pussy mine”

A laugh bubbles out your mouth before you could catch it. “That tongue of yours is fucking amazing and I might be nice and let you taste me again but you’re still not finna cuff me Toji” moving your body to sit up so you can get dressed and leave his apartment you hear his laughter follow your words before his smile dropped

“The moment you let me get a taste of that pussy you became mine, that for the streets shit is done y/n, now bring me MY pussy so I can keep giving it what I know it likes” a hand wrapped itself around your ankle dragging you back prone before he attached himself back onto your his pussy causing you to arch up off the bed. Yeah, you may be out the game fr, especially if Toji had anything to say about it.

[businesstiramisu]

Worth the Candle is a webtoon now!!

I actually saw Alexander Wales' Discord announcement about this back in October, but my sister asked me about it yesterday, so I finally checked it out. There's three chapters so far, incidentally covering about the first three chapters of the webnovel. (Does this mean we can expect 254 Webtoon chapters?? Probably not, but lol)

Wales' discord announcement said he's not directly involved in production (by his own choice)`:

I'm there mostly as a resource. I expect adaptational changes, and so far have agreed with the streamlining and tweaking I've seen.

I don't know what he's seen, but I agree the tweaking and streamlining seen in the first three chapters seems well done! For example, this conversation (webtoon vs original prose:)

Joon's parents' jobs are interesting flavor, but completely irrelevant; the Athenaeum of Quills and Blood *will* be relevant later but it can be name-dropped when the story gets there. I do miss the "I remembered what it meant right after saying I didn't know it" -- that's a kind of nerdy too-in-his-own-head self-correction that Juniper is very prone to, and it's a trait that greatly endears him to me as a protagonist. The webtoon's internal monologue *can* be read that way but it can also be read as Juniper lying to the girl. But overall it's a really small thing, the scene reads fine.

There's also some innovation. I laughed at Juniper's "Ideas for what's going on" being converted to the visual metaphor of a dumptruck full of garbage. The original list is pretty funny too but this adds a certain flair appropriate for a visual medium:

However, some things are completely lost [note: these actually happened first but i wanted to talk about the panels in this order]

pretty standard "crush at first site" story beat, right?

here's the webnovel (screenshots below, or here's the same text in a pastebin if the screenshot is hard to read)

"Crush at first sight" is absolutely happening here, but there's also a whole lot more. Juniper is a hormonal teenage boy, but he's Aware of the Discourse about female characters and love interests, and the author of WTC is *even more* Aware Of the Discourse. So he's self-conscious about it -- again with that caught-up-in-his-head internal dialogue (which doesn't make his awkward gawking more palatable! Oh, Joon). There's also the suspicion and fear -- which is not just "oh she's Too Pretty" but "she's Too Pretty in a way designed specifically to appeal to me." He's was primed by the zombies and the frongles being drawn from his own tabletop DM ideas -- what else is in this world is drawn from his imagination? And why??

[Also, more basically, "she's so pretty it's scary" which, accurate -- "Cypress" is indeed scary! Beauty is one of many skills and talents she wields to terrifying effect. I don't think the webtoon has really conveyed how intimidating she is -- yet, at least.]

Maybe the squinty-eyed look in the last panel of my screenshots is supposed to convey some or all of this, but I don't know how a reader would intuit it.

These are central themes to the story as a whole and this character specifically. I'm sure they'll be established and explored later in the webtoon (well, probably sanded down the case of the Amaryllis, because ~gestures at the quote again~ and the Webtoon seems to be aiming for more anodyne characterization in general) but it's a shame they got left out of the first impressions.

[Also, I notice that "Cypress" in the comic panels doesn't have blood on her shirt and *does* have a scar on her face -- are these setting up adaptational difference? Plot divergences that are going to matter?? We shall have to wait and see.]

In conclusion, the webtoon seems very promising so far, though necessarily eliding a lot of the wordy details and earnest imperfection that I really appreciate in the webnovel. We shall see how it develops!!

===

Also I'm sorry but I *gotta* shoutout to Joon complaining that his knowledge stat should be higher b/c of his habit of binge-reading Wikipedia.

He's hilarious! I could read him all night (just did again, in fact)

If you also think that book!Juniper is hilarious, consider buying the kindle version of Worth the Candle, or DM-ing me for the epub

[devilsrecreation]

New TLG OC cuz apparently I don’t know when to quit

Makuu’s girlfriend/mate, Ucheshi (charm, humor)

She’s a sweet silly ray of sunshine whose sparring techniques are a bit…different from the other crocs, but they surprisingly work. She’s outgoing, extremely talkative (to the point where she doesn’t shut up easily), and prone to excitement. She’s also very affectionate with her loved ones and loves making others laugh. She prefers to settle things peacefully, but she won’t hesitate to get into a fight if it backfires.

You would think she wouldn’t be Makuu’s type and honestly, Makuu didn’t either. That was until she made him laugh. Then he started noticing how supportive and patient she was and found her…kinda cute. From then on, Makuu developed a soft spot for her and they formed a really wholesome relationship. It’s basically that of Roger and Jessica with the genders swapped cuz we need more silly ladies with absolute catches for a man lmao

-Her battle tactic is looking weak and acting like a damsel in distress, then defeating her opponent when their guard is down. She’s perfectly capable of defending herself

-She also just so happens to be Kiburi’s little sister so that’s fun

Could you imagine his reaction when he learns that Ucheshi and Makuu are dating?

“Course I’m gonna have a problem when MY RIVAL IS DATING MY LITTLE SISTER-”

-Speaking of which, Kiburi’s actions during “Let Sleeping Crocs Lie” hurt her immensely and caused a rift between them. He wasn’t the same big brother she knew and loved. He was completely different. Last time she ever saw him in the Pridelands was when he was heading to the Outlands with the others. They locked eyes for a moment, she turned away in shame, and that was that. They talked once during Season 2 in an effort to get Kiburi to change his ways, but he unfortunately was too far gone. This led to a fight (the argument kind) where they each said things they regret and haven’t spoken since.

-Having said that, Kiburi is still her brother and she loves him. He may want to hurt Makuu and take over the Pridelands, but she knows damn well he would never hurt her. While he does find her annoying, he’ll protect her with his life. They eventually start talking again and while it takes some time (and a little journey to Udugu), they decide to leave the past in the past and she forgives him

-Unlike Makuu and Kiburi, she has no problem with Hukumu and her float. In fact, they become pretty good friends! They’ll usually have a chat or take a little walk while the boys keep fighting lmao

-She’s a mentor figure to Chama, Mzaha, and Furaha. And by that, I mean a mentor of fun. She’s the kind of person (animal) who’s like “Are you doing that ridiculous dust joke….without me???”. They have so much respect for her hfhfgf

-She was the only croc willing to let Hodari into the float cuz she found him outright adorable. While the other females just rolled their eyes, Ucheshi was like 😃😃😃😃😃. When Hodari’s song was finished, she actually started thumping her tail (but stopped once she realized everyone else was laughing). Now that he’s an honorary croc, she treats him like her son. Loves the little guy to bits

And here’s a bonus quote since I couldn’t resist:

Makuu: I want my potential mate to be a brave, strong, intelligent, independent warrior

Ucheshi: *having a fun splashing match with Mzaha, Furaha, and Chama, laughing*

Makuu: ….That one. I want that one.

[clarepreed]

Where There's Smoke, Pt. 2

Story Summary and Content - 6,121 words. Mitchell succumbs to a heart attack amidst a house fire. Heart attack, asthma, smoke inhalation, on-site resuscitation, Stryker LUCAS 3. Male and female victims.

--

Part One

Larissa

“Alright,” she said, pushing back her chair. Mark and Samuel both waggled their eyebrows at her, but she shook her head. “You can all keep playing, but that was my last round. I need to get some sleep or l will be useless tomorrow. We’ve been playing this forever.”

Samuel groaned.

“Don’t start in on her, Sam,” Angie said, wagging her finger at him. “The rest of us don’t have Peter Pan Syndrome.”

“I am a grown ass man with a marriage and a Fortune 500 company,” Samuel said, sticking his tongue out at Angie.

“Thanks for mentioning me first, babe,” Mark said, grinning.

“Tomorrow’s gonna come early,” Booker interjected, winking at Larissa.

Larissa sniffed, wondering why the air seemed a lot smokier than it had just moments before. She didn’t think the breeze had changed direction. The smoke smell burned down her throat and into her lungs, making her chest tight.

“Larissa?” Angie asked, sounding uncertain. Booker tipped his head back, raising his eyebrows.

Larissa blinked, and laughed. The laugh turned into a short series of coughs. “Ugh. I need to go to bed. I’m zoning out.”

“Does one of us need to haul you up the stairs?” Samuel asked, winking at her. 

Larissa rolled her eyes. “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”

Mark looked a little more serious. Sometimes, he seemed to worry almost as much as Mitchell. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just going to get ready for bed and try not to wake Mitchell.”

“Alright,” he said. “Sleep well!”

Larissa limped toward the house, clearing her throat and thinking she should probably use her inhaler before she tried to sleep. Mitchell certainly wouldn’t get any rest if he woke up and heard her wheezing.

To Larissa’s surprise, when she entered the house, she felt like she’d walked into the fire pit. It was hot, smelling strongly of smoke. In fact…

Larissa started coughing, her throat and lungs spasming as she drew in the smoky air. She took several steps back toward the door, and flipped on a light.

The first thing she saw was smoke billowing from downstairs, drawing up one staircase and wrapping around and up to the next as though the stairs were a chimney. Even on the middle floor, the air was thick with smoke. The far end of the open floor plan was completely blocked from view.

While she stood there, coughing and staring in shock, she heard a thud from upstairs.

“Mitchell!” she wheezed.

She didn’t think to exit the house and call for help. Instead, she forced herself toward the stairs, hauling herself up. By the time she reached the top, her head spun, and she coughed so hard she thought she might vomit.

Larissa dropped to her hands and knees on the landing, wincing in pain as her sore knee dug into the hardwood floor. Her head ached, and she hadn’t been able to draw a proper breath since she’d come inside.

Worse still was the pace of her heart, racing dangerously in her chest.

Have to check on Mitchell…

She dragged herself down the hall and into their room. It took her thirty seconds to find him. His eyes were open, flicking across her face as she leaned over him. He clutched at his chest, his red eyes going unfocused in the seconds since she’d found him.

Larissa grabbed his shoulders, wheezing, trying to shift his weight.

Mitchell went limp and his eyes emptied of life, staring blankly into the smoke. Larissa pressed her fingers into his neck, searching for a pulse.

Searching.

No, no, no… 

Larissa felt a hard kick to her chest, and tried to suck in a breath. Her airway spasmed, and her mind whirled, her vision blurring.

What…

Mitchell…

Another kick to the chest, and she fell across Mitchell’s prone body, her lips numb.

Can’t breathe… ICD can’t fix… that…

Mark

“One more round?” he asked, looking around the table. “We all have to get up early tomorrow.”

“I’ll be feeling like an old man tomorrow if we stay up much later,” Booker said.

“Maybe we should just call it a night?” Angie asked. “Larissa had the right idea, I think.”

Mark looked over at his husband. Samuel had become distracted, a slight frown on his face. 

“What is it?” Mark asked, reaching over to rub his arm. “You good?”

“It’s… very smoky by the house,” Samuel said. The group turned to look, peering into the dark. 

Mark squinted. “What is—”

Booker gasped, pushing his chair back from the table. “Shit! The house is on fire!”

Booker was right. Mark could see an orange glow from the basement windows, and a heavy cloud of smoke rising around the house.

“I’m calling 9-1-1,” Angie said, jumping to her feet, her phone already to her ear. “Maybe they can still save it—”

“MITCHELL!” Samuel shouted, his chair overturning as he scrambled to his feet. “Fuck—Mitchell and Larissa are in there!”

Then he took off toward the far end of the house. Mark chased after him, his heart sinking as they came around the back.

He hadn’t been able to tell when they were by the fire pit, but as they got closer, he could see black smoke boiling up the side of the house, obscuring the exterior lighting and the stars above.

“The French doors!” he shouted, coughing as he got a face full of smoke. “Sam, we can get into their room that way!”

The small group rounded the end of the house, taking the steps to the deck two at a time. The light on the side of the house flickered, but Mark could see smoke roiling against the inside of the glass doors. 

Samuel jerked on the handle, cursed. Before Mark could react, his husband kicked the center of the doors hard, right where the latch and locking mechanism were installed.

After the fourth kick, the wood splintered and one of the panes cracked, and Samuel jerked the door open. Smoke boiled out and into their faces. Mark pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, took a deep breath, and ran into the smoke.

His eyes started streaming. He staggered about briefly, unable to spot them in the chaos. A few long seconds passed in terror and silence.

The silence confused him. Why can’t I hear the smoke detectors?

Mark found them on the other side of the bed. The lamplight was dimmed by the smoke, but he spotted them curled up together on the floor. Mitchell lay on his back, eyes open, unmoving. Larissa sprawled across him, limp and unresponsive when Mark shook her shoulder. He reached over and patted Mitchell hard on the cheek, but neither stirred.

Mark scooped Larissa up in his arms and pivoted, his lungs burning, his shoulder and Larissa’s legs clipping Samuel on their way out of the door. Larissa was limp, her head tipped back over his arm. 

Angie met him on the deck, hovering as he coughed and spat. “Do you need help on the steps? 9-1-1 says fire and medical will be here soon!”

“I’ve got her, she—” Larissa’s torso gave a strange little jerk. He glanced down at her, still moving toward the steps. “Larissa?”

She didn’t respond to his voice. Mark cleared his throat and made his way down the steps. He could hear Booker and Samuel behind him, coughing and hacking as they hauled Mitchell out of the burning house.

Mark carried Larissa several feet past the end of the steps and then laid her carefully in the grass, cradling her head. The night was dark, but he could just see her wan face in the moonlight. He leaned over her, his ear close to her lips. His own lungs were burning, eyes weeping.

Samuel and Booker spilled down the stairs, quickly lowering Mitchell to the ground a few feet away from Larissa.

“How are they?” Angie called. “The operator is asking if they’re breathing!”

Mark didn’t feel any puff of breath from Larissa’s lips. He adjusted the angle of her airway, waiting a few more seconds.

“She’s not breathing!” Mark called back. He had a brief moment where he considered starting chest compressions, but he decided to give her breaths first. He pinched Larissa’s nose closed. “I think her ICD fired a couple of minutes ago!”

As Mark sealed his mouth over Larissa’s, he heard Samuel say: “Oh, God! He doesn’t have a pulse! Booker, can you start CPR? I’m going to get the AED!”

Mark forced a breath into Larissa, noting as he did so that there was a fair amount of resistance, her chest slow to rise. He broke the seal and shouted: “Samuel, be careful!”

“—going into the house to get the AED,” Angie said into the phone, sounding agitated. “I know that’s not safe, but neither one of them is breathing, and—”

Mark gave Larissa another breath, then traced the line of her ribcage through her shirt, searching for his landmark. As he forced his hands down between her full breasts, he looked up to see Booker performing compressions on Mitchell.

The muscles in Booker’s arms bulged as he thrust his hands into Mitchell’s sternum, the force tipping Mitchell’s head to the side. Moonlight glinted off his staring eyes. His shoulders and hands twitched, his feet rocking, stomach distending with each forceful chest compression.

“…ten! One, two, three…” The same effects were happening to Larissa’s lifeless form underneath him. He could hear a light wheezing sound from between Larissa’s lips, watched her stomach bulging through her shirt.

“The operator says to just do compressions,” Angie said. “Not to worry about rescue breathing!”

Mark counted quietly, aware of Booker doing the same a few feet away. Larissa and Mitchell remained unresponsive, their skin ashen even in the moonlight.

Mark’s own heart was pounding from exertion and fear. He was afraid for Mitchell and Larissa, possibly dead from smoke inhalation. And he was worried about Samuel, who was apparently planning to run back into the burning house to retrieve the AED.

“…three, four, five…”

“…will be coming back with an AED,” he heard Angie say. “But we only have one… Yes, one of them has an ICD… put the AED on the one who doesn’t?”

Fuck. Mark briefly closed his eyes. He hoped Larissa’s ICD was working, and would help her. He imagined trying to explain that to Mitchell if they got him back and not her.

“…nine, ten! One, two, three…” 

“Shit, I think I just broke his rib, Angie!” Booker called out. “Fuck!”

“It happens!” Mark called out. “Don’t stop! One, two, three…”

He heard Samuel coughing before he saw him, and then Samuel slid in between Mitchell and Larissa, a red case in hand. “Got it!” he croaked.

Booker’s shoulders bobbed relentlessly as Samuel unzipped the case.

The AED powered on automatically. Mark tried to keep his focus on Larissa, but he couldn’t help but watch as Samuel cut Mitchell’s shirt up the center, exposing his chest to the night air. Then he found the kit’s razor and shaved a patch of hair from Mitchell’s right pectoral, just below his clavicle.

“Apply pads!” the device called out.

“I’m going to put you on speaker,” Angie said. “I’m going to spell my brother!”

She laid the phone in the grass, and Mark heard the operator say: “EMS is two minutes out!”

“Let me take over for a couple of minutes,” Angie said, kneeling at Larissa’s other side, hands clasping together.

Mark lifted his hands and leaned back, watching as his sister’s hands fell in the same spot and she rocked her shoulders over her wrists. Then she started pumping the lifeless chest, making Larissa’s breasts wobble beneath her clothing. “One, two, three….”

Mark stood, wanting to be able to monitor them both. Samuel smoothed the second pad on Mitchell’s chest, and then the device called out: “Analyzing heart rhythm! Do not touch patient!”

Booker and Samuel both leaned back from Mitchell, hands raised.

“…three, four—What the hell was that?!” Angie shouted. Mark looked down; his sister was still performing forceful chest compressions on Larissa. “Was that her ICD? I gather it can’t hurt us or I would be on my ass!”

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient! Shock advised. Charging!”

“Did her chest jerk?” Mark asked.

“If the patient with the implanted cardioverter-defibrillator is still unresponsive and not breathing,” the operator’s tinny voice said, “continue compression-only CPR.”

“Shock ready. Do not touch patient. Do not touch patient. Shock administered in three, two, one.” Mark darted his eyes back over to Mitchell, watching as his friend’s torso flinched. “Shock delivered. Continue CPR for two minutes!”

“I’ll go another round,” Booker said, forcing his hands down into Mitchell’s sternum. “You’re still coughing up a lung! Come on, Mitchell! One, two, three…”

Mark suddenly heard a gasp from below him, and a series of weak coughs. Angie leaned back and Mark dropped back to his knees by Larissa, reaching for her as she let out a sputtering wheeze.

“Larissa! Hey, take another breath for us, okay? Open your eyes!” Mark tipped her head back, holding her airway open and watching with a mixture of relief and concern as her throat worked and her mouth gaped.

“Can she breathe?” Angie asked.

Mark watched Larissa’s weakening struggle for a few seconds before he leaned over her, pinched her nose, and gave her a series of five rescue breaths. He watched her chest rise and fall, and then released her nose, pulling back several inches.

Larissa’s chest rose again of her own accord.

She was breathing, though the breaths were shallow and noisy, with a pronounced wheeze on the exhale. Her eyes remained closed. 

Mark patted her cheek. “Come on, Larissa, you’re doing a great job. I need you to open your eyes, though.”

His own eyes drifted a few feet away. Mitchell’s eyes were still open, empty as they gazed toward Mark and Larissa. His chin bobbed as the force of Booker’s compressions rocked his body.

“I hear the sirens!” Angie shouted, scrambling to her feet. “I’m going down to the drive so they can find us!”

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient!” Booker and Samuel raised their hands. “Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient!”

“Huh…” Larissa made a small noise and Mark looked down in time to see her reddened eyes open. She gazed up at him blankly, slow-witted and disoriented.

“Shock advised! Charging! Do not touch patient!”

Larissa frowned. She was barely breathing, and he could see fear rising through the confusion in her eyes.

Mark grasped her shoulder. “Help is coming. You’re going to be okay!”

“Shock ready. Do not touch patient. Do not touch patient. Shock administered in three, two, one.” 

Larissa wheezed, and then her head tipped to the side, her face turning toward Mitchell as his torso spasmed.

“Shock delivered. Continue CPR for two minutes.” Samuel, his back to Mark, started compressions. Mitchell was still staring lifeless back at them.

Larissa made a strangled sound, her back bowing, hands tearing at the grass. Mark took her face in his hands, tried to pull her gaze up and away from Mitchell’s dead eyes. He loved them both, but he couldn’t do anything for Mitchell. Mitchell would want him to take care of Larissa.

“Larissa. Look at me. Hey, I need you to focus on breathing…” Mark felt her shudder, saw tears stream from her eyes. “I know. I know. I’m so sorry! Samuel and Booker are helping Mitchell, okay? And the ambulance is almost here—”

Larissa’s chest jerked again, and she was quiet and still for several seconds, an odd look passing over her face. To Mark’s relief, she gulped in another breath. 

The night filled with lights and sirens. Mark willed them to hurry, keenly aware both of his husband pumping Mitchell’s chest and of his sister-in-law on the ground, barely moving air.

Then Angie was back, and they were surrounded by medics and firefighters.

“You’re going to be okay!” Mark told Larissa as a medic shuffled him to the side.

Someone set up a construction light, and medics took over for Booker and Samuel. Samuel found Mark immediately, grasping his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Everything moved faster and faster.

Mark saw a tall paramedic with burly arms take over chest compressions on Mitchell. His compressions were even more forceful than Booker’s had been, forcing Mitchell’s stomach out and popping his shoulders. 

Larissa’s team of medics were undressing and bagging her. He didn’t know if she’d stopped breathing again, or if they were trying to supplement her efforts.

“They’re going to intubate him,” Samuel said, his voice hoarse. The sound of a screaming monitor suddenly filled the air, and Mark heard one of the medics call for epinephrine.

“…losing her airway! I want you to—”

Mark didn’t know where to look. The medic with burly arms was still forcing his hands hard into Mitchell’s sternum. He could see the other medics moving around him, administering medication and sliding a laryngoscope blade down his throat.

On the other side, a crew swarmed around Larissa, watching the monitor, administering meds. Mark saw a medic kneeled by her head, carefully open her airway, and snap open a laryngoscope.

“…losing her pressure, now, need a bolus of—”

“He’s in v-fib, charging to three-sixty!”

“I’m in!”

“She’s bradycardic, uncertain what kind of device she has. Administering atropine —”

“Pause compressions, everyone clear! Administering shock!” Mitchell’s body jerked, and an athletic female paramedic leaned in, taking over compressions. The alarm had changed, and Mark heard someone say: “He’s asystolic. Administering another—”

“Sir?” A woman with a clipboard stepped in front of him. “Next of kin?”

“I’m Mitchell’s brother,” Samuel said. “Larissa is my sister-in-law.”

“We’re going to transport both of them soon.”

“To West Allen General?” Samuel sounded hoarse and wheezy, and he coughed after he spoke.

“Yes, sir. What’s your name?”

“Samuel. That’s my brother and his wife. Are… are they continuing efforts, or—” Samuel clung to Mark’s hands, squeezing them hard.

“Yes, sir. I do have to tell you that they are both very sick—”

“I understand that!” Samuel snapped, and then Mark felt him sway.

“Woah, Sam, sit down!” Mark urged his husband to sit down on the grass, bracing him with his arms. In front of them, the medics lowered a gurney next to Larissa and prepared to move her onto it. Mitchell continued to receive forceful compressions and breaths from the bag.

The woman with the clipboard kneeled in front of them, setting the clipboard in the grass and reaching out to grasp Samuel’s arm, pressing her fingers into the inside of his wrist.

“Take a few slow breaths for me, Samuel,” she said. “I know you’re under a lot of stress.”

Larissa’s crew of medics lifted her together, moving her from the ground to the gurney. Then they raised the gurney, locking it into place.

Samuel took a deep breath and started coughing, prompting the medic to reach for the stethoscope around her neck. She slipped the buds into her ears. 

“I’m just going to take a quick listen.” She moved to his side and slipped the bell underneath Samuel’s shirt, pressing it to his back and instructing him to take a series of deep breaths.

“Still asystolic, administering vasopressin. Kelly, switch with Tina!”

“Gary!” The medic checking out Samuel called out over her shoulder. “Take this one with you. His name is Samuel. Next of kin to our other patients. Wheezing, possible inflammation; he needs O2 and a breathing treatment. Sir, I’m sorry to make you walk, but—”

“Mark…” Samuel started coughing and shook his head. The paramedic was helping him to his feet, and Samuel looked distressed.

“I’ll stay with Mitchell, Sam,” Mark said, reaching over to press his hand to Samuel’s chest. “Take care of yourself. And Larissa.”

“Booker and I will head on to the hospital,” Angie said. “Do you have your keys?”

“I do—Samuel!” The medics were already leading him after Larissa’s gurney, so Mark jogged a few steps closer and gave him a quick kiss. “I love you!”

“Love you…”

And then Mark was alone with his dying friend and the yard full of strangers trying to revive him. Samuel would be okay, but it was strange to know he was headed to the hospital in an ambulance while Mark stayed behind. And he had no idea what was happening with Larissa, now.

Mark crouched on the periphery, elbows on his knees and his hands pressed to his mouth. While he’d been with Samuel, the medics had unpacked a mechanical chest compression device. Mark knew what it was from an older news clip, but he’d never seen one used before.

Oh, Mitchell…

The medics paused compressions long enough to lift Mitchell’s torso off the ground, one of them holding his head upright as another slid a small backboard beneath him. Then they lowered him back to the ground, the backboard pushing his chest an inch higher. An arched piece clipped into the backboard. 

The medic holding an ambu bag fastened it to the end of Mitchell’s endotracheal tube while the burly medic lowered what looked like a plunger to Mitchell’s sternum. Mark heard the whooshing sound of the bag.

The burly medic pushed a button, and the machine kicked on, loud as it slammed the cup into Mitchell’s chest, his sternum sinking in response. 

Nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit…

Mark shuddered, feeling like someone had just doused him with ice water. The machine was efficient, and with the monitor screaming an asystole alarm, they evidently didn’t need to pause it. The sound of the device ricocheted off the side of the house.

“Sir?”

Mitchell glanced up, saw the same medic with the clipboard. She reached out with her gloved hand and helped him to his feet, holding onto his arm until she was sure he’d remain upright.

“We’re going to transport him now. I understand that the rest of your family has already left?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The medics lowered the gurney beside Mitchell, and he watched while they clipped him into a harness attached to the CPR device. Two of the medics raised Mitchell’s arms, strapping his wrists to the motor.

Nn-hit, nn-hit, nn-hit…

“Administering one milligram epinephrine, and then let’s get him on the gurney. Good ventilation rate, Kelly…”

“Sir?”

Mark blinked, focusing on the woman. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, sir. I understand. What I wanted to tell you is that I called in and got approval for you to ride in the front of the ambulance.”

Mark felt relieved; he hadn’t been looking forward to driving himself behind the ambulance, left in silence with his thoughts. “Thank you, I… thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. I’m going to help them load Mitchell on the gurney, and then you can follow me to the ambulance.”

She jogged over to Mitchell, and he watched as the medics lifted him about a foot in the air, device and all, and slid him onto the gurney. The medic named Kelly continued squeezing the bag as they strapped him in, and of course the machine continued its regular thumping compressions into his best friend’s bruised chest.

Mark followed the gurney through the grass and down to the drive. He’d barely noticed the fire engines this entire time, but now he found himself splashing through puddles of water and listening to someone discuss the structural integrity of the house. 

He tuned them out, following the woman to the side of the ambulance. 

“Go ahead and get buckled in,” she said. “They’re loading him in the back but they’ll do a pulse and rhythm check before we start moving, in case he needs another shock. We cannot use the defibrillator while we’re moving.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, unsure what else to say. He climbed into the ambulance, fastening the belt as she closed the door for him.

After about thirty seconds, he fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Angie: Riding in the front of Mitchell’s ambulance. About to leave. Not looking good.

Then he texted Samuel: See you soon, love. Leaving the house now.

Mark did hear the sound of the compression device briefly stop, but before long it had resumed. He heard some radio chatter, but he was too keyed up to try to make out what was being said. The woman with the clipboard opened the driver’s side of the ambulance and climbed in.

“We’ll be there in four minutes,” she said.

The trip was fast and uneventful, and Mark watched as the medic backed them into the ambulance bay. He waited until they came to a complete stop before he unbuckled and hopped out, watching as a team of people in scrubs ran out to meet the paramedics.

To his surprise, they didn’t immediately wheel Mitchell’s gurney out of the back of the ambulance. He heard talking, and then realized the sound of the automated compression device had stopped.

Mark walked forward to the end of the ambulance, far enough that he could look back and see what was going on.

“Clear!” he heard a medic call out, and Mitchell’s body flinched. A second passed, and one of the medics reseated the plunger before pressing a button to resume automated compressions. 

“Administer another round of epinephrine, we have two minutes to get him inside before we shock again!”

They lowered the gurney from the ambulance and started running. Mark got a solid look at his friend as the gurney passed him: Mitchell was mostly naked, the color of sour milk. His abdomen rippled with the force of the mechanical compressions, the device swaying above him as it pounded his bruised sternum. They’d secured Mitchell’s endotracheal tube with a plastic tube holder, the tube itself protruding between his teeth. His eyes were still partially open, glazed over and staring at nothing as one of the medics bagged him.

Then they were gone, leaving Mark behind with the nurse charged with dealing with him.

Larissa, two days later

Larissa drifted reluctantly to the surface. She knew she was sedated; nothing else explained that sleepy calm that held her down despite her distant, logical brain telling her that Hey, something’s wrong…

That same logical thinking informed her that she was in a hospital, on a ventilator.

She wasn’t in any pain, not physically, at least. 

Something’s wrong.

Someone’s missing.

How would I know that? she thought. I have no idea who’s here.

Someone was holding her hand.

Mitchell?

“Your parents are on a plane right now.”

Not Mitchell.

Mark.

Where’s Mitchell? An inexplicable wave of sadness rolled over her.

“She’s crying,” Mark said. “Is she in pain?”

“That’s probably the sedative,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.

“Have you decided if she needs surgery?”

Surgery?

“We will have to replace her device. The model that was installed is supposed to provide cardioversion, defibrillation, and pacing. The on-site information and the data from the device itself tells us it worked properly until the pacemaker function was required. The cardiologist determined that it behaved inappropriately during her bradycardic episode. At this point, it’s safer to replace it than make adjustments. The current plan is to use the same model.”

Why is Mark having this conversation?

Where’s Mitchell?

“Larissa?” Mark asked, squeezing her hand. “She’s still crying. When is the surgery?”

Larissa drifted, missing the answer.

Mitchell, days later

“Mitchell.”

His name was like a light switch coming on in the darkness.

“Mitchell, I know you’re in there.”

Accurate, but…

“You aren’t sedated anymore, so wake your ass up.”

Samuel. Mitchell sighed internally. Only Samuel would talk to me like that on my death bed, if that’s what this is.

“Hey, buddy, come on.”

Mitchell’s body was slowly coming back to him. His toes, his hands, one of which was being held in a vice grip. His face, where a nasal cannula fed him oxygen.

Samuel sighed and squeezed his hand.

“I miss you. We all miss you.”

Alright. What actually happened? I should start there.

 “What’s new since last night?” Samuel sounded resigned now, like he was just talking and not expecting a response. “Well. The cafeteria had quiche.”

Hey…

Samuel? Where’s Larissa?

He felt uneasy. 

Why am I here, and why isn’t Larissa?

“It was okay, the quiche.”

Samuel, I don’t give a shit about what you had for breakfast.

His thighs and shoulders woke up. He felt stiff, even without moving, and wondered how long he’d been in the hospital.

“Wish I knew how to read these machines,” Samuel said. “That one looks spiky, but there aren’t any alarms going off and no one is running in here, so I guess it’s okay… You look alright, anyway. And you’re breathing.”

Samuel’s hand clenched hard on Mitchell’s, making the bones shift and sending pain up his arm. Mitchell drew a sharp breath, which hurt almost as much as Samuel’s grip on his hand.

“Mitchell? Mitchell! Can you hear me? Or…” Samuel’s grip on his hand relaxed. “Was I hurting you? I’m sorry, buddy.”

That’s better, but why does my chest hurt?

Did I have a heart attack?

WHERE IS LARISSA?

“Hey, I’m sorry, but if anything will wake you up it’ll be this. About Larissa…”

Mitchell felt his heart rate pick up.

“She’s okay, don’t go having another heart attack, now.���

Samuel!

Wait… Another? Shit. I did have a heart attack.

“That wasn’t funny. Please, wake up and tell me off…”

Samuel, I’m going to wake up and punch you in the nose if you don’t—

“So, Larissa’s having her ICD replaced. I guess that extra part? The pacemaker part? It didn’t work the way it was supposed to, so they’re replacing it now. She’s going to be okay, but I thought you’d want to know.”

Larissa’s in surgery?

“It would be really good if we could tell her you’re awake when she comes off the anesthesia. She’s been sedated most of the time you’ve been out, so I don’t really know what she knows. They wanted to give her lungs a chance to rest after all that smoke. With her asthma, of course. Yours are getting better faster, which is why you’re off the ventilator.”

God damnit, now I’m just confused. What smoke? I thought I had a heart attack. How’d we get smoke in our lungs?

“That shit was no joke. I’m still having coughing fits if I try to take the stairs. Mark told me I’m forbidden from using the stairs for a while…”

Did everyone breathe in smoke? What…

He suddenly had a memory of himself, winded and exhausted, climbing the stairs in the vacation house. The interior smelled strongly of smoke, and he’d been worried about Larissa. And his left jaw had hurt.

Well, that should have been a hint, dumbass.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!

Mitchell squeezed Samuel’s hand. Or tried to. His fingers twitched. It was enough.

“Mitchell? Buddy? Come on, keep it up. Open your eyes.”

Mitchell tried again, and this time his hand squeezed his brother’s fingers hard.

“Mitchell?”

He peeled his eyelids open, squinting as harsh white light stabbed him in the eyes. “Ugh…”

“Mitchell? Oh, Christ, buddy. Oh, hey…”

Mitchell blinked until his brother’s pale, blotchy face swam into focus. “Samuel…” He could barely speak; his voice was faint and cracked with each syllable.

“That’s me,” Samuel said, and then his face crumpled and he covered it with his shaking hand.

“Tell me,” Mitchell whispered.

Mitchell, three days later

“She’s still coming, right?” He tried not to sound anxious; Samuel and Mark both looked like they might pass out if he so much as thought about worrying about something.

“Her dad’s wheeling her down here any minute now,” Mark said. “The doctor was just waiting on you to be released to cardiac step down. Technically, you were sicker, so that’s why she had to come to you.”

“She knows I’m okay?” Mitchell glanced at his heart monitor, unable to hide the uptick in beats. Fortunately, neither Mark nor Samuel thought to look. He’d already asked this question multiple times a day for each day that he hadn’t gotten to see her.

“I don’t think she’s going to believe it until she sees you,” Samuel admitted. “But it’s okay, Mitchell. Don’t worry.”

“Here she comes,” Mark said from the doorway. “I see them now. Mrs. Colton just waved at me from down the hall, though it looks like she’s not coming down here. Mr. Colton’s steering her chair.”

Mitchell pushed himself off the pillow, adjusted his nasal cannula, and reached up to smooth his hair. His IV line was in the way, and he swatted at it in irritation.

“You’re making the bedhead worse, buddy,” Samuel said, reaching over to pat the back of Mitchell’s hair flat. “She won’t care about your hair. It’s cute that you’re primping, though…”

Mitchell flipped him off, knowing Samuel would find that comforting.

He barely got his hand down before Mark stepped out of the way to admit Larissa and her father.

Mitchell relaxed as soon as he laid eyes on her, even though she looked rough enough to concern him.

She looked like she’d lost weight over the past week; her cheeks were gaunt and her skin sallow. She wore a nasal cannula like his own, and her hair was in a long, fuzzy braid over her shoulder. He could see a bandage peeking out from under the neckline of her gown.

She was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and she burst into tears as soon as their eyes met. Mitchell felt his own eyes water in response, and would have climbed out of bed if Samuel hadn’t put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Larissa, honey,” her father said, as he wheeled her over to the bed, her shoulders shaking and her breath coming short. “Take a deep breath.”

“Baby,” Mitchell said, leaning over to clasp her hands as she stretched hers toward him. “Shhh, everything’s okay.”

She drew a shuddering breath, coughed, and whispered: “I love you…”

“I love you, too, Larissa. Fuck, it’s so good to see you!” He felt a broad smile spread across his cheeks.

“I’m s-sorry!” she blurted, her tears renewing.

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He glanced up at Samuel and Mark, puzzled, then over at Larissa’s father. “What…?”

“I st-stressed you… out… And then I should have gone for… help… inst-stead of t-trying myself… Oh, Mitchell, you d-died…” She shuddered, coughing again and bending over as though in physical pain. Her father gripped her shoulder, making an alarmed sound. “It’s… my… fault!”

“No!” Mitchell exclaimed. He could see her distress, wished he could relieve it. “No, Larissa! It was a fire, baby. The smoke detectors were broken and no one replaced the batteries. If anything, the staff…”

“You…. were so st-stressed!”

“Larissa, honey, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” Larissa’s father rubbed her shoulder. “I should have brought your mother in here…”

Mitchell had never seen her like this. All of the times she’d been sick or frightened, and this was the first time she’d come completely undone.

“I need to get down there or get her up here, sir,” Mitchell said, looking her father in the eye.

Mr. Colton nodded. “I’ll help her up there. I can tell your brother wants you to stay in bed and I agree. No offense, but you still look like you took a long walk in the afterlife.”

Samuel snorted, and Mr. Colton ignored him, continuing: “She’s got plenty of line as long as we don’t kink it. You scoot thataway a bit, and Mark, if you’ll help me get her up there…”

In less than five minutes, Larissa laid next to him, trying to calm herself as she cuddled against his side. Mitchell had his arms around her, and he risked giving her a quick kiss before he settled for pressing his lips into her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered. He felt her trembling cease.

“I love you, baby. None of this was your fault. It’s not mine, either. We’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath. “I think I’ve gotten a little codependent, right? That’s not your fault. And not yours to fix. Please, please don’t blame yourself.”

She sighed, relaxing in his arms. His heart rate slowed, and he ran his fingers down her cheek and over her jaw, letting his fingertips rest on her carotid. Her heartbeat tapped reassuringly against his fingers.

“Mitchell?” she whispered. 

“Yes, baby?”

“Let’s not do that again.”

Mitchell laughed, heard the others chuckle. He stroked her cheek, relieved to hear her sounding like herself.

“I agree wholeheartedly.”

The next Larissa and Mitchell Story is Heart-to-Heart.

[minato-division03]

Night had long since settled on the division of Minato. It was also a certain Queen's birthday. Even if she didn't like to receive gifts, her majesty would be getting a bit of a surprise soon enough. 

Said birthday celebrant was currently chasing a criminal for her current case. Oh, how she enjoyed it when her prey ran away from her, made the hunt all the more thrilling. So when she saw the criminal round the corner into an alleyway, Queen Card smiled. Attempting to lose her? How foolish of them to even try to attempt. 

However, just as the criminal ran into the alleyway, he screamed. Turning into the alleyway herself, Queen Card saw the reason why he had screamed. 

The criminal was on the floor and knocked unconscious. Standing over his prone form was a female. Immediately, Queen Card recognized her as the criminal "Cinder".

"Hello, Your Majesty." Cinder pulled off her mask, revealing her face. "I'm not going to pretend to think you don't know who I am under my mask."

Cinder's gold eyes stared blankly at Queen Card as if assessing her. "Besides, you won't tell anyone who I am." 

Pulling something out of her jacket, Cinder placed it on top of the unconscious criminal. Stepping over his prone form, she walked over to the entrance of the alley. 

"Consider this my birthday gift to you, my lady." Cinder spoke as she passed by Queen Card. "A gift from a devil." A dark laugh escaped from Cinder's mouth as she placed her mask back on as she exited the alleyway disappearing into the night. 

Turning back to the criminal, Queen Card walked over and plucked the gift from where it laced on the prone man.

Inside the gift were two items. The first was a set of hair pins in the shape of a sword with a little red gem hanging from the both of them. The second item was a crystal vial with golden embellishments and red gems. It was filled with a liquid but with what Queen Card wasn't sure at the moment. Seeing a note as well, she plucked it up and began to read. 

Happy Birthday, Your Majesty. I do hope you enjoy your gifts. The hair pins I personally crafted myself and they're sharp enough to stab a man while at the same time not cutting through your hair. The vial is filled with something that will loosen the tongue, so to speak. Anyone who has even one drop won't stop speaking. I can only imagine what secrets that would be revealed. So enjoy. 

Cinder 

Queen Card stared blankly at the items in her hands.

Beautiful, they were. And so intricately crafted that it was hard to believe they were done by hand.

Her ears perked as she listened to the sound of “Cinder’s” footsteps becoming more faint.

The Queen slightly jerked her head as she quickly found that her scent was equally growing more and more faint.

However, it would seem that she wasn’t so far away that she was completely gone from the scene.

Her mulberry lips curled into a malicious grin.

A low chuckle escaped from her.

Which then grew into a loud fit of hysterical laughter.

She sighed as her laughter died down and she stomped her foot on the fallen criminal’s back, digging her sharp heel into his flesh.

“A fascinating one, is she not? Stunning gifts or not, that girl sure is a catch…”

Akari Himura, my dear girl…

Such is why you’d make everything come to fruition, little one.

I’ll be counting on it.

Thanks for the gift!

[nkatr84]

Barbie (2023)

As I’m writing this, I just saw the Barbie movie. Directed by Greta Gerwig, I knew this movie was going to have a feminist edge because of who directed it. And with each interview and press tour stop I got more and more excited for the movie. (The fashion! Ahh!) And then people were starting to say they sobbed and laughed so hard. I was pumped. I dressed in pink (after a futile effort to sew a dress for the movie, couldn’t get it right). I was ready.

So imagine my confusion when I didn’t laugh and sob so hard. And I’m prone to getting teary eyed at movies. I teared up at the last scene of Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. Like it wasn’t not funny. The Narrator calling out casting Margot Robbie as a Barbie saying she’s ugly was my favorite joke. Ken was the most adorable himbo ever. Weird Barbie is my spirit animal. Yet I didn’t get that emotional. The movie definitely made me think. But I’m trying to figure out why I didn’t get emotional.

It’s definitely not because of the message. Barbie being introduced to feminism as a coming of age story and concluding that to just exist as a human is enough. That you don’t have to be perfect or extraordinary to justify your existence. That’s a great message that I really relate with.

Of course with every movie about feminism people are going to point out the hypocrisy of corporate feminism and how Mattel especially is guilty of this since Barbie’s beginning. That it’s okay to buy this piece of plastic and all her friends and accessories because she’s a feminist icon! She teaches girls they can do anything! They just have to buy stuff to do it!

I watched a video essay that fairly pointed out that Mattel is aware of the poor working conditions of their factories overseas. Mostly filled with female workers. And they typically only give like less than 1% of their profits to enrich the lives of girls. But what I find interesting is I think Mattel has gaslit themselves into thinking that if they throw a little money at the problem, it’ll eventually go away.

And the Barbie movie addresses this! Not only do they allow Greta Gerwig to make fun of their corporation, (including their founder) the Barbies in Barbieland genuinely believe they saved our world and that our lives are just as great as theirs in the beginning. And after returning to Barbieland, Stereotypical Barbie (as she’s called) gets really frustrated and just throws a tantrum falling into depression and resolving to wait until someone else fixes the problem.

Of course the Men Children of the world have complained that the movie is anti-Men with Ken’s story arc which sees him become the antagonist and bring Patriarchy into Barbieland. But it’s only pointing out that the patriarchy hurts men too. Because every girl remembers when boys stopped being nice and started acting like jerks because society tells them that this is how men act. And the Kens in the movie very much act like little boys. Which is why I didn’t mind that Barbie apologized to Ken for hurting him when he did so much more to hurt her. Because at the end of the movie Barbie is growing up but Ken is just beginning his journey. When he grows as a person and figures out who he is, he probably will apologize for hurting Barbie.

Some people complain that the message is too on the nose but only scratches the surface of feminism. But this movie is about Barbie learning about feminism and how it affects her as she grows as a person. That’s intentional. The message has to be spelled out because this is a new concept for Barbie and for some people (young girls and men) watching the movie. Feminism isn’t black and white like the young daughter Sasha thinks it is in the movie. Mostly because of the influence of capitalism as previously discussed. So this movie has to serve as an introduction to feminism while not getting into all the nuances. And it’s so ironic that a movie with a monologue about how hard it is to be a woman because we’re expected to be everything is being criticized for not being feminist enough while being too feminist?

So, clearly I loved the ideas this movie has. Yet I didn’t get emotional. There are moments that should have got me. Barbie people watching and calling an old woman beautiful. Barbie meeting the ghost of her creator Ruth Handler. (BTW, I was shocked Mattel let them mention Handler’s tax evasion issues not once but twice!) Her creator telling her that she can’t give her permission to become human, she can only warn her what comes with it. The big speech Gloria gives. I resonated with them. I loved these scenes. But they didn’t heal my inner child like it did for others. But why?

Was it because I wasn’t that into Barbie as a kid? I was to a point because I played with Barbies. I remember playing with Barbies I saw in the movie. I watched the Barbie birthday party VHS over and over. I just didn’t have every single one.

Was it because I went with my parents who was just kinda neutral on the movie? Maybe. I would have thought my mom would say something about the mother daughter line. Or my Dad would comment about being a man raising girls. Instead they just thought it was okay.

I guess if anything I feel like Barbie does at the end of the movie. She doesn’t know what to feel either. And the movie says that is okay. That you can take time to figure it out. And that’s Kenough for me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a fanfic about Ken finding out he likes likes Weird Barbie. Because yes I totally ship them dammit…