#not me on my minor character bullshit yet again

[turtlesocksv2]

i kind of fell off Love Sea for a few weeks so i'm only watching episode 6 right now, but halfway through i have to say that while I love everyone in this bar my favorite character has to be Connor, Sir Not Appearing In This Film.

What the fuck is his deal, he's such a weirdo. buys his pet writer friend an All Inclusive Beach Vacation that he forces him to go in which includes a Hot Beach Guy to take care of him.

and THEN, as if that wasn't enough, it turns out he ALSO had a sugarbaby that he married, and is the jealous type, and likes to stir shit. This man is a fucking menace all from over the phone. Certified Weirdo Behavior.

i am assuming that Connor and Khom are from their own MAME novel,please tell me if it's one that's already been adapted into a show because i am regrettably a Connor Stan now.

[hippiegoth97]

Where Is My Mind?: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

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Description: It's your two-year anniversary with Eddie, and you both spend the evening exchanging 'gifts'...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, female reader, fingering, oral sex, squirting, consecutive orgasms, embarrassment, crying, overstimulation

Word Count: 4.8k

divider by @firefly-graphics

Where Is My Mind?

"Oh, God, Eddie!" You cry out as an overwhelming orgasm rocks through you. Your hands are tangled in Eddie's hair as he's been going down on you for the last hour or so. You’ve already cum three times, but he refuses to let up. You're soaked in sweat, your body sparking as he keeps licking and sucking on you to build you up again. "Baby, haven't you had enough? Your tongue must be getting tired." You whine, feeling your insides tighten in preparation for yet another orgasm.

He stops for a second to answer you. "Not at all angel, you taste so good. I could do this all night, and I love hearing you scream my name." He immediately dives back in, sticking his tongue inside your soaked cunt. His cock strains against his jeans, but he manages to get a little friction from kneeling against the side of his bed as he works on you.

Earlier tonight, the two of you had been celebrating your two-year anniversary. Eddie made spaghetti for dinner, and he gave you a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers. He also made you a mixtape, one he said was perfect for eating you out. Eager to test it, he popped the tape into the portable stereo and pounced on you. You hadn't even had the chance to give Eddie his gift, he was too preoccupied stripping you of your clothes and kissing every inch of flesh on your body.

Eddie has managed to keep all of his clothes on, he knows he'll get what he desires from you soon enough. But he wants to show you just how much he loves you. You're his whole world, a queen ruling over his cynical heart. Until he met you, he'd never truly believed in love or romance before. He thought those things were just make-believe bullshit made up by The Man to force people into model nuclear families. But he swears the moment he laid eyes on you, everything changed for him.

Funnily enough, you'd met him in a land of make-believe, so to speak. A Renaissance Faire in Indianapolis, to be exact. You'd gone with some friends, the lot of you were highly obsessed with medieval times and the mythology surrounding it. Eddie went by himself, unable to convince anyone to go along with him. He figured this was the only way to experience anything resembling Lord of The Rings and D&D in real life. Neither of you had high expectations, you assumed it would be pretty cheesy or mostly meant for little kids.

Once you'd arrived however, what you saw before you blew your minds. The entrance to the Faire was a giant castle, with a moat and a drawbridge. Everyone was dressed up, and all the employees were deep within their characters. It was a fantasy nerd's paradise, you thought you'd died and gone to heaven. And you hadn't even stepped foot inside the fairgrounds yet. But once you paid the admission and walked through the gates, your brain exploded all over again.

There were stalls of handmade jewelry, wands, swords, leather-bound journals, costumes, tiaras, fairy wings, the list went on endlessly. A field was blocked off for the knights to joust on massive horses, and rows of games lined the other side of the grounds. There were fortune tellers, face painters, people dressed as fairies and elves and royalty. A regal food court boasted giant turkey legs, popcorn, many sweets and treats, and more than enough booze to knock you on your ass. It was all so much to take in, but in an odd way it felt like you'd been waiting to find a place like this your entire life.

You and your friends explored every inch of the Faire, unable to resist buying the cute trinkets from the little shops. You watched the noble knights joust for the honor of marrying the fine princess, the winner giving her a big kiss for everyone to see. It was surprisingly romantic, sending your heart aflutter. You've always loved mushy things like that, waiting for your own knight in shining armor to save you from your boring life.

After a while, your stomach started growling. Your friends wanted to keep playing the carnival games, one of which was throwing tomatoes at a jester's face as he insulted you. You told them you'd come right back, heading to the other side of the Faire to try one of those famous turkey legs. It's at this point that Eddie spotted you from afar, though you took no notice of him. Your stomach lead you blindly to the smell of roasting meat, blocking out everything else happening around you.

Eddie caught a glimpse of you as he was walking the other way to check out the games, stopping dead in his tracks. He saw you were dressed in a long, red chemise, which left your shoulders bare. A black, corseted overdress sat atop the chemise, pushing your tits up for the perfect amount of cleavage. Your hair was tied in braids, which were wrapped immaculately around your head. Some loose strands of hair framed your face, and he was instantly enchanted. He decided to follow you, to perhaps buy you an ale or something. He hadn't expected to really interact with anyone outside of the employees at the Faire, but you seemed special.

You sidled up to the stand selling the turkey legs, ordering one for yourself. You'd contemplated buying for your friends too, but the legs were probably too big to carry so many at that great of a distance. You paid for your food, and made your way to the busty woman selling beer. You were just about to order when you heard a voice speak to you. "May I be so bold as to buy a fair maiden some ale?" You turned to see where the voice came from, stunned to find a very handsome man standing before you. He was tall, slender, with long, curly hair and a devilish smile on his face. He was wearing a red, billowy shirt that exposed some of his chest, and tight, black leather pants that tied with laces in the front. Matching leather boots adorned his feet, and a rather large sword sat sheathed at his hip. His hand rested over the handle of the sword, which made you take notice of the chunky rings on his fingers. He was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and he was talking to you.

You smiled at him, blushing at his deep brown eyes boring into you. "Why, thank you, kind sir. I'd be honored to indulge in a libation with you." You said, giggling at how silly you sounded with a terrible accent. He chuckled at you, reaching out for your hand. You gave it to him, blushing even harder when he planted a kiss to the back of it. He led you wordlessly to the line for drinks, ordering for you when it was finally your turn again. Once he paid, he found a nice quiet spot for you to talk. The two of you sat on a bench, knees touching as you positioned yourselves beside each other. You'd forgotten all about your turkey leg at this point, but you didn't really care to remember it when you were in the company of this mysterious man.

"So, what's your name, my lady?" He was still playing along, though you weren't sure how long the act could be kept up.

"Y/N. And yours?" You said coyly, sipping from your metal mug.

"Eddie, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. What brings you to the Faire?" He chugged some of his own drink, belching loudly which made you laugh. "Pardon me." He said sheepishly, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"I'm here with some friends. We've always liked medieval stuff, so we figured this would be a fun time." You couldn't keep speaking in Olde English, it was giving you a headache to think of the correct phrasing. Eddie took notice, relaxing his shoulders as it seemed he was also struggling to keep up. "What about you, Eddie? Are you here with anyone?" You asked, worried that maybe he had a girlfriend or something. A man as handsome as he was, he had to be taken, right?

"Nope, I'm here all on my lonesome. Well, until I saw you, the most gorgeous young woman I've ever seen." He put a hand on your knee suggestively, which made you tense up. You were struck by his words, no man had called you something so flattering before. Your eyes met his again, and you couldn't resist licking your lips. He continued speaking, much lower in volume. "And I also quite enjoy 'medieval stuff' as you called it, though I think you already figured that out." You set down your beer, and he put his aside as well. He brushed one of the stray strands of hair behind your ear, smoothly making a move to cup your cheek afterwards. "May I kiss you, princess?" He asked softly, his breath shaking with nerves. You'd barely spoken to each other, and yet there you were, centimeters away from your lips meeting.

"Yes, kind sir. You may." You replied, too caught up in anticipation to laugh. He closed the gap between you, gently pressing his mouth to yours. He tasted like beer, and tobacco. You were instantly hooked, pulling on his shirt collar to bring him closer to you. You both moaned down each other's throats, enamored by how thrilling it was to kiss someone you'd just met. You began to feel quite warm, tempted to straddle his lap right there for anyone to see.

A little bit later, the jester from earlier brought everyone's attention to you. He ran up to your bench, standing behind you as you kissed. "Well, it seems we doth have some rather rambunctious lovers in our midst! Perhaps we shall quell their burning lust, lest they shed their clothes for all eyes to see!" The jester jumped in the air, ringing a loud bell which hurt your ears. You broke apart, blushing madly at being called out. Passersby stopped to see this display, eager to watch your public humiliation. "Ah, and you dare to waste such fine ale? In favor of lashing tongues at one another? For shame!" He shouted, and the crowd mimicked his final words.

"FOR SHAME!" The bystanders were all laughing at you, though it was all in good fun. The jester picked up your mugs, holding them over your heads. You looked to Eddie, unsure of what to do. All he could do was stare back, blushing just as hard as you were while he shrugged his shoulders.

"FOR SHAME!" The jester laughed maniacally, dumping the remains of your drinks onto your heads. You shrieked as the cold beer soaked through your clothes and hair. You stood up, swatting at the jester in an attempt to hit him. He quickly dodged your blow, tutting at you. Eddie reached out to reel you in, but you took no notice. "Oh! I see you have quite the fire inside you, young maiden! Methinks one ought to quench thine whorish flames!" You felt another cold splash of liquid rain down onto you, much larger than the last. Eddie gasped, horrified that these people would go so far to humiliate you. You turned back around to see a burly man holding a large wooden bucket, which you guessed previously held the water that was poured onto your head. You glared at the jester again, unamused at getting soaked like that. "Oh, sweet lady. I beg thee to calm thyself. 'Tis all in good 'jest'!" He laughed again, dancing a jig before he went on his merry way. The onlookers also left to go about their business, the little show was over. Your friends caught the end of it, watching as you struggled to stand upright, the ground beneath you melting into sloppy mud.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Eddie asked quietly, reaching for your arm. You flinched at first, still shaken from being made a fool by the fool. You just nodded, trying not to cry. You knew it was just a joke, and you had made the mistake of making out in public when the performers loved any opportunity to make a silly interaction. Eddie pulled you close, innocently holding your waist to calm you. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault." He sounded sad, guilty for causing this whole ordeal.

"It's alright, I should've seen that coming. I'd heard the workers can be quite mischievous." You wiped your face with your hands, and your group came up to ask what happened. They were also very intrigued to find out who the handsome man next to you was. You explained it all, introducing them to Eddie. They eyed him up and down, making various approving noises or remarks in the most unsubtle way. You tried to apologize to Eddie for their rudeness, but he thought nothing of it, in fact he found it quite flattering. He walked with you and your friends to the exit, considering you being drenched made it quite uncomfortable to stay at the Faire.

You'd coincidentally parked your car right next to his van, and he clumsily dug around inside his vehicle to find a scrap of paper to write down his phone number for you. Eddie kissed you again before you parted ways, his wet hair rubbed against your cheeks as he slipped the paper into your hands. The feeling of his lips on yours stole the air from your lungs, but a warning honk from your friends signaled it was time to let him go. You held that little scrap of paper tightly the whole way home, eagerly dialing him later that evening. And the rest was history, from that moment on, you and Eddie had been inseparable.

Returning to the present, Eddie's tongue is furiously flicking against your clit to drive you over the edge for the fourth time this evening. An endless flow of moans falls from your lips, and Eddie drinks it all in. He loves the sounds you make, they're so vulgar and beautiful at the same time. He inserts two fingers into your soaking pussy, taking his mouth away to have a small break.

Eddie's eyes scan over your glistening body, watching you squirm and ball up the sheets with your hands. Your tits bounce as every touch he gives you makes your body jolt. Tears stream down your cheeks, your mouth fixed agape. "You're so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. So perfectly fucked for me. Do you want me to make you cum again?" He purrs at you, pumping his fingers inside you teasingly. His pace is excruciatingly slow, it brings you right to the edge without letting you fall off.

"Yes, please! I'm very close, Eds. Make me cum, I can't take the teasing." You're so needy for him, your tone making his cock even harder as you speak. He picks up speed, watching your head dig further into the pillow. Your back arches off the bed, and your pussy flutters around his fingers wildly. You're so, so close, and you want him to see you lose control. "Just like that, baby. Fuck, you make me feel so good." He adores when you praise him, it always casts his self-doubt about his performance aside.

"I'm happy to please you, sweetheart. Be a good girl and make a mess on my fingers." He coos at you, watching every micro-expression that swipes across your face. He moves his digits even faster inside you, using his thumb to rub vicious circles on your clit.

"Eddie!" You scream as another explosion of bliss engulfs you. Your legs shake violently, arousal pooling into Eddie's hand. Your insides are on fire, your abdomen sore from your muscles flexing involuntarily with every orgasm. He stills his fingers, letting your high fade away before slowly pulling them out. He brings them to his lips, hungrily sucking your juices from them. He moans at the taste, sucking down every last drop of you as his eyes flutter closed.

"Mmm, so fuckin' good, baby." Eddie observes you again, admiring how spent you look. You're panting, your face staring at the ceiling. Your hair clings to your sweat-soaked face, and your whole body glows with lust. Tremors rock through you randomly, making you whimper as they shock your clit. Eddie’s really done a number on you. You're sure if he dared to simply blow air against your pussy, you'd lose it all over again. He crawls over to you on the bed, laying next to you carefully. He turns your face to look at him, smiling lovingly at you. "Did you enjoy yourself, angel?" He asks.

"Y-yes, Eds." You stutter your words, shivering slightly as your sweat turns cold. He pulls you close, quickly warming you back up in his gentle arms. He kisses you tenderly, and you can't help melting into putty. "Do you want your present now, baby?" You ask quietly, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Sure, sweetheart. Stay here though, I'll grab it." He lets you go, stepping off the bed to grab the small box you put on his dresser as he ambushed you earlier. He gets back into bed, bringing you back into his embrace. You quickly snuggle him again, eager for his body heat to radiate into you. Eddie opens the box, finding a beautiful ring inside. He removes it from the box, inspecting it closely. It's chunky and silver like the ones he has already, but in the middle is a large, blood-red stone in the shape of a heart. The band itself is an intricate weaved pattern, and there's an engraving on the underside of the stone. It reads: 'For Eddie, My Heroic Knight' in an elegant script. He's speechless, he never expected you to get him something so nice.

"Do you like it, darling?" You ask, playfully stroking his chest as you watch his awestruck face. It's amusing that you seem to have caught him off guard, which is not an easy feat. After a moment of admiring the ring, Eddie slips it on one of the free fingers on his right hand.

"I love it, angel. It's the best gift anyone's ever given me." His eyes meet yours, his hand cupping your cheek. Your lips touch again, but this time you climb on top of him as you kiss. You straddle him, his hands gripping your ass roughly. Your mouth leaves Eddie's, migrating to his jaw and neck. He moans as you suck dark hickeys onto his flesh, marking him as much as you can. Your cunt rubs against Eddie's hard cock over his jeans, and you're eager to get him out of his clothes. You sit up, tugging his shirt up his chest. He helps you out, quickly discarding it to the floor.

"You're so handsome, baby." You tell him as you stare at his beautiful chest. You lean down to kiss his tattoos, nipping his skin playfully. Eddie groans, fixated on every touch you give him. Your mouth meets every inch of him you can reach, slowly traveling down to the small trail of hair above his jeans. You lift your head, smirking at him as you unbuckle his belt. He grins back, resting his head on his hands to observe your actions. You unzip his fly and yank his pants down his legs, tossing them aside. You glance down at his boxers, a tent formed in the thin fabric. Licking your lips, you shed Eddie of his final layer of clothing, watching his dick stand at attention. You kneel between his legs, leaning down you lick a long stripe up his length.

"Fuck." Eddie sighs, wanting to shove himself down your throat so badly. But he lets you take your time, not breaking eye contact as you do so. You teasingly swirl your tongue around the head, swallowing the precum that's gathered on it. He moans, an almost tortured look on his face. "Baby, please don't tease me." He begs, needy for your hot, wet mouth. You happily sink your lips down onto his cock, letting him hit the back of your throat. More noises spill from Eddie's lips as you work him, deepthroating him expertly. He loves when you give him head, there's nobody else on this earth that does it like you.

"Mmm." You moan on his length, increasing your speed. Sure, you mainly wanted to send vibrations through Eddie to drive him mad, but you also really enjoy sucking him off. Watching him whine and moan and praise you, it gets you unbelievably hot and bothered. You massage his balls gently in your hand, feeling them tighten as Eddie's high draws closer.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You're such a good little slut for me. Can you bring your pussy over here while you do that, though?" He asks, insatiable lust tinging his voice. You roll your eyes goofily, of course he wants to eat you out again. You already know it won't take long for him to make you cum, you're still so riled up from before. You continue blowing him, carefully maneuvering yourself to put your cunt in his face. He notices the arousal dripping from you, groaning at the site. "You love having my dick in your mouth, don't you, baby?" He says rhetorically, he already knows the answer.

"Mmhmm." You reply anyway, humming on him again. But it quickly morphs into a moan as Eddie's tongue begins toying around with your clit. He stops for a moment, biting your ass cheek to get your attention. You look back at him best you can, letting his dick slip out of your mouth. "Yes, my love?" You ask, quite used to this form of communication with him.

"Slow down on me a little, angel. I want you to focus on enjoying yourself." He strokes your thighs sensually, his tongue playing at the edge of his mouth mischievously. Eddie's always been so giving in bed, even when he's obviously desperate to have some pleasure of his own. You nod at him as you bite your lip, before turning away to take him back in your mouth. You slowly bob up and down, your tongue swirling around his length languidly. "That's it, keep that pace, Y/N." He groans again, trying to hold back his impulse to buck his hips into you. Eddie savors the feeling for a second, calming himself. You can feel his breath stuttering as it fans over your pussy, mentally smirking at just how close he is.

You want his mouth back on you, though he seems to be a little distracted. You lean your behind backwards to him, tempting his tongue to see just how sweet you taste. He chuckles at your wanting, before giving you what you need. Eddie sucks your clit back into his mouth, focusing his moans onto your core. The vibrations are nearly enough to make you lose it, you practically scream on his cock. You want to go faster, make him cum down your throat right now. But he asked you to go slowly, and you'll do anything to make him happy. It takes everything in you to maintain your pace, due to Eddie's moves making your head spin. You're sweating all over again, and it feels like your brain is melting.

Eddie relentlessly licks and sucks on your pussy, drinking up any arousal that drips from it. There's a nonstop cycle of moaning from the two of you, sending tremors through your flesh where you need it the most. You instinctively push yourself closer to his face, and he takes this as his cue to shove his tongue inside your needy hole. Your fifth orgasm takes you over, your walls clenching his tongue. Juices run out of you, spilling down Eddie's chin and onto his chest. He holds you steady as your legs threaten to give out, they tremble violently as pure bliss cascades through you. Your release brings Eddie to the end as well, his cum shooting in thick ropes down your throat. You swallow every last bit, your head falling onto his hip once he's finished.

But Eddie doesn't stop using his mouth on you, building you up yet again like his life depends on it. "Fuck, Eddie. You're gonna make me cum again." You cry out, tears stinging your eyes. Your high doesn't end, only dulls as he tries to give you another. His hands are hooked around your hips, holding you firmly in place. He's like a goddamn machine, whose only purpose is to get you off. "Oh, god!" You scream, your nails digging into Eddie's thighs as you cum on his face, even harder than all the previous times tonight. He's getting absolutely soaked by you, but he still doesn't want to stop. You hear your arousal leaking onto him, almost worried he's going to drown. But he keeps going, not letting you have a second to breathe.

You're panting wildly, constant tears staining your cheeks as his fucks you with his mouth. He keeps moaning against you, trying to make your head blow into smithereens. You've almost drawn blood as you continue to cling to him, making ungodly sounds as you're on the precipice of yet another fucking orgasm. His lips leave you for just a second. "Come on, angel. Just one more for me, be a good girl." He's breathing so hard, it's like he ran a marathon. Though when you think about it, he kind of has in a way. He adds his fingers to the mix, hammering them into you while licking your clit again.

"Eddie!" You scream, loud enough that you suspect the whole trailer park can hear you. Yet again, Eddie has managed to make you cum harder than you ever have before. It's like you're splitting in half, blinding white heat engulfing you in thick flames. An obscene amount of juices gush from you, more than you thought humanly possible. It all splashes onto Eddie, soaking his face, his hair, his chest, and the bed beneath you. You collapse, laying over Eddie's body. All you can see is stars, and your legs won't stop convulsing. The oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, you've forgotten how to breathe. Once it comes back to you, your chest heaves harshly as you gulp in air. You sob uncontrollably, unable to move.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks, watching you lay helplessly on top of him. He notices you crying, quickly slipping out from under you to rush to your side. He helps you sit up, taking a spot next to you. He's shiny with sweat and your cum, holding your head close to his chest. "Shhh, it's okay, angel. Just relax and breathe, okay?" He coos at you, stroking your damp hair comfortingly. Eddie keeps holding you, trying to calm you down. You focus on your breathing, eventually getting it mostly back to normal. You sit fully upright, gazing into his eyes. He looks so worried, but he shouldn't be. "Was it too much, baby?" He asks, cursing himself for how overzealous he was with you.

"No, Eddie. I promise it was amazing, I've never cum so hard before. God, I love you." You pull his slippery face to yours, kissing him deeply to show how much you mean what you're saying. "It wasn't too much for you, was it? I was worried you were gonna drown." You ask as you pull away, but he just smiles.

"I love you too, baby. And you were absolutely perfect, Y/N. So fuckin' sexy, though I imagine we'll both need some water and a shower." He chuckles, glancing at the head of the bed. "Probably some clean sheets too." And you both laugh heartily together. "Let's get cleaned up, darling. Then we can cuddle in bed and I'll read to you." Eddie stands, taking your hand to lead you to the bathroom.

Once you're nice and clean again, and the bed has been tidied up, the two of you get under the covers. Eddie pulls out a Stephen King novel, opening it to the dog-eared page he left off on. You lay your head on his chest, eagerly waiting to hear what happens next in the story. "Happy anniversary, Eds." You say just before he begins to read, craning your neck to give him another kiss.

"Happy anniversary, princess." He meets you in the middle, his heart skipping a beat as your plush lips touch his. "Now, be quiet so we can see what happens with this evil clown." He chides you jokingly, making you giggle. One of his arms wraps around you, while the other holds the paperback open to find his place. You hum lowly as his fingers stroke your back, barely brushing against your skin. He starts to read, his words and warmth putting you in a very content state. "Henry Bowers had gotten too big too fast to be either quick or agile under ordinary circumstances..." He goes on, reading calmly to you in a velvety voice until you fall asleep.

The end.

[flamsparks]

The Importance of Hate being an Option

From someone who's worst is "neutral" and struggles with that too

Numbers regarding how many players on average go for the evil alignment in RPGs change depending who you ask to. But there's a general consensus that they're low.

The fact that evil runs are often less rewarding (closed off quests, lost companions, and so on) surely plays a roll in the choice. But I can guess many players - like me - are just the definition of this:

I am the kind of player who manually saves before starting most conversations with companions, to try again if I fuck up the first time.

And yet.

How I missed the rude option (the real one, not that mildly-direct-still-nice bullshit that was the crossed-armed option) in Veilguard.

Not because I would have used it.

But because, certainly at least most of the times, I would not.

To get Dorian to bring you along to meet his father, you need to have a relatively high approval. And this makes sense. In that moment, Dorian is making himself vulnerable, and you find yourself in a situation where you can hurt him. Truly. You can be awful to him. And the fact that you can makes the whole situation much more real, and makes you understand why Dorian is so worried about what you’re gonna do. You can be evil then. And that’s why choosing not to be makes the whole scene so real. Because I had a choice, and I chose to be decent.

In DAO, you could choose to be literally anything and everything: racist, sexist, blasphemous, EVERYTHING! And you can choose not to be any of them.

The value of being good lies in the freedom of choice only an evil option provides. And the worth of loving is only given by the possibility to hate. One exists only as long as the other is an option.

There's a character in the franchise whose personality really gets on my nerves. I really don't stand them. And yet, can you believe that I love that character? Because they feel real. And that's exactly why I don't stand them: because they feel like a real person, a person I wouldn't get along with irl. And that's why I love their character, and it's one of those I hold dearest in the entire franchise.

You know you've succeeded in writing a character who feels real when there are people who love it and people who hate it. Because that's how people work irl. You can't like everyone you encounter, you can't dislike everyone.

There's ofc nothing wrong with having one or few characters who are just genuinely likeable. Varric was written the way he was to compensate for a group of companions who were otherwise perceived as too antagonistic, at least in the beginning of DA2. And even then, he was still no knight in shining armour. But there's a difference between having a few overall agreeable characters to smoothen out your experience some and outright avoiding any crease in every personality to minimise chances of disliking any characters.

When you write characters trying to make them palatable to everyone, you're inevitably simplifying them to give them only traits people will like and reduce their "flaws" to minor inconveniences at best. But a person's flaws are as much a part of them as their qualities. Again, remove one or the other, and what you have is an empty, painted-over husk.

And this is what I hate most of companions in Veilguard. They are bland, superficial, struggling for tridimensionality. And they feel so incomplete that not only I can't get myself to care for them. I can't even get myself to hate them. You can't hate a sheet of paper for being bidimensional.

I demand my right to hate.

To hate a character, an idea, a plan, an institution. I demand my right to tell people to fuck off, to tell someone they are an idiot, that their plan is bullshit, that I detest what they stand and fight for. I demand a chance to disagree and fight with characters over ideas and ideologies. Not because I would, but because this is what allows for a deep worldbuilding that feels real under every aspect, and gives you characters who feel like real people you can love or hate.

People had questioned in BG3 what was the point of forcing devs to implement evil choices when the vast majority of players wouldn't make them.

This is why. And I missed it awfully in Veilguard.

[cockslutpadalecki]

You Better Run

Summary: Once you’re on his list, there’s only one two ways off.

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven The Hunter) x F!Reader.

Words: ~1K.

Warnings: mentions of multiple orgasms, a little blood consumption, rough sex, mostly just PWP. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Saw the trailer and became immediately feral for this man. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I got right now. Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

The unmistakable stench of blood is heavy in the air. A thick brew of copper and death that makes your nose itch. You try to scrunch it up to ease the sensation, but as it magnifies, you know you need more than that.

You need friction. You need your hands.

You tug against the weight around your wrists, but it fails to lessen. In fact, the pressure intensifies— tightens until you feel the bones in your wrists protesting, and a low rumble follows.

“Tryin’ to get away so soon?”

All you can do is whine in response, the deep, rippling ache between your drenched thighs ripping away your ability to speak.

The hunter fucks like he fights.

Raw. With violent precision. Every move calculated to maximize pain. But you’re grateful he’s not being driven by the need to kill you.

His needs are far more carnal than that.

More weight is forced against your back, the heady aroma of damp soil and hot sweat heavy in your nose. Can feel it wet on your skin as he covers your body with his, the weight pressing you hard against the trunk of the tree in front of you. The scrape of bark is freshly coarse on your flesh— flesh already rubbed raw by the friction of your body shunting against it with animalistic momentum.

A hand moves to cradle your jaw. Stray fingers smear cooling blood across your lips. You try to keep them out of your mouth, but he curls them inwards, encouraging your lips to purse around his probing digits.

The taste is stronger than the smell. Like rolling a dirty penny across your tongue. It initially makes you gag, but as the taste slowly fades from the back of your throat, another replaces it.

Briny. Almost sweet. The taste of you.

You’re reminded of his fingers buried in your cunt— positioned perfectly to make you surrender to his will.

Minutes was all it took for you to submit.

With some reluctance, you start to lap at his fingers, nipping your teeth along his knuckles in an attempt to stifle your moans. Your stomach tightens, rolling and twisting as you shamefully— eagerly— anticipate each thrust that follows.

Fierce grunts sound from behind you— gutturally deep and rough. “You can leave when I let you,” he tells you, his nose in your hair. He tightens his grip around your wrists, using his steel hold to pull you sharply back onto his dripping cock.

You see white. Your knees give out. You shiver and quake, wedged in like a vice as you come yet again. You’ve lost count, your brain fucked out.

“But if you keep comin’ around me like this,” he whispers, voice broken and jagged with lust, “you won’t ever be makin’ it out of my sight.”

***

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

[imjustwritingg]

Other than wanting to wrap Hailey in cotton wool and give her the biggest hug, how are you feeling/what are your thoughts after last nights episode?

This turned into an unofficial review of sorts and it got rather long, so I’ll post it all below the cut for those that want to read my thoughts.

I might be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed the episode. I kinda loved it actually, and it might be one of my favorite episodes. I enjoyed everything about it…the writing, the directing, the acting.

Gwen Sigan wrote the episode, but I gotta give her credit where it’s due because it was pretty damn good in my book. It reminded me a lot of her writing days prior to her becoming show-runner and I miss those days so very much.

I think the tidbits of Hailey’s past are coming way too late, but I still really enjoyed getting to peek into her life a bit more. Just wish we could have gotten more of it along the way and not three episodes before the character is gone.

I loved Kevin’s blatant callout to Hailey in the first minute of the episode of how she’s dealing and if running is helping her. He asks this question of “how are you doing…really doing?” with no words and just one look, and then we’re given the answer by Hailey deflecting and avoiding yet again under the guise of wanting a sugar fix. I think that was brilliant. It conveyed everything you needed to know about Hailey’s mental state in one short moment.

No Voight in the episode was such a gift.

Hailey being in charge and leading this particular case was the right move and she handled it so well. I’m bummed we probably won’t see her leading her own unit someday.

Also back to the no Voight thing just for a moment to say that it’s interesting to see how the dynamic shifted with the team versus him not being around and Hailey being in charge. The team felt lighter to me, like in the sense that they weren’t on edge, walking on eggshells in a way. Everything just felt calmer. There was still an intensity and an urgency to solve the case, but rules were followed, there was no off the book cowboy bullshit, and it felt like everyone followed Hailey and trusted her, whereas with Voight they were obeying orders that were barked out to them. I don’t know. It just felt really different and so very satisfying to me.

I love Kevin and Kim’s ability to communicate with one another with just one look between them. Makes me think of the early days of them being partners and being on patrol. They still work so wonderfully together.

This case was sick. A mother doing that to her own child is demented. Where these writers, and Gwen specifically, come up with these ideas is beyond me, but someone should probably do a wellness check on her. Like girly needs some serious therapy and R&R.

Josephine Petrovic. I had some hesitation with her at first as you usually do with a new character as you try and suss them out, but I’ve gotta say, I like her. I like her and I hate that I like her and I hate that she only just came onto the show because I would love to see what happens with her if she were to stick around, but I can’t watch this show without Tracy or Jesse — mostly Tracy — but neither of them? I just can’t do it. I have some other thoughts on Jo, but I will save them for another ask I received.

I obviously saved the elephant in the room for last…Jay. I really don’t think the mentions and nods to him in this episode were “bad” in any way because it’s stuff that has already been said about the character…Gwen’s version of him at least, but I do think there is a reason why he is being brought up and why there are so many nods to the marriage. Hailey insisted she wasn’t angry with him in the premiere. She signed the divorce papers, sent them off, and that was that and she washed her hands of him. Except she didn’t. Because she is angry, she hasn’t moved on in the year and a half he’s been gone now, signing the papers didn’t give her any closure…hell, even him signing the papers didn’t give her any closure, (I will die on the hill that he only signed them because it’s what he thought she wanted). I personally do not think she will get any closure whatsoever if she doesn’t have a conversation with him, if she doesn’t confront him and all of it head on…the anger and resentment and confusion and the love that is still there. You can’t turn that shit off. You can’t just push it away and be like, “okay, I’m done with you now, goodbye.” Life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. Grief sure as shit doesn’t work that way, and I feel like that is the stage Hailey is stuck in right now. Grieving the loss of Jay and her marriage and stuck in a limbo that she doesn’t know how to navigate on her own while dealing with childhood trauma that she actually isn’t really dealing with at all. And she is without a doubt on her own. That is the one thing that has been made clear this season. She has no family, not any friends other than co-workers, and right now, she doesn’t have Jay. I respect the “independent woman, gonna stand on my own, I don’t need anyone” mindset, but I don’t agree with how we got here and I also don’t fully agree with the notion that she doesn’t need anyone because everyone needs someone. You can’t do life alone. You need someone in your corner, someone by your side, someone who gets you in ways you don’t even know yourself, and for Hailey, that person is and will always be Jay Halstead. I think she will realize she needs to get out of Chicago like her brothers, like Jay, like Will, and I hope that wherever she ends up, Jay is there waiting for her and the two of them can just start over without Chicago and their past looming over them like a dark cloud. And for the love of God, let them both go to therapy…together and separately.

Brenna Malloy directed and it was just…perfect. True cinema if you will. The close-ups of the actors’ faces during certain scenes and how the camera would pan to them at just the exact right moment for a reaction, the no background noise and intentional pauses during scenes that allowed moments to feel heavier and more real, the ending shot of Hailey and her teary eyes…I feel like it was a story that was so delicately handled and crafted by Brenna, and I’m just really impressed.

Tracy Spiridakos. I mean, what more even needs to be said? The woman is a powerhouse. It always amazes me knowing how much of a goof she is on set and then you watch an episode like this and it’s just like…WOW. Her range of emotion and the way she makes you feel every single one of those emotions is truly something that needs to be studied. You cry with her, you smile with her, you laugh with her, but the biggest thing is you feel for her character, and I think that is something that not all actors are capable of doing with an audience. Tracy knocks it out of the park, across the highway, into the next town every time, and her execution is consistent every time as well. No one is doing it like her, and I love and respect the hell out of that woman and her talent.

I think the same also needs to be said for Bojana Novakovic. I have been surprisingly impressed by her and kind of adore her. I’ve really been enjoying the character of Josephine Petrovic and I hate that she’s only coming into the show now right when Tracy is walking out the door because Bojana alone is incredible, but her and Tracy together? It’s like magic to me. Their chemistry as scene partners and the way they bounce off each other is absolutely insane, and then their ability to pull you in and keep you locked in…ooof. I think it’s something special and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them together on-screen.

As for how I feel…

I feel good? Okay? The episode didn’t do much for me in the grand scheme of “what is Hailey gonna do” or “what’s gonna happen” because we already anticipated her leaving Chicago. That wasn’t ever in question. But the actual reason for Hailey leaving is still muddled to me, even more so because she hasn’t resolved anything in her life. She still has these demons, a past filled with trauma she hasn’t found peace with, she has no closure with Jay, she has questions and zero answers, and she is already and literally running from her problems.

So, is she supposed to leave Chicago and start over somewhere and her problems are just gonna go poof? Magically disappear? Because that’s not how that works, and I think that would be yet another injustice to the character and more lazy writing. I do think the episode (finally!) laid the groundwork for Tracy’s exit, but it should have started in episode 1, not 10. Tracy gave them an entire season to wrap up Hailey’s story, and I feel like they wasted so much time and it’s gonna be another rushed exit once the curtain falls. It’s not that I’m surprised in that regard, but I am disappointed (again!) especially considering how much of a fuss Gwen made about “it’s so generous of Tracy to give us a whole season.”

If Gwen’s plan was to make Hailey’s exit about her family and her childhood trauma then the seed should have been planted long before now, and Jay shouldn’t still be a sore subject for her. I think we’re in for a really emotional ending to the season, not just for Hailey, but for the first time since season eight I’m actually looking forward to a finale again.

In conclusion and a very long story short…I loved the episode, but Gwen Sigan is still on my shit list.

[skepsiss]

(he's) a runaway foal that doesn't know where to go.

Remember! If you love a post, Reblog, don't just Like! This is the art I did for @moltenchocolatelavacake's lovely fic! Learn all the deets below, and give it a read! Full deets below the cut.

[Read it here]

Words: 17,540 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Steddie, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Original Male Character (minor)

Summary:

Steve Harrington has always loved too much, he knows this. And yet he's never been enough for anybody. It's why relationships never work out for him. But he tried again because of course he did. Always too stupid for his own good, his feelings were bullshit. A week after having his heart broken by a man he believed he’d meant more to than flirty phone calls and occasional fucks, Steve ends up at Forest Hills Trailer Park. He’d gone looking for a reprieve, a comfort, a way out of his grief. Instead, he finds a pair of pale arms and a yearning heart eager to help him heal and, maybe, show him his love is enough.

Please do not use or repost this art without permission. In case it wasn't obvious... art by me.

Chapters: 3/3 [Finished] Words: 17,540 Fandom: Stranger Things - Fandom, Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationship: Steddie, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Original Male Character CWs: Angst, Heartbreak, Healing, Slow Burn (But just a little), Friends to Lovers, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Alcohol, Open Relationships

Collections: Steddie Big Bang 2023. Steddie Bigbang project #214

This is for the @steddiebang! I really loved creating this piece, and as Molten said in one of our chats, "it's like an eye-spy book of my fic!" Find all the details, I put a lot of love into it ;3

[discokicks]

FOX IN THE BOX — ROY KENT.

PART TWO of ACES AT THE WATER’S EDGE.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: back in 2012, you and roy meet for the first time. in 2023, you sign a one-year contract with richmond and have to work with roy for the first time. both go about as well as you’d expect.

word count & rating: 9.6k, R (roy kent says fuck and does fuck!)

chapter warnings: swearing, light sexual innuendos and light references to sex, mentions of alcohol and partying (the olympians get DOWN in olympic village) minor allusions to what happened to reader at west ham, major football talk, roy kent is rich, original character intros and plot (author really likes a plot, woo boy), angst, and of course, fluff.

author’s note: ok wow, thank you for all the love on the first chapter! wildly unexpected but much appreciated. this one’s got a bit more to it— jumping timelines, original characters, lotta soccer/football talk, reader and roy don’t know how to act (in more ways than one). also did crazy research into the 2012 olympics for this, so no one tell me my timeline’s off or i’ll cry. also also, is roy's sister named molly or is that just evidence that i've read too many fics? whatever it is, her name's molly! thank you again for the love and i hope you all enjoy! love you all tons! -mags

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)

You meet Roy Kent for the first time at midnight, in a rookie’s dorm room in the Olympic Village.

It’s a seemingly unlikely place for a football phenom like him to be. You’d expected all of those guys to choose to be elsewhere, exploiting their home-country advantage to hang out in their posh flats. But there they were, carrying out their team bonding efforts to prepare for their game tomorrow. 

Knowing what you know about Roy now, it’s fitting for him to have been there. But in this moment, you’re shocked to see the likes of him in Olympic Village. 

It’s a place that’s convinced you that your college career was only good for preparing you for it. And you’re not even talking about the sports aspect of it. You’re talking about the shit-show, chaos-menu of athletes from around the world, acting as though it’s the first week of freshman year.

Despite the fact that alcohol, drugs, and any other traditional party favors are completely off-limits on-premises, it doesn’t seem to deter your fellow Olympians from running the dorms like it’s a frat party. You’re half-convinced you’re going to get a classic ‘who do you know here’ from the trust-fund-looking Australian swimmer you pass getting into your building, but he just sends a heartbreaking smile at you and your teammate as you walk in.

Your team’s fresh off the bus from Glasgow, having just beat France at Hampden Park. It was a hell of a way to open, despite the Opening Ceremony not taking place for another two days. As a younger player who’d proven herself in last year’s World Cup, you were the starting striker in your first Olympic game ever, scoring the second goal of the match and assisting the fourth. The adrenaline of it all hadn’t quite worn off yet. 

It’s clear that your teammate’s feeling the same way. Melanie Rivera, your left winger and for all intents and purposes, best friend, is straight-up vibrating. You’d met during World Cup training, where you two had instantly clicked and she’d taken you under her wing to show you the ropes and what it meant to play at this level. Despite this being her second Olympics, the feeling of a win never goes away. Or at least, that’s what she tells you.

The two of you are practically bouncing off the walls as you arrive on your floor, giggling to yourselves about different things that had happened during the game. Your fluent-in-French full-back telling off a French forward when she got too close to your goalie. The mid-game mishap where some French girl’s cleat went flying. The ‘bullshit’ yellow card Mel had received right before the half (Mel knew it was a fair call, she’d totally pushed that girl). 

“She was asking for it, though,” Mel insists, collapsing onto your bed as you enter your shared room. “Pulling on my shirt the whole game. I have two rules. Two. Don’t—”

You roll your eyes, having heard these rules a million times. “—touch my goalie, and don’t—”

“—touch my fucking kit,” she finishes, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. Her eyes shut with a huff.  “They’re pretty simple. Don’t know why people can’t follow them.”

“Yeah, it’s a travesty,” you reply dryly. Your lip curls into a grimace as you look at her. “You wanna know what my rules are?”

One of Mel’s eyes opens with a knowing smile. “Don’t be sweaty on your bed?”

“Oh, so we do remember,” you say, falsely cheery. The faux smile falls from your face. “Get off. Or at least shower. I want to go to bed and I don’t want to like, smell you.”

Mel rolls off your bed with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” she relents. “But you can’t go to bed.”

Your expression remains unamused. “And why not?”

“Because the British men’s team is hanging out upstairs,” she states as if the answer’s obvious.

“Right. Of course,” you reply. “So, we’re crashing their team bonding?”

“No,” she says, pointing at you. “Their women’s team crashed. And then Jack texted me to tell us to come up.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Uh-huh. Is Paige there?”

Mel shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Maybe.”

“Oh, great,” you say sarcastically. “So, you’re forcing me to stay awake so I can wingman you?”

Mel flops on your bed once more. “Please,” she cries. “Dude, I like her so fucking much. We’ve been texting since the Cup and I don’t know, this year I think I’ve got a chance.”

“Why can’t Jack wingman you? He’s clearly down to set you two up,” you say, sounding a bit whiny. “Also, why are they hanging out here? I thought they’d rent a place or stay at their own houses.”

“They make the rookies stay in the Village their first years. It's for the experience, or whatever,” she answers. That’s brushed to the side quickly. “Also, Jack is a fucking awful wingman. The only type of scoring he’s good at is on the field.” She looks at you expectantly. “And I can’t go up there alone. I’ll look like a loser.”

You gape at her. “You are twenty-seven years old.”

“And I’ll look like a twenty-seven-year-old friendless loser!” When she sees the expression you’re wearing, she tilts on her side. “Say yes or I’ll roll around in your bed.”

You cover your face with your hands, an exhausted laugh echoing into your palms. This clearly is a losing battle, and you decide you’re going to be a good friend tonight. “Fine,” you groan, hearing your bed squeak as she launches herself off of it with a cheer. “An hour. That’s it. And then I’m going to bed and never talking to you again.”

“I can live with that,” she yells, bounding for the shower in your room. “I’ll text Jack that we’ll be up in thirty!”

“You owe me so big!” you reply.

You can hear Mel’s grin when she says, “I love you, too!”

Thirty minutes later, you’re freshly showered and up three floors, standing outside of the rookie’s dorm room. You can hear just how loud it is from outside and you suddenly really feel like you’re back in college again. 

It takes Mel a solid three minutes to work up the courage to knock on the door, something that you’re sure would have taken longer if you hadn’t reached out and done it yourself. She scowls at you, but the door opens before she can cuss you out.

Jack Wilson, Tottingham sweeper and three-time Olympian, answers the door with a wide smile. You’d met him a handful of times due to his friendship with Mel and he was just as lovely as everyone had said. There was a charming sort of awkwardness about him despite his status as a professional footballer, but it made him all the more endearing to you. 

��Glad you finally decided to show,” he said to you two, opening the door wider for you to enter. “Congrats on the win.”

“Thanks,” Mel said, eyes already scanning the small dorm living room for Paige. “What’s up with the team bonding in the dorms?”

You’re also looking around the room, sending smiles to the handful of girls you recognize. “Game tomorrow. Coach wanted us to do dinner as a team, so we ate in that big hall. And we--” he says, pointing to two guys on the couch, “--wanted to see the Village this year. So here we are.”

Your eyes follow his finger to the men, one of which isn’t familiar. The other, you immediately identify as Roy Kent. And his eyes are on you.

He’s easily recognizable, curly hair a bit more tame and managed than the iconic, half-assed mullet he’d had when he first signed with Chelsea. That ever-present scowl only lifts a little when he sees that you and Mel have arrived, but you honestly can’t see much change in his expression due to his drawn brows.

While you’d relied on Mel for the majority of your connections to this new world of football, she’d never really seemed to hang out with the likes of Roy. From what you’d gathered, despite his rather high status, he was a bit of a recluse. Yes, he went out constantly, and yes (if the tabloids were right), he’d certainly dated around, nobody really seemed to know much about him. 

When he’d come up in a team game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ with famous footballers, Mel had told the group that he was a guy of few words, and of the words he did say, ‘fuck’ seemed to be his favorite. Your friend and teammate Katie O’Connor was ready with a terrible impression of him when she answered with ‘fuck,’ especially after Mel also confirmed that the Gina Gershon news was true. 

You try to ignore this as you go over to introduce yourself to them, despite the fact it’s currently setting up camp in your brain. “Nice to meet you guys,” you say to Roy and the other boy on the couch. Jack takes a spot next to you on the floor as you take an empty chair next to the couch. Paige waves at you from her spot when you sit.

Roy nods at you in acknowledgment. “Good showing out there.”

Jack points at you. “Bloody insane goal you had,” he says. “I think I’d break my back if I tried to do a scorpion kick like that. It was fucking class.”

You grin. “Well, lucky for Tottenham, they keep you on the other side,” you say, then quietly add, “Not that it would make a difference.”

You see Roy’s lips twitch up from the corner of your eye, and you bite back a laugh as Jack physically deflates before you. Mel’s heard your comment and runs over to sit on the arm of your chair, which is conveniently close to Paige. “Ooh, is it shit on Tottenham time? Because I haven’t seen your ass in months, so I got a whole list, man.”

As the two of them begin to argue in the way they do, you sit at watch them with a smile. They’d had this type of relationship since you’d met them back at the Cup, when Jack had flown into Germany to see your final games. Despite the loss, those were a wild couple of weeks.

The moment your brain starts to recount them, you can feel a pair of eyes on you. It snaps you out of your haze completely. Especially when you realize that it’s Roy Kent who’s staring at you once more.

You blink at him, slightly confused by the attention. “Hi?”

He nods at you again. He seems to take a moment to evaluate you, and then, “You overthink.”

“W-What?” you ask. The word comes out clunky and confused.

Roy motions to the TV that’s on across the room, one that’s showing highlights from your game. “Out there,” he says. “You overthink.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment. You, feeling unbelievably out of sorts and unsure of what brought this on, Roy, secure and casual, like he just stated the weather. 

Before you can question him, he nods at you for a final time, then stands up. “I’m going home,” he tells the group. “You lot better be fucking ready for the game tomorrow.”

Roy’s out of the room before anyone can say a proper goodbye to him, but no one bats an eye. No questions follow. 

Except you, of course. You’ve got a fucking million.

You overthink on the field? Where the fuck had he gotten that from? How had he seen it? While there were some times, yeah, you got a bit in your head, you’d never considered yourself an overthinker. And even if you were, the overthinking produced results, right? You liked to think you were just three steps ahead of everyone else out there. Not an overthinker.

But what made him say that? What had he seen? Was it your hesitation outside the box in the first fifteen that resulted in you losing the ball? Was it the switch you’d made to get to the goal when your right winger had it on the side? Was there a look on your face when you’d taken that free kick in the second half? You were pretty in your head then, but hey, it led to Mel scoring.

Overthinking. Pfft. He didn’t know what he was talking about. 

But then again, what the fuck was he talking about?

The thought of this unknown bomb dropped on you without any sort of answers quickly and completely took over your mind. Criticism about your playing had never bothered you (you were a twenty-five-year-old female soccer player, and you’d had more horrendous coaches than you could count), but this? This was something that literally made you itch. And you weren’t going to be able to scratch it until you knew what the hell he meant.

Before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself practically chasing Roy out of the room, whipping your head around to figure out which way he’d gone. Lucky for you, the dorm’s slow lifts were on your side. 

Roy stood by the elevator, checking something on his phone as he waited. He clearly doesn’t hear you coming because he nearly drops it when you ask, “What do you mean I overthink?”

“What the fuck?” And now he’s staring at you like you’re the crazy one.

“I should be asking you that!” you say, then motion back to the direction of the dorm. “You tell me I overthink, stare at me with no follow-up, then leave? Who does that?” You’re way too animated for past midnight, but you don’t care. “Because even if I was an overthinker, which I’m not, that sort of stuff is probably the worst thing you can do. Not leaving on a note like that is like, rule number one.”

Roy’s brows shoot up. “I wasn’t aware there were rules.”

“Yeah, well, there are,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. When he continues to just stare at you, you make a face that you hope will cue him to go on. “So, go ahead. Please explain yourself.”

“Explain the overthinking thing?” he asks. “I thought it was pretty fucking simple.”

You roll your eyes. “No, what made you say that? Was it a play I had? Was it something I did? What did you see? I’m just curious as to—”

“You came up the field toward the end of the game,” he says, effectively cutting you off. “And you made a pass to Rivera that led to another pass, then a goal.”

You nod at him, not seeing his point at all. “Yeah? So? It was a great goal by Katie.”

Roy’s expression turns slightly frustrated, as if he’s annoyed that you don’t immediately catch on. “It was a great goal. But the fucking second you saw Rivera next to you, you started thinking ahead,” he tells you. “So far ahead that you didn’t notice how slow and fucking awful your mark was and that you could have had a better goal if you’d stopped thinking.”

There are approximately fifteen seconds of dead air between you two as you attempt to take in what he just said to you. “So, let me get this straight,” you begin. “You’re saying I’m bad because I think too much about teamwork?”

For a moment, you think Roy’s going to slam his head into the elevator door. Instead, he just turns to the buttons and presses them once more. “Fuck’s sake, could these be any fucking slower?”

You’re too far gone at this point to even be offended. “Uh, it doesn’t matter. You started this. You’re not going anywhere until we finish it. Why does me not being a selfish dick make me bad?”

“I didn’t say you were bad. You’re not. Clearly,” he responds. You note a bit of the classic ‘Roy Kent’ anger laced within his words and it makes you snap your mouth shut. “I’m just saying. You’re at your best when you’re not so fucking nice and when you don’t fucking think.”

Unconsciously, your arms cross over your chest. “I’ve got twenty-two years of playing time and about ten coaches that would disagree with that.” 

Once more, you see the corner of his mouth slide upward as he glances at you. “If that’s the case, then your coaches were all idiots. They weren’t smart enough to let you loose.”

An unexpected warmth rises to your cheeks. But instead of acknowledging it, you ask, “What, like you’d be a better one?” Before he can respond to that, you’re talking again. “And even if all of that were true, I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

Roy’s brow creases. “Do what?”

“Not… think ahead,” you say. “Or not think at all. That being three steps ahead thing is kind of, well, my thing.” You offer a shrug. “The generous, teamwork thing too. I like that. It’s what makes me good.”

Roy continues to look at you, but says nothing. For a moment, all is quiet as he just… stares, almost as if he can see through you. Like he’s privy to something you’re not, or he’s had some sort of revelation about you. You’re not sure anyone’s ever looked at your this hard. It’s a bit unnerving and you have to fight to not avert your eyes.

Before you can begin to further overthink that (god fucking damn it), he’s holding his phone out to you. You stare down at it blankly. 

“You’re showing me your phone,” you state, but it’s almost a question.

Roy rolls his eyes. “Put in your fucking number,” he says.

Your lips purse as you hesitate, but you find yourself reaching out for it. “Is this how you typically do it?” you ask, typing your name into his contacts. “You neg a girl for five minutes straight and then ask her for her number?”

Roy rolls his eyes again, but there’s humor amongst the annoyance this time. “I’m going to text you a time and an address,” he tells you. You hand him his phone back. “Be there on Friday after the Opening Ceremony.”

The elevator had finally arrived in the middle of his sentence and you eye him wearily as he steps in. “Just… show up to this address?” you ask. “Do I get context? Like, what to expect? What am I dressing for?”

“Overthinking,” he reminds you as he presses the button for the lobby. “Just fucking be there.”

Before you can object further or tell him that you were not in fact overthinking, you were just a woman in a foreign city concerned for your safety, he leans forward to stop the doors from closing. He’s got one hand up and has a small smirk on his face.

“And just so we’re crystal fucking clear,” he says. “If I were trying to chat you up, you’d fucking know it.”

Your eyes immediately fix into a glare and the doors close before you can say anything in response. “Asshole,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re already flipping your phone over to see if he’s texted you.

(You won’t know this until much, much later, but Roy Kent let out a loud and regretful ‘fuck!’ as soon as he was five floors down, absolutely cringing at the idea that he used a line like that on someone like you. It plagued him for three years straight.)

PRESENT DAY. (EARLY AUGUST, 2023)

On a day when Roy not only had the strangest interaction of his life with Jamie Tartt in the Boot Room, but he also found out that Trent fucking Crimm would be lingering around all season, he was sure that he was done with surprises at Nelson Road.

That quickly proved to be false, as he soon found that Ted was rounding the team up in the media room for some sort of meeting.

Roy saw Beard as he was leaving the Coaches’ Office and sent a questioning look his way. “Did I miss film on the agenda?”

Beard shook his head. “Nope. Impromptu. We just heard back.”

“Heard back?” Roy asked, watching Beard go to leave the room. “The fuck are you on about?”

Beard smiled at him in the doorway. “We got her,” he said and left with a skip in his step that Roy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before.

They’d gotten her? Got who? 

Then it hit Roy. Oh. You. They’d gotten you.

You’d said yes. You were joining Richmond. He’d helped convince you. Despite everything, despite all that had happened and everything you two had done, you’d said yes. You were willing to work with him. You were now going to be back in his life for worse or for better. And not just back in his life, but a fucking constant in it.

Then that hit Roy. The reality of it all fucking bodyslams him and it makes his heart race. After eight years of cold-turkey no-contact, he was going to be seeing you every day. After everything he’d done. After everything you had done.

Roy realized then that he didn’t exactly consider this feeling. That he was so blindsided by Rebecca’s request and by seeing you that he didn’t even think about this. It had been hard enough to work up the nerve to confront and speak to you once. Would it feel like that all season? Had you considered this?

But then, he remembered you and how you think about every fucking angle of every situation. You definitely had thought about this. And if you were willing to push the discomfort, the awkwardness, the whatever in order to have this job, he supposed he had to be too.

Roy swore under his breath, turning away from his desk to get his head back on straight. The team was waiting for him. He could mope about this in the comfort of his own home later.

He arrived in the room just as the rest of the team was getting in. The boys were buzzing. Between the news of a potential Zava acquisition and the Trent Crimm book development, as well as whatever this was, they couldn’t seem to stop talking. Roy didn’t blame them. It was a lot for one day. 

(It’d been a lot for him too. With everyone now knowing about his break-up with Keeley, to fucking Trent Crimm, to you, he was surprised he hadn’t gone outside to scream yet. But he presumed that was coming.)

“Alright fellas, listen up,” Ted said from the front of the room, holding his hand up to get everyone’s attention. The team quieted down after a moment. “I know there’s been a lot of talk going around this week. And I know y’all are excited. But I’ve got some more news.”

“I don’t know if I can take any more,” Dani said, sending a wave of agreement through the group. “It’s hurting my head.”

Ted chuckled. “I know. Mine too. And we’re the ones who have to manage all this,” he said, motioning to Beard and Roy who stood against the wall. “But this is good news.”

Good news? That was something the team could manage.

“So, how many of you are familiar with the Women’s World Cup that happened back in 2015?” he asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

A murmur went through the team. “America won?” Colin offered. “Crazy final game that was.”

Isaac pointed at Roy. “You did some shit for Sky Sports for this Cup, right?”

As the boys began to recall this, Jaan Mas said, “Why they gave you another pundit job after that completely blows my mind.”

“Yes, Roy did do some TV work over here,” Ted answered after the laughter died down. “And yes, America won. But does anyone remember what this Cup started to be called?”

It seemed as though no one had an answer. That is, until Beard cleared his throat said, “The Summer of Fourteen, baby!”

Ted snapped at his best friend. “That’s exactly right, Coach. And despite it being the 2015 Cup, they called it that because of this woman right here.”

Ted had brought up what is perhaps the most iconic photo of you to date. It’s one of the first things to come up if you were to Google yourself, a picture that’s haunted you for the last eight years. It’s from the 2015 quarter-final. You’re mid-penalty kick against China, scowl on your face as your foot collides with the ball, blood dripping down your face from the broken nose you’d received moments before. 

(It’s certainly not the most elegant or flattering picture of you that exists, especially when your fellow teammates’ search results yielded photos of them at the ESPYs, but you still think you’ve never looked like more of a badass.)

Ted said your name smoothly as he pointed to you on the screen, annunciating all syllables. “Wildly prolific USA Women's athlete despite her rather short time in the league. And while she was always good, y’know, starting striker since she began and all that—” He chuckled, turning to look at his other coaches, who had knowing smiles on their faces. “—I don’t know. There was something in the water in 2015. Because she just became…”

Ted trailed off, looking for the word. This time, Roy found it before Beard. “A nightmare,” he said, with a suppressed yet fond sort of smile. “She was a fucking nightmare out there.”

“In a good way, of course,” Ted cleared up, earning a nod from Roy. “But, yeah. A nightmare. Wonderful teammate and fantastic playmaker, but man…” Ted trailed off with a low whistle. “We were all glad she played for our neck of the woods.”

Jamie’s hand went up. “Didn’t she just get like, hired and fired by West Ham?”

“Wonderful segue there, Jamie,” Ted said. “Because yes, that is true. She was with West Ham for a couple months. First female coach in the league. Pretty impressive stuff, and it was a pretty big deal. And then something went wrong, and they let her go.” The team made a noise of acknowledgment, all of them having seen it in the news. “And I don’t know what happened, and we probably won’t know what happened, but we knew she was too good to leave the league. Lucky for us, we need a new coach. And she needs a new job.”

There was a wide smile on his face when Sam asked, “So she will be joining Richmond?” 

“That she is, Sam,” Ted replied, earning yet another eruption of chatter amongst the group. “She’ll be joining us on Monday. And while I know you fellas will do everything you can to make her feel welcome and will show her the same level of respect that you show us up here—” Ted pointed to his coaches once more, glancing down at the computer in front of him. “—I’m going to show you why she deserves it more than us.”

A YouTube video of your highlights appeared on the big screen, going full-screen as the quick ad ended. Ted stepped back from the computer, sitting down on the stool behind him to watch along with the rest. 

Your famous 2012-France-Scorpion-Kick goal just so happens to be the first thing up and Roy’s heart nearly stops. It’d been years since he’d seen this clip and he was immediately transported back to the night you two met. A ghost of a smile unconsciously made its way up his face as he watched your body contort to flip around, and the ball soar into the net. It was a goal of pure and utter instinct. You hadn’t thought about it. You just ran in there like a maniac and knew what to do. That one gets an immediate reaction from the team.

The next one is a play you’d set up in the Quarter-Final New Zealand game, with a bunch of quick passing in the box to confuse and rattle the defense. Melanie Rivera had sent you a world-class assist for an even better goal, one that earns you the title of ‘Fox in the Box’ from the past commentator on screen. The next, an impressive goal scored after an injury you’d had in the Semi-Finals against Canada. Then, and perhaps most famously, your assist to Katie O’Connor from midfield to win the Gold. 

And they hadn’t even gotten to the World Cup yet.

The World Cup footage made up the other three-fourths of the video. It was a completely different side of you, one that had thrown caution to the wind, one that had a huge fucking chip on her shoulder, one that was just… insane. In all the best ways and meanings.

Roy’s shock of the day, though, comes after a highlight of you completely blowing past three Colombian defenders. You’d broken the fourth’s ankles with your footwork in the box for a quick goal. Footwork of yours that had been massively improved, Roy noted. And he would know, he’s the one who did it.

Arlo White’s voice filled up the room. “And yet another breakaway goal from USA’s Mean Fourteen!” The clip said. “It’s just remarkable to watch her work this year, don’t you think, Roy?”

Roy felt all eyes on him when he heard his own voice on the speakers. “I don’t know what USA would do without her,” 2015 Roy Kent said. “I’d hate to have her against me.”

It was strange for Roy to hear his own voice mock him like that. And as the team began to cheer for him, he felt a pit form in his stomach. They didn’t even know.

The highlight reel continued for another couple of minutes, and it seemed with each play, the boys became more excited about the prospect of being coached by someone like you. Beard and Ted were evidently just as ecstatic about the development, and Roy knew he had to get on board. Warp his feelings and nerves and whatever else into something resembling his team’s attitude.

After all, he was the reason you were joining.

The lights came up as soon as the video ended, snapping Roy back to reality. Ted smiled at the team. “Alright, fellas. Now, let’s get to work on the welcome party.”

The boys hooped and hollered, each of them getting up to join in whatever Ted had planned. Beard looked over at Roy as the rest filed out. 

“You think we’re ready for her?” he asked.

Roy hated the weird fucking sixth sense Beard had when it came to… well, everything. He made Roy feel like he was completely transparent. “We’re ready for her,” he replied.

Though, he wasn’t sure if he was assuring Beard or himself.

PRESENT DAY. (EARLY AUGUST, 2023.)

You sign a one-year coaching contract with AFC Richmond that Monday in Rebecca Walton’s office.

The news broke that you’d been picked up by Richmond on Friday, something that had completely come alive in the press world. Your face was plastered over all of the papers yet again, newscasters seemed to mention your name every time you turned on your TV, and social media was set on fire. Everyone had something to say about this move and the majority of it wasn’t too positive.

You tried to keep your nose out of it, knowing just how much you did not need to see people talking about you like that. The majority of the negativity was from West Ham fans, wishing Richmond ‘luck’ with the likes of you, others wishing you good riddance. 

If they knew how happy you were to be out of there, you’re not so sure they’d be as excited to let you go.

Though signings on every level in this league were typically more public affairs, ones with major press conferences and coverage, you’d requested this to be quieter. Just a few statements from the people who mattered and a pen and paper. You’d been in the media a bit too much for your liking over these past couple of months, and if you could get some exclusivity, you’d take it. 

Rebecca, thankfully, was more than happy to comply. You’d been in contact with her practically non-stop since you’d called her, and she’d been nothing but lovely to you. Each interaction with her made you feel better about this job, despite the cloud of anxiety that still hung over you.

You’re sitting in a chair opposite Rebecca’s desk when a message from Mel comes through. i always liked richmond better than west ham anyway, she says. paige and i bought shirts and will be at every game. 

A photo comes through shortly after of her three-year-old toddler, decked out in a Jamie Tartt jersey. oliver’s already got his!

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, fingers tapping against your screen with a quick response. adorable. give him and paige a hug for me. and i’ll be freaking out so bad at every game that i’m gonna need you there anyway, so i’m holding you to that.

you’ll be incredible. knock ‘em dead, kid.

Rebecca re-enters her office before you can respond with a thank you. She’s got Coach Ted Lasso in tow, who could not be grinning brighter at you. The second you see him, you think about everything Nate had told you during your short time at West Ham, and something within you just can’t believe it. The energy of Richmond had been different as soon as you walked through the door. The good kind of different. And their manager appeared to not be an exception.

Ted greets you immediately with an outstretched hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” he says after your introduction. “I gotta tell you, we’re all mighty excited that you’re here.”

“I think I might be more excited,” you reply, and it’s an honest answer. Or at least, you’d been able to shift your nerves about the job into excitement. You’d only anxiety-thrown up once today. You figured that was an accomplishment. “Seriously. Thank you both again for the opportunity.”

“We’re just grateful you said yes,” Rebecca says. You can tell she means it. “The team’s been buzzing all week.”

The nerves return at the mention of the team, but you mentally scream at yourself to get over it. “Well, I’m just excited to get started.”

“Speaking of getting started, we should probably head downstairs,” Ted says to Rebecca. “I wanna show our new coach around a bit before practice gets going.”

“Of course, don’t let me keep you,” Rebecca responds. “I’ve got a couple more things for you to sign before you leave today, so just make sure to stop by. If you have any questions, my door’s always open, or you can ask Leslie, who you met earlier, who’s always wandering around somewhere.” Her smile gets warmer as she puts a hand on your shoulder. “And we really are pleased to have you joining us.”

You wonder for a moment how a woman like her could have ever been married to an asshole like Rupert, but you suppose that’s a story for another day. “Thank you,” you say again, a bit of that anxiety washing away. “I’m happy to be here.”

Ted leads you out of the office, his tour starting from the minute you exit. He offers a bit of insight into himself and his time at Richmond, his past two years working with Rebecca, then launches into what he knows about the history of the place (and you don’t have the heart to tell him that Rebecca had already done that when you’d arrived). 

The facility is gorgeous, but it feels a bit more lived-in and welcoming than what you remember about West Ham. Everything there was so manicured and monochromatic and sterile. Nothing about it felt like a place you’d want to work.

Richmond is the opposite. It’s bright and colorful and you can hear people laughing as soon as you step down into the lower level. While your nervousness about the team still lingers, you can feel it easing. You’ll see how long that lasts.

You’re stepping into the Coaches’ Office before you even realize it, mind too occupied with taking in your new surroundings and trying to keep up with Ted’s story. You resent the overwhelming amount of relief you feel when you realize there are only two men in the office, and neither of them are Roy. 

One is sitting with his feet crossed up on his desk and a book in his face. The other is writing on a notepad at a separate desk. You’re surprised by the speed at which both of them jump up to greet you as you and Ted enter.

“Alright, Coach, this is Coach Beard,” Ted says, and you meet Beard’s hand for a shake. “He’s one of the guys you’ll be working with this season.”

“Nice to meet you,” Beard says, nodding your way.

“You too,” you reply. Your eyes are drawn to the book he placed down on his desk and you allow yourself to grin. “I love Merlin Sheldrake.” When his brows shoot up in surprise, you shrug. “I’ve got a lot of time in the off-season.”

Beard’s eyes light up. “We’ll get along just fine.”

Your grin grows and you hear Ted’s voice from behind you. “Is that that mushroom book?” he asks. “I don’t think Beard’s ever found someone who reads that stuff too. I guess we’ve now got two Fun-guys in the group.”

You glance over at Beard. “Now it's a Fung-us.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ted’s hand come up to his mouth as he looks over at his best friend. For whatever reason, it’s clear that the two of them are trying to contain their excitement. Before you can question it, Ted places a hand on your shoulder. “Oh, you’ll fit right in here, Ace.”

The nickname catches you off guard. It’s something that you haven’t heard since your playing days, something that the commentators and pundits loved to call you. It was always a compliment when they said it, but something about the way that your new manager says it makes it sound more like a title than a name. Like that’s what you are. 

It immediately makes you feel welcome and you can feel yourself warm into their excitement.

The other man in the room, who’s been watching this interaction in amusement, steps forward to hold out his hand to you as well. “Trent Crimm.”

Now, it’s your turn to raise your brows. “You’re the writer who keeps calling me?”

A smile that could also be a cringe appears on his face. “Guilty,” he answers. “Just trying to cover all the bases for the book.”

“I get it,” you tell him. “If you still want a quote, I’d be happy to give you one. But I can’t guarantee it’s going to be clean.”

Trent chuckles. “I’ll take what I can get at this point.”

There’s a moment where you almost question what he means by that, but you brush it off. Especially now that Ted’s started talking again. “Roy's running a little late, but I’ve heard y’all already know each other, so we’re not technically missing an introduction.”

That makes you pause. You’d figured that when Roy had appeared on your doorstep he’d told at least Rebecca about your past, and that the probability he’d told the staff was high too. But exactly how much had he told them? Did they know the basics or did they know everything?

You then realize it’s Roy you’re talking about. There was no way in hell he’d told them anything more than what Ted said. That you knew each other. Maybe that things hadn’t ended smoothly. But that was it.

That, at least, gives you a bit more confidence. Ted turns to you and leads you back into the small, adjoining room you’d walked through, pointing at an almost empty desk. “That’s yours,” he tells you. “Feel free to dress it up with whatever you want, and get yourself unpacked. We’re starting practice in about fifteen minutes and Coach Beard and I gotta set some things up, but I’d like to introduce you to the fellas before you start shadowing. That all sound good?”

You grip the strap of your backpack and nod at him with a smile. “Works for me, Coach.”

Ted grins, patting you on the arm. “Glad to hear it.”

And with that, he returns to his desk, making sure to leave the door open as he leaves.

You plop your backpack on your desk and begin to empty out your things. You grab your laptop first and place it on your desk, followed by a couple of knick-knacks and photos you brought along, ones that never felt at home at your desk at West Ham. There’s a rational piece of you that knows you should stop comparing the two places, but the pettier, more aggressive side of you tells it to fuck off.

(You like to listen to that one when you can these days.)

You’re holding a photo of a baby Oliver dressed in a Women’s USA onesie when you hear someone else walk into the room. You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.

Roy Kent is standing in the doorway, staring at you like he completely forgot your signing day was today.

Of course, Roy hadn’t. He’d been pacing around his flat all morning because of it. It was actually why he was late to work. But he hadn’t expected to see you as soon as he walked in. In his office. Now, your office too, he supposed.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, much like you did when you saw each other again for the first time last week. However, it appears that you’re both acutely aware of the three sets of eyes that are on you two from the other room.

Like you’re snapping into a scene in a play, Roy’s expression rids itself of all surprise. “Coach,” he says stiffly, nodding at you.

Coach. You suddenly remember your previous conversation. It’ll be professional. Civil. I won’t let there be any issues. 

Well, if he won’t let there be any issues, you’re sure as hell not going to give him the satisfaction of causing any.

So, instead, you return his nod. “Coach,” you greet him. As he puts his things on the desk opposite yours, your heart falls into your stomach, “A-Are we…”

“Sharing an office?” he finishes for you. You nod weakly. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” you say, then awkwardly add, “Fun.”

“I’m over the fucking moon,” he deadpans.

You bite your tongue, trying not to retort too quickly to a comment like that. You look away from him and to the keys in his hand and you prepare for the small talk you’re about to force yourself to engage in. “Tough ride in?”

It seems to take him a moment to process the question. The awkwardness of it all lingers. “Something like that,” he answers. However, his gaze is stuck on the picture in your hand. “What the fuck is that?”

Your brows furrow and you glance down. So much for small talk. “This?” You hold up the photo. “Oh, this is, uh, Oliver. Mel and Paige’s son.”

“Fuck off,” Roy says in a way that’s almost inquisitive, though the relief in his voice is palpable. You try to ignore that. “I didn’t know they had a kid.”

You huff a laugh despite yourself, and a bit of weight falls from your shoulders. “You clearly don’t follow Mel on anything,” you reply, then pause. “Oh, wait. I forgot. You don’t do social media.”

“It’s a waste of fucking time,” he says, reaching out to look at the photo. When you hand it to him, he mutters, “I think Rivera would have me blocked if I did, though.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” you say honestly. You take the picture back from him and place it on your desk. Your next question comes out casual, and you can’t help but be proud of how nicely this is all flowing. “Speaking of kids, how’s Phoebe doing? And how’s Molly?”

You’re not expecting the hint of shock on Roy’s face when you turn back to him. It’s as if he can’t believe you’re asking about his sister, or that you remembered the name of his niece that you met when she was no more than six months old. You want to slap him upside the head for looking at you like that because, of course, you fucking remember that, but a knock on the door from the other room interrupts your conversation.

Trent’s standing hesitantly in the doorway, notepad in hand. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says, and he appears to be avoiding eye contact with Roy. “But if you were serious about talking, would you be free to do it tomorrow?”

You offer him a warm smile, hoping that’ll contrast Roy’s crossed arms and hard stare directed at him. “Sure thing.”

“No,” Roy immediately says. “You’re not fucking talking to him.”

Confusion takes over. “Why not?” you ask.

“Because no one’s fucking talking to him,” is Roy’s answer, firm, with no room for argument. His eyes never leave Trent. “And don’t try to fucking weasel your way into this team through someone who doesn’t fucking know any better, Crimm. You’re fucking better than that.”

You’re gaping at Roy as Trent nods at you kindly and retreats into the locker room. When you look back into the office to see if you can get some clarity from one of your other new colleagues, you notice that they’re both missing. Ted did say they had to set some things up.

You suppose that just gives you the ability to talk freely to Roy now.

“I’m sorry,” you say, whipping back to Roy who’s already facing his desk. “Has he not been given the O-K to write a book about this team?”

Roy grunts. “He has. But it doesn’t mean we’re fucking talking to him.”

“Well, doesn’t that, like, defeat the purpose of him writing a book?”

“You’re catching on.”

You lean back against your desk, folding your arms to take on Roy’s previous stance. “Oh, I see,” you say in understanding. “This is a Kent Rule.”

He doesn’t have to be facing you for you to know he rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not.”

“Oh, it’s totally a Kent Rule.” You stare at his back as he shifts his shoulders in discomfort. “You hate him, so you’re forcing the team to hate him. Enemy mine is enemy yours? That’s Kent Rule number three, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“It’s a team rule,” he states. “I’m just enforcing it.”

“Right,” you agree, though your voice says differently. “Each person here hates him so much that they allowed him to write a book here.”

Roy shakes his head with a scoff. “Fuck’s sake, I forgot how fucking irritating you were.”

“I’m not being irritating. You’re being evasive.” You only get another grunt in response. Fed up, your frustration at his lack of an explanation starts to seep into your tone. “So, what? I’m just supposed to ice that nice guy out because you say so?”

When Roy finally looks at you, he’s scowling. “He’s not fucking nice,” he says. “And you don’t know anything.”

“I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me,” you argue. 

“My word’s not good enough?”

You glare at him. “Your word hasn’t been good enough in eight fucking years.”

Roy shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Definitely not telling you now.”

“Okay, enough,” you say, scanning the room and the hall to make sure no one’s watching the two of you. You put a hand up before he can retaliate with anything. “Look, if this is gonna work, you have to tell me things, okay? And we can’t argue here. Not here.” You motion to the office around you. “I can’t work with that shit. Alright?”

For a moment, it’s like you can look into Roy’s mind. You watch him appear to recount last week’s talk, just as you did minutes ago. Professional. Civil. No issues.

“Fine,” he finally sighs, knowing you’re right. 

“Fine,” you reply. You take a breath. “So, if he sucks and you don’t want me to talk to him, you need to tell me why. You can’t just order me around like I’m one of the guys, especially not in front of people. I’m your equal here, Roy. Whether you like it or not.”

Roy shakes his head. “You’ve always been my equal,” he says, though it’s a bit softer. “You fucking know that.”

His words leave a lump in your throat that you’re not anticipating. “Well, you’re not acting like it.”

His head tilts back, eyes falling shut. His shoulders tense up. Heavy sigh. Dear God, he really doesn’t want to tell you, huh?

And then it hits you. Oh, fuck does it hit you. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

And you get why.

Roy’s talking as soon as you open your mouth to apologize for pushing him. “The others don’t know either. I’ll tell you when I tell them,” he offers. “That’s the fucking best you’re getting from me.”

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, so you offer a nod. “Fine,” you say softly.

The nod is returned. “Fine.”

The conversation feels finished, but there’s still one more thing you want to say. “And can we agree right here that we’re not going to argue in front of anyone? Just like you said?” you ask. “Like, if you want to pick a fight, just like, pull me into the Boot Room or something. This shit can’t affect the way we do our jobs.”

Humor slants Roy’s expression. “Boot Room fights?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. Not in front of the team.”

“Yeah, I got it,” he says with a nod. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

From the outside of the office, you can hear the team start to file into the locker room from their gym facility, laughing just the same as when you heard them earlier. The alone sound makes you tense up. Roy narrows his eyes at you. 

“Speaking of,” he says cautiously. “I think it might be time for your introduction. Hope you like primary school-level art done by grown fucking men.”

That takes you out of your headspace immediately. “I’m sorry, what?”

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012.)

Mabley Green. Friday. 23:30.

Wear some training gear.

I can send a car for you so you know you’re not being murdered.

You’d read the three messages you’d received two days ago from Roy Kent about a million times. While you’d replied to him that his sending a car felt very mafia boss and definitely doesn’t eliminate the murder possibility, you’d still gathered up the courage to dress up in your nicest sweats, escape from the Village after the Opening Ceremony festivities, and meet his driver on the outskirts.

(Of course, you said yes to the driver. Roy Kent was fucking loaded and if he were going to be strange and summon you places, you were going to take his free transportation.)

You’d confirmed your whereabouts and situation approximately thirty-five thousand times to Mel, who had nothing but questions for you. 

“Roy Kent. Like Chelsea’s finest, here, there, every fucking where Roy Kent?” That’s the one.

“Is sending a car for you to go to where?” I don’t know, it looks like a soccer field. 

“To do what?” Battle Pokemon. I don’t fucking know, Mel. I think he wants to train me.

“Train you or train you?” Why are you saying it like that?

“Because this has to be a weird hook-up thing that famous footballers do, right?” He made it very clear he had no interest. Also, pause. What about me says I’d fuck on a pitch?

“He could bring an air mattress.” Oh my God, I’m leaving.

But as you arrived to this completely empty field, with nobody but your overly friendly driver, Roger to back you up, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. This was weird, wasn’t it? You were meeting up with this guy you barely knew at an abandoned location just because he told you that you were an overthinker? Your mother would be absolutely horrified if she knew. You’d broken just about every Stranger Danger rule she’d set.

However, the second that you stepped out of the car to see Roy illuminated by the field lights, standing with his hood up and a bag of footballs thrown over his shoulder, you knew this was legit. And the anxiety washed away. But a few of the nerves stayed.

“Glad you showed,” he greets, turning to walk to the field as you fell into step with him.

You look over at him expectantly. “So, you are coaching me.”

“No, I’m fucking not,” he says. “I just want to get you out of your head.”

You nod in faux agreement. “Right. Because that’s not coaching.”

Roy rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s called being a nice fucking person.” 

“Right,” you say again. “Because Roy Kent is known best for his kindness.”

He turns to you. Something sparks in you when you notice that he appears to be humored by all of this. “You should be thanking me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” you apologize, sending him a wide smile as you two make it to the field. “Thank you, Coach.” Roy rolls his eyes again and you chuckle softly. “I’ll thank you when I know for a fact you’re not gonna murder me.”

He watches as you plop yourself down on the pitch to stretch a bit. “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t have brought a fucking witness.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Roger could be your Ryan Gosling.”

Roy actually laughs at that one. It’s a sound that you’d never expected to hear, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hear it again. “I wouldn’t trust him to do that kind of driving. Chatty prick can barely get around London.”

“Hey,” you chide. “He was very nice.”

“He’s fucking incredible. Been with him since my Sunderland days. Still a chatty prick.”

You can’t help but smile at the fondness that’s crept into his voice, but you say nothing about it. You bring your knee to your chest in a stretch and look up at him. “So, what’s the plan here, Coach?”

“Not your coach.”

“Right, sorry. What’s the plan here, Zodiac?”

Roy shakes his head, fighting to keep his lips even. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” you ask. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll train with you until your team's out,” he says. “Whenever our match schedules align, we can figure out a time to do shit until you need to go home.”

Your smile turns cocky. “And if we win?”

He practically snorts. “You’re not going to win.”

“But if we do?”

“Then we’ll train until then,” he replies. “And I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.”

You’re not sure what that entails, but anything you want from Roy fucking Kent? It’s an offer that may be too good to pass up. But still, one question lingers. “In exchange for what?”

“What?” he asks.

You stand, lifting one of your feet from the ground so that you can pull it up behind you in another stretch. “A deal works two ways. Exchanging goods or services and all that,” you tell him. “What’s in it for you?”

Roy shrugs. “I need to train too,” he answers. It's a bit simple, a bit evasive. “That’s what’s in it for me.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you say, “you can’t be serious. You want to train with me just to train?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” you respond, slowly realizing he’s serious. “I guess I just kind of assumed when I heard ‘deal’ that you’d want something in return.”

“Well, that’s all I fucking want,” he tells you. “If I think of anything else you can do for me, I’ll let you know.” 

A mix between a scoff and a laugh escapes you. “I’ll be anxiously anticipating your demands.”

He’s turned to his bag of footballs and crouches to grab one, glancing up at you as he rises. “So?” he asks. “Do we have a fucking deal, or what?”

Your foot goes down as you look at him, evaluating him and his offer. You shift your gaze to the field, to the big lights around you, then to the night sky that tells you it’s almost the next day. 

You have a game in Glasgow again tomorrow against Colombia. You’re out past curfew and know your team would both kill you and congratulate you if they knew where you were. You have to be on a bus in less than eight hours. 

But here’s Roy Kent, standing with you on an abandoned pitch in London, offering to train with you. And what kind of idiot passes that up?

“Deal,” you agree, taking the ball from his hand. “Now, where do we start?”

(mini!) TAGLIST: @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut

[darklinaforever]

Heyyy there ! I’ve been a silent spectator of your posts and I simply love your HOD ones. I’m in no mood to watch this season especially how they are trying so hard to butcher Daemon character. Like everyone hates him, he is a mindless,heartless murdering machine whereas Aemond in all his Rapunzel haired glory is telling a sob story to some prostitute that he was different and that he regrets killing Luke ? So they will humanize the most sadictic villain in history but will continue to vilify Daemon? Are these writers on high or what and I may be in the minority but I’m fed up of sad Rhaenyra with her limp,blonde hair and her tired face I get that she just lost her son but give me the Rhaenyra who is fueled with anger and revenge . When in the first episode she said she wanted Aemond I was like finally but once again she is resorted to the same “Oh we are gonna be at war and thousands will die”! I hate how they made these women as “We don’t war why does it have to come to this sort tripe” and I hate what they did to Daemon! They could show that everyone is an excellent dad but not Daemon? It drives me up towards the wall! Sorry for my rant but honestly I hate how Rhaenyra ,Rhaenys are all like Wow! Daemon is so pathetic!

There's nothing wrong with anything you said there. HOTD try to reduce women to being victims of men who are against violence and war to the point that it makes them ridiculous and yet they are treated as being full of wisdom for this bullshit. Give me the Rhaenyra who says she will have her throne or her half-brother's head. The one who swears revenge when her daughter Visenya dies. Give me the Rhaenys who wanted to go into head-on war with the dragons. Give me the Daemon skilled in war who knew that using dragons right away was a bad plan. Give me Daemyra holding a war council together and sharing the same opinions. HOTD is a massacre, there is no other word to describe this series. What kills me is that they basically dumped Rhaenys' reaction onto Daemon in 1x10, and Daemon is vilified to death for it. So Rhaenys in the books is just hungry for war and chaos according to the logic of these shitty showrunners ?

[gffa]

I might be in the minority, but Baylan Skoll is one of the worst characters I ever witnessed. He is nothing but an empty mystery box, yet people praise this douchebag. In fact, there’s nothing original about him: he looks like Emperor Valkorion, he acts like a Dooku wannabe, and he wants to “end the cycle”, mirroring Kreia’s nihilistic agenda. I feel like people only like Baylan because his actor, Ray Stevenson, died and doesn’t want to criticize the character out of fear of being disrespectful towards Ray.

I'm not trying to talk you out of your feelings, anon, but honestly some people just really like Ray Stevenson as an actor (that's me, it's not because he died that I feel obligated to enjoy the character, but because I genuinely liked the gravitas I felt he brought to the role, I liked him as Volstagg in the Thor movies as well, which was long before he died), they really like the aesthetic (some people are not immune to a light dusting of daddy kink), some people are really into that Dooku-style character (*raises hand again*), and some people genuinely like mystery box characters. That's just the way people work, they have different tastes. I can agree to some criticisms of Filoni's writing of the character (which is another thing some people will disagree with me on, too!), I do not have a lot of faith that his story would be satisfying on a purely text level, and I'm extremely wary of any potential recasting, but as the character of Baylan Skoll stands, I genuinely liked the weight and gravity he had, even if there wasn't a ton to go on yet. I liked teasing out potential in the character, that he'd turned towards a bullshit path but that I did feel a pull to the Jedi in him, I liked that he came across as a trauma victim who was coping very badly with that trauma to me, I liked the glimpses we got of his relationship with Shin. It's fine that you don't like those things, but I've gotten several messages along these exact lines, that supposedly people only like him because the actor died, and that's just not my experience at all. If you're coming into my inbox to say how much you dislike him, when I've been clear that I find him intriguing and liked him, then I'm assuming you're expecting a response along these lines. Sometimes I just really, really like characters who are clearly full of shit and on the wrong path, but I feel a pull to examine why they believe what they do, and I find them sympathetic even if I disagree with them. I'm an Anakin Skywalker fan, I love that character with my whole being, it's not a huge leap to also being a fan of a character like Baylan Skoll, especially when played by an actor I thought did a far better job than I was expecting from this series. Nobody's obligated to agree with me, because sometimes people just disagree and if it really bothers you that others like him, blacklist his name and we'll talk about other things we both do like!

[capypub]

Without Warning - Mafia!Joel Miller Scene 2

AU Mafia!Joel Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: T (language, sexual themes, mentions of drugs)

Minors DNI. 18+ content!

Scene 1 Scene 3

Summary: Joel returns to the Tipsy Bison with his mind on one thing only after doing business near the border. Even though he feels out of practice, he somehow manages to get the girl, until she finds the literal gun in his pants.

A week goes by, Indi works another three nights without seeing him again. She thinks about that night more than she’d like to admit. After the initial shock had worn off, she realized how incredibly hot it was for this silver fox to come out of nowhere and stand up for her. Yes, he was a little intense for someone simply bumping into her, but something about those dark eyes and broad shoulders had her pulse fluttering and thighs clenching. 

It was a slower night, and she had just closed out her last tab. It wasn’t even nine yet and the place was looking dead. She leaned on the bar at the service well, helping Jared cut limes. 

“Like is it me? Am I the problem? Is there something on my face that says I like being played by idiots with nice butts?” Jared ranted, slicing a lime in half with much more force than needed.

“Of course not,” Indi said with a small smile, always there for her friend’s dating rants.

“Like I swear, Michael, the last guy I was talking to,” he went on, rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out in disgust, “I swear, his entire goal in life is to be as petty as the Greek gods, this man could not just let things go,” he huffed. 

“Michael was the one with the nose ring, right?” she clarified.

“Yeah, hot piercings, huge dick, no communication skills whatsoever,” he grumbled.

“I think your energy just attracts people wanting to steal it,” she said thoughtfully, “plus you have a nice butt, so that doesn’t help,” she adds, leading both to laugh for a moment. 

“Hey Jared, it’s dead tonight, I’ll keep an eye on the bar, why don’t you head out early?” Tommy offered, coming up to them from the other end.

“Oh hell yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice,” Jared said, immediately perking up, “Is it cool if I hang out here for a bit though? I have food on the way,” he admitted.

“Sure kid, I’ll even pour you a drink while you wait,” Tommy shrugged with that easygoing smile Indi had grown to enjoy. 

He wasn’t here every night, but tried to show up for a bit as often as possible. She’d learned that this is more of a side business for him, his real work being with Joel doing construction or contracting or something. 

“Want a shot, Indi?” Tommy asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

“I’m on the clock though?” she pointed out softly, obviously confused by his offer.

Both Tommy and Jared let out a short laugh, Jared coming around the bar to sling his arm around her and playfully pinch her cheek. She retaliated by elbowing him in the ribs with a small pout.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, a shot or two never hurt no one, plus it’s not like we’re doing much tonight anyways,” Tommy said, smoothly pouring two shots of whiskey and a shot of vodka at Indi’s request, sliding a glass to the two on the other side of the bar.

They tapped their glasses together, each one throwing the shot back with practiced ease. Tommy didn’t miss the slight grimace on her face though after she had swallowed and shook her head. 

The trio looked up simultaneously when they heard someone enter. Indi could feel Jared tense up beside her, his arm still around her as they watched Joel walk over to the same corner table as before, sitting with his back to the wall, eyes on his phone as he sent a text. God, he was gorgeous, ruffled hair, heavy boots, and a light coating of dust on his pants. 

“Ah shit, here comes trouble,” Tommy said, grabbing a glass from the drying rack and pouring a double shot of bourbon, “here Indi, take this over to ‘m, I already know he’ll start his bullshit if I go over there,” he explained, sliding the rocks glass towards her.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she accepted the glass, wrapping a napkin around the bottom.

“He won’t talk shop if he’s got a pretty face distractin’ ‘im,” Tommy explained with a sly wink, turning around before she could argue to check on the few barflies that still remained.

“Good luck, dude,” Jared said with a scoff, removing his arm with a knowing smirk, having heard about Joel’s previous antics from the other waitresses.

She took a deep breath, suddenly nervous to do the one thing she’d been hired to do - bring a drink to someone. Moving slowly across the concrete floor, she approached Joel’s table, setting the glass down between them. He looked up from his phone momentarily, his eyes widening briefly as he realized it was her.

“Hey sugar,” he greeted her coolly, tucking his phone into his pocket, not even bothering to finish the message he was typing, “Appreciate it,” he said, nodding to the drink, but not touching it.

“Do…you want something else?” she asked cautiously, unsure of whether he usually ordered something different. 

Joel’s gaze drifted slowly from the top of her head to her feet. She sported some black thigh high socks with little ribbons just above her knees this time. Paired with the usual black top and pleated black skirt, Joel felt his cock twitch at the sight of her. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. He was glad that the Bison was basically empty, besides the same  few old fucks who practically lived in those bartstools near the TVs. 

“Why don’t you keep me company for a bit? I’m sure Tommy won’t mind. ‘s not like you're busy, right?” he suggested, sitting a little straighter as she blinked at him with those gorgeous wide eyes. 

“I, um…o-okay,” she agreed before her nerves could talk herself out of it. 

That deep voice seasoned with his southern drawl and those mesmerizing dark eyes had her terrified and excited at the same time. Something about the older man looking at her like a hungry predator, a tall, dark-haired, gorgeous predator who she would happily lay herself out for if he wanted to feast on her dripping wet-.

“Darlin? You okay?” he asked, breaking her concentration. 

She realized she had just been standing and staring at him for longer than what was probably necessary. With a short nod and timid smile, she reached for the chair directly across from him. The slight jump of surprise when she was met with resistance had her looking down at the chair, noticing his boot hooked on one of the legs, keeping it in place.

“Why so far away, sweetheart? Gonna have to sit a lil’ closer, got bad hearing in one ear,” he explained easily, stretching his arm to pull out the chair directly to his left. 

“O-okay,” she agreed, moving quickly to take a seat, feeling awkward and exposed under his heated stare. 

Once seated, Joel brought his arm around the back of her chair. She sat straight up, not even touching the backrest, but she could still feel the heat from him radiating against her bare arms. 

“How’s your first week been? Anyone givin’ you any trouble?” he asked, spreading his legs a little wider, leaning back comfortably in his chair, his fingers silently tapping against his still-full glass. 

“It’s good, no trouble at all, actually. I’m liking it here a lot,” she said, turning to check the bar only to find Tommy and Jared watching them, whispering to each other conspiratorially. 

“Don’t mind them,” Joel spoke softly, drawing her attention back to him, “I’m glad they haven’t scared you off yet, would hate to lose a pretty thing like you,” he continued, finally lifting the drink to his lips, speaking the last part around the rim before finishing the content in one swift movement.

“R-really?” she asked softly, her cheeks feeling warm from his words, her body buzzing eagerly as she smiled bashfully.

“Really, really,” he agreed coolly, “Got the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, darlin’,” he added, bringing his hand up to rub the pad of his thumb against her cheek, barely touching her, his eyes focussed on where their skin connected, reveling in the electric vibrations he felt with each graze of her skin.

“You tell that to all your waitresses?” she questioned with a teasing little smirk.

Joel chuckled, closing his eyes with a light shake of his head. His little kitten had some fire in her, a spark of sass barely peeking above the surface just then. It made him want to know more, to see every color of her. Dropping his hand, he brought his arm around the back of her chair again, gripping the side and suddenly pulling her closer to him. The scrape of the wood on the cement floors had the handful of occupants looking their way. He noticed her slight jump afterwards.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said with another low chuckle, leaning closer to her, “This okay?”

“Y-yeah…this is okay,” she agreed, sounding breathless as his scent invaded her senses. 

He couldn’t help himself. Now that she was so close and he could smell her perfume mixed with her natural scent, see the goosebumps along her arm, and heard the little uptake in her breath when he leaned closer. The details were heightened even more than that first night and Joel just couldn’t get enough. 

“And to answer your question, you’re the only waitress I’m tellin’ this to,” he said, admiring the growing tint of pink on her cheeks.

Everything in his body was screaming at him to kiss her, to take her home and ravish her. He wanted to hear every little noise she could make for him, feel the goosebumps on her skin, mark her as his own. His cock was aching in his pants as she batted her lashes, looking up at him so innocently, those pouty lips begging to be kissed raw. 

Joel made the mistake of looking over her shoulder, finding Tommy staring at them. When the brothers' eyes met, Tommy arched his brow in question. Joel had never made a move on any of the waitresses before. Hell, Joel hadn’t made a move in so long, Tommy had just assumed he’d given up on things like that. Jared was also watching closely, holding a to-go box close to his chest, stuffing his face with Thai food as he watched his friend get hit on by the biggest, most dangerous crime lord this side of the Mississippi.

The lack of privacy made Joel suddenly uncomfortable. His mind and body were too aware of their surroundings when less than thirty seconds ago, he was ready to pull Indi against him and kiss her innocence away. He chooses to lean back in his seat instead, his arm still around the back of her chair but still not touching. 

“Tommy said you go to UT, must mean you’re pretty and smart,” he commented.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she scoffed, her blush only growing as she fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her hands.  

Joel followed her gaze, his attention drawn to her tattoo. He could now see all the finer details. It was an intricate piece of crescent moons, line art and stars. Wanting to get her to relax a little, he asked her about it. She told him a little about the design itself and why she got it. He then asked about the one on her shoulder. She turned in her seat, bringing her hair to one side as she showed him the ink on her shoulder blade. 

He could tell she wasn’t the biggest fan of talking about herself by the limited details and questions directing the focus back to him that seemed to follow her answers.

“Want something to drink? On me of course,” he offered after a lull in the conversation, finding any excuse to keep her beside him. 

“I’m technically still working,” she said, that gorgeous smile making it hard for Joel to focus on her words. 

“Well let’s change that, huh?” he suggested with a smirk, getting up from the table, heading right towards Tommy who was restocking the bar, Jared nowhere in sight. 

“Can I have my employee back, now that you’ve got her all flustered and shit?” his brother teased.

“Actually, I was gonna suggest you send ‘er home for the night,” Joel said, glancing over his shoulder to find Indi making her way over to them. 

“Who’s going to close if I send ‘er home?” Tommy questioned with a scowl, but Joel could see the amusement in his eyes. 

“Your bar, you close,” Joel shrugged, “Let her take the night, Tommy, come on,” he insisted with a scowl of his own. 

“Who’s getting sent home?” Indi asked, coming to stand beside Joel, looking so small next to his larger form. 

“Apparently you,” Tommy said with a snicker.

“Joel,” she said, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and exasperation, “you can’t just do  that…”

It was the first time she had actually said his name to him. The syllables on her lips were world-shattering for him, his name never sounding so sweet until she uttered it. He wanted to hear her say his name over and over again. He briefly wondered what she would sound like wrapped in his arms, head thrown back in pleasure…

“Joel…Joel!” Tommy snapped, snapping his fingers in front of his brother’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Joel huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Up to you, darlin’, if you want to stay, I’m closin’ up in the next couple hours anyways, wasting money keeping an empty bar open,” Tommy said to her.

Joel looked down at her, watching her expression as she contemplated the offer. The way she bit her lower lip as she considered her options had him wanting to bite her lip with his own teeth, among other places. 

“I guess I could use a night off,” she said slowly after the long silence.

Without realizing it, Joel felt his shoulders relax just a touch. She looked between the two men, like she wanted to say something else. Joel resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, pull her close, feel her body against his own, offer some sort of comfort. Tommy set two shot glasses down, pouring something clear in one before sliding it over to Indi. He opted for well whiskey in the other, taking it for himself. Joel raised his brow questioningly at his brother. 

“Oh I’m sorry, you want me to pour your drink too, princess?” Tommy asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes with a grin as he set another glass in front of Joel along with his preferred bourbon. 

“You’re cut off, asshole,” Joel huffed, easily pouring a shot for himself, feeling Indi watching their interaction with a little grin. 

“Can’t cut off the boss,” Tommy fired back, raising his glass to the two of them before downing it. 

Indi followed suit, taking her shot like a champ with minimal cringing. Joel couldn’t help but notice how cute her little scrunched up expression was as she swallowed her shot. He tipped back the contents of his own glass with ease, downing it like water, exhaling slowly through his nose as he set his glass down.

“Last I checked, I’m the boss,” he reminded his brother, “Get your stuff, darlin’, I’ll drive you home,” he added to Indi before he could consider how that might come off to her. 

She giggled, seeming less affected by his gruff directness. “Yes, sir,” she said with a playful smile, walking towards the back room to collect her things, her response stoking that fire she’d started in him when he first saw her. 

Once she was out of hearing range, Tommy couldn’t contain his laughter. He continued to snicker even as Joel glared at him. 

“Since when do you drive anyone home besides yourself?” Tommy asked.

“Watch your mouth, baby brother, I’m not in the mood to deal with you tonight,” Joel grumbled, rolling his eyes. 

“What are you even doin’ here, man? I thought you’d head straight home after gettin’ back from the border.”

“Wanted to stop by for a drink,” Joel muttered, looking down at the wooden bartop. 

“I know your liquor cabinet is stocked way better than what we got here, so cut the crap, Joel, just say you wanted t’ see ‘er,” Tommy responded, collecting the glasses and tossing them in the sink. 

“What’s it matter to you?” Joel questioned, feeling his defenses start to rise. 

“She’s a good worker, wouldn’t want to lose her because you don’t know how to ask a girl out,” he shrugged with a chortle. 

“Fuck off,” Joel fired back, ready to say more, but spotted Indi coming towards them with a bag on her shoulder. 

“What’s so funny?” she asked, noticing Tommy’s trembling shoulders as he tried to contain his snickering. 

“Nothin’, let’s go,” Joel said before his brother could open his mouth, bringing an arm around but still not touching her as he guided her towards the front door. 

“Y’all kids be safe now, y’ hear!” Tommy called after them, the echoes of his laughter following them out the door. 

Once they were outside, Joel noticed the only other car in the lot besides his truck was Tommy’s truck. Indi kept close to him as they walked towards his vehicle.

“You walk to work?” Joel asked, unlocking the truck and opening the passenger door for her. 

“Jared gave me a ride, my car’s in the shop right now,” she explained, climbing up into the seat. 

Once they were both buckled in, the truck started with a low rumble, the interior shaking momentarily from the force of the startup. She looked over at him with those eyes, that alluring gaze that suggested more than her innocent demeanor would leave others to believe. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, realizing they’re now completely alone, the dimly lit parking lot casting shadows across them as he looked her over. 

He shifted his body towards, one hand on the steering wheel, his other arm resting on the edge of the center console. In the enclosed space, her scent invaded all his senses, overwhelming his mind. 

“You know, I could hear Tommy from the break room,” she said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap, an coy grin on her face. 

“Oh yeah?” he replied stiffly, feeling his stomach drop at her revelation, fearing Tommy’s big mouth had somehow fucked up any chance he had with getting close to her. 

“Is it true?” she asked, glancing nervously up at him.

“Is what true, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his eyes drawn to her lips as she turned her body towards him, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning slightly on the center console towards him.

“That you came here because…you wanted to, um, see…me?” she asked hesitantly. 

He bit his lip, his eyes drifting down to her own lips, so close and so inviting. Amusement spread across her features as her lips twitched up into a small grin. Joel tried opening his mouth once, twice, three times but nothing came out. He must have looked like a damn fish, completely at a loss of words and floundering painfully. 

“If it was true?” he finally choked out, his body thrumming with nerves.

God he felt so pathetic, fucking fifty years old and stumbling over a girl like a damn teenager. She reached across the console to put her hand just above his denim-covered knee, still a bit dusty from having to shoot a guy in the middle of the desert, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“I’d be very happy if it was true,” she said softly, squeezing his leg lightly.

He huffed out a breath of relief, a nervous laugh breaking the stillness around them. Looking down at her hand on his leg, brought his own hand, much larger and rougher, over hers. She watched as he brought her hand to his lips, the edge of his mustache tickling her knuckles as he pressed his lips to her fingers. She could feel the slight tremble in his hand as he exhaled slowly.

“Joel?” she asked gently, her eyes focussed on where his lips pressed against her skin.

“Yeah, sugar?” he mumbled against her fingers, eyes closing slowly as he inhaled her scent. 

She squeezed his hand, causing him to open his eyes and realize she had inched closer, her face dangerously close to his own, her body now leaning fully over the middle console. He shuddered, feeling his heart start to beat a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of his chest. 

“Will you kiss me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced between his eyes and his mouth.

“Anything you want,” he agreed before closing the space between them, both his hands coming up to hold her face.

The kiss started slow and tender. Joel couldn’t help the satisfied groan when he was able to taste her lips, a hint of vodka mixed with her coconut chapstick. She allowed him to guide her, to lead the kiss and set the pace. The more he tasted, the more he wanted, his mouth beginning to move more fervidly, his tongue tracing her lips before sliding along her own. 

When his hand moved to hold the nape of her neck, she whimpered softly, her own fingers twisted into the material of his shirt. The little noise was enough to set Joel’s desire ablaze, his other hand sliding down her arm to grip her waist. Surprisingly Joel felt much more in control of himself then he expected he would be. He hadn’t kissed someone like this in so long, but his body seemed to know exactly what to do. 

“J-Joel,” she sighed against his mouth, “fuck, Joel,” she moaned, her eyes blissfully shut, head tilted back as his mouth drifted down her jaw to her neck, the scruff of his beard scratching deliciously against her skin. 

“Like how you say m’ name, sweetheart,” he muttered into the crook of her neck, biting lightly which earned a higher pitched moan and her fingers moving to tightly grip the hair at the back of his neck.

He brought his mouth back to hers, hungry for more, more of her taste, more of her sounds, just more of her. No amount of drugs could match the high he was feeling as her nails scratched lightly along the back of his neck and her mouth on his. One of her hands drifted down his chest, her palm tracing down side and up his back. Fuck, he never enjoyed someone touching him so much. 

Just as he was about to give in and pull her over the console into his seat, she tensed. Pulling back, he realized how heavily they were both breathing, one hand holding her jaw, the other on the curve of her hip, his thumb drawing small circles into the material of her shirt, itching to lift it up enough to feel her skin. 

“W-what’s wrong, baby girl?” he asked with half-lidded eyes, feeling how stiff her body suddenly became and how she had let go of his hair.

She was looking at him with wide eyes, almost like she was frozen in place. Joel suddenly realized where her other hand had stopped, at the curve of his lower back, close enough to his belt to graze the 9mm he had forgotten was on him. She leaned away from him, bringing her hands back to herself.

“Joel…is that a gun?”

Scene 3

[pandoras-prada]

Can't Stay Friends

Minors, DO Not Interact

Characters: Neteyam (20) Lo'ak (19) Reader(20)

Warnings: explicit smut, p in v, brief oral (female recieving), brief fingering

Author's Note: This is my first eveinr fiction. let alone smut. I have no clue what im doing. lol Sorry, it seems rushed. Characters are aged up. Can't find the original artist for the pictures. I got them from a tiktok video by nelaok_povs_de_avatar

Edit: Анастасія Кохан is the artist for the neteyam art

You and Neteyam grew up together, though you weren't closest of friends, you were still that. His younger brother Lo'ak was your best friend. You and Lo'ak did everything together. Sometimes Neteyam would follow you both, secretly pining for you, not knowing you had the same feelings.

You and Lo'ak were out in the forest exploring a new part you guys haven't yet explored. It was a beautiful, secluded clearing with a spring surrounded by thick green foliage high in the hallelujah mountains. You sat perched on a large flat boulder with the sun beaming on your beautiful mute blue skin. "Come in y/n, the water feels great!" Lo'ak splashes a big wave of water at you. You squeal with a displeased look thrown in your best friend's direction. "Lo'ak, why are you such a skxawng?" You huff, crossing your arms, looking away from him with a small smirk hinting that you were joking. The sly smirk only earned you another splash. At this point you were only getting annoyed. You roll your eyes at him, chest heaving you speak through clenched teeth. "Lo' I came out here for some peace and relaxation. " You wipe the water from your skin, drying yourself off. Silently you wish you invited Neteyam out here, you bite your lip at the thought of him. You start imagining Neteyam in the spring, skin glistening with water, muscles hard and defined. "Y/n, where did you just go?'' Lo'ak looks at you with raised brows and the corners of his mouth turned up. You snap out of your trans looking at you friend confused. "What?" you quipped. Only making Lo'ak laugh at you. "I said, maybe you should come in the water to relax. You look tense." You look at him blankly " I'm tense because you sloshed cold water at me while I'm sunning." He holds his hands up in defense not wanting to aggravate you any further. He swims the edge of the boulder hugging the edge resting his face on his crossed arms. He looks at you once again smirking "So what were you thinking about?" You turned your head to the sky not wanting to admit to your best friend that you had a thing for his older brother. You just shake your head. "Come on y/n, it's me. You know you can tell me anything." he coaxes you. Suddenly Lo'ak's and your ears perk hearing a twig snap and fall from one of the trees behind you. Your head swivels, eyes scanning the area behind you. You look back to Lo'ak, eyes meeting his and he shrugs. "Sssoooo?" He drags out the word. "Lo' it's nothing." Eyes averting his. "Bullshit." he says blankly, knowing that he is the only one that truly knows you. You sigh "Fine, but you can't repeat this to anybody." You wave a pointed finger at him. He pulls himself from the water sitting beside you looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to go on. "I...I was thinking about Neteyam." His eyebrow quirked "Neteyam, my brother?" asking as if there was another. He looks back at you questioningly. Another sigh falls from your mouth "I can't stop thinking about him. He's just so... Fine!" Lo'ak giggles at you knowing that his brother finds you attractive but keeps it to himself. You scuff slapping his shoulder. "Don't laugh at me! You are supposed to be my friend. I'm supposed to be able to tell you these type of things without you judging me." This time he grins "I'm not judging you." he rubs his shoulder pouting as if you really hurt him. He looks up at the sky as if in thought, seeing the colors change with the approaching eclipse. Suddenly he stands and ruffles your hair. "Come on lover girl we should start heading back before it gets dark." You swat his hands away from your head "That's it? You aren't going to question me or make fun of me?". "Why would I make fun of you? You are my best friend? Anyways Neteyam is a good choice for you." Your eyes narrow on the boy in front of you "What's that supposed to mean?". Shaking his head "Nothing, I just think you both would look good together. Now come on, I'm hungry." You wave a hand at him "You go ahead, I'll see you later. I have some things I need to think about." He wriggles his eyebrows at you "Like my brother?" He laughs as he dodges a slap on the leg. "Later" you yell at his fleeting form. He throws a hand in the air signaling his reply.

You lean back on your hands letting thoughts of Neteyam flood your Mind. You picture him standing in front of you tall. He was a good head taller than you; the top of your head would touch just under his chin. Your thoughts wander from his height to his eyes, golden with green flecks. Picturing his eyes gazing all over your body, eye fucking you with his dangerous glare. Your skin starts to shine with a thin layer of sweet, chest heaving with every thought of him. You slowly ghost a hand over your breast finding your left nipple, rolling it between your fingers. You groan with a tight pinch on the erect nipple. *CRACK* Your head snaps to your right, hearing another twig snapping. This time you grab you bow and load it with an arrow letting it fly in the direction of the sound. "Shit, y/n!" That all too familiar voice echoing in your ears. Did you just shoot HIM? Neteyam comes out from behind the tree that was closest to you. His right hand holding his left bicep. Your eyes widen with horror at the fact that Neteyam may have seen you caressing your breast while thinking about him and that you just shot him. You jump up, dropping your bow, and grab his arm apologizing profusely. He laughs a bit shaking his head "Its ok, You barley grazed me." He lifts his hand showing you the smallest of nicks. It startled him more than anything, knowing he was caught watching you. "What are you doing out here?" you seethe. He looks you in the eyes not wanting to tell you the truth "Lo'ak came back to camp without you, and I was worried that you were out here by yourself." He lies slyly telling himself its technically not a lie. He did follow you to keep an eye on you. The only lie was that he didn't just come out here looking for you. You look deep in his eyes "You were worried about me?" stepping closer to him, fear washing away being replace with a sudden boldness. His eyes dart from yours to your lips. "Of course, I was worried about you, we are friends." You take a step back once the word "friends" left his perfect lips. Now surged with confidence, form hearing yours and Lo'ak's conversation earlier, Neteyam takes a step forward. "I'm sorry y/n." He apologizes the guilt from lying eating at him. Your face scrunching in confusion. "For what?" He grabs his wounded arm once again feeling embarrassed for lying. "I actually followed you and Lo'ak out here earlier today and sat, watching you.I watch you a lot" He smirks to himself "Then I heard you confess how you find me attractive to to my brother" His smirk now a full-blown grin, he rests his hand on your upper arm. You look down at the contact he has made, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes anymore. He moves his hand from your arm to your chin, turning your face up to his. Your cheeks turning a violet as you make eye contact with him. "I'm sorry." you begin to apologize not really knowing what for. He shakes his head. "No need to be sorry. I'm glad I heard what I did. I feel the same way about you.". He leans down softly pressing his lips to yours for one, two, three heartbeats. He reluctantly pulls back to look into your eyes searching for any disapproval. Not seeing any, he starts to lean in again, only this time being met halfway by you, eager for his lips on yours once more.

This time the kiss was more heated. Your arms snaked around his neck, trying to pull him as close as possible, attempting to become one with him. He presses his hard chest against your soft supple breasts, running his hand from your jaw to your hip. Now grabbing both hips, he guides them to press flush against his pelvis. Picking up on his eagerness, you moan into his mouth. He takes advantage of your open mouth, tongue slipping in to caress yours. It twists and twirls deliciously with yours, trying to dominate you. You finally submit letting his tongue dominate yours. He pulls away for air a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. You twirl your fingers in his hair pulling him back. He pecks your lips once more, trailing sweet kisses to your jaw down to your throat. He places sloppy open mouth kisses to the column of your neck searching for your sweet spot. Sucking purple marks into your skin. You moan out when he bites lightly on your neck just below you jaw. His cheeks raise with a smirk knowing he found that sweet spot, that will have you withering in his arms. He bites harder abusing the sensitive area with his teeth. You mewl at his tongue lapping the area he just assaulted causing you immense pleasure. Trying to find some relief to you now throbbing clit, you clamp your thighs together. Your actions don't go unnoticed, much to your pleasure, Neteyam backs you to the tree he emerged from behind just moments ago, shoving his knee between your thighs adding the much-needed pressure. He flexes his thigh muscles still sucking and licking your neck, feeling his muscles tighten, you begin grinding on his thick thigh. Moaning in his ear you throw your head back, eyes shutting and mouth slightly hanging open from the new sensation. He pears up at you, noticing your beauty, his breath hitches. "Damn y/n, you are so beautiful." You lick your lips slowly, enticing him back to you. You press your chest further against his as if that was even possible. He looks down to your chest, rising and falling. He grabs your beaded chest piece and looks up at you, pleading with his eyes. With a simple nod of your head, he wastes no time, snatching your covering from your body and dropping it to the ground. Breast in his view, nipples errect, he bends down taking a hardened bud into his mouth. Treating your nipple in the same way he did your tongue. He Pulls back, your nipple popping out of his mouth with a light pop. He moves his attention to the other nipple.

You whimper as Neteyam removes his knee from between your legs. "Shhh, I got you love." He reassures you as his hand glides from your hip to your lower belly, playing with the top of your loincloth. The tingling feeling getting to you, you buck your hips into his hand. His hand slips under your loincloth running a delicious finger along your fold, finding your cunt already dripping for him. He groans "fuck y/n, how are you so wet already?" You mewl at his words "It's what you do to me." He grabs your hand guiding it to his hardened cock to stroke him through his loincloth. He moans out, his forehead pressed to yours. "That's what you do to me, every time I see you." Rutting his hips into yours he finally dips a finger into you awaiting cunt. Slowly pushing his finger in and out collecting your slick on the way. He thrusts his finger in and out a few more times feeling your slick drip down his finger, he decides you are ready for another. He pushes another finger in you earning him another breathy moan "Neteyam." He smirks "that's right love, moan my name. Whose pretty pussy is this? Hmm." He questions. "Y- yours. It's your pussy, Neteyam." He thrusts his fingers in faster, curling them finding the perfect angle. He palms your aching clit as he pumps in and out of you relentlessly. Your legs begin to shake with your building orgasm. Threatening to snap any minute "Neteyam, I'm close." Licking his lips before he speaks "Cum for me." your pussy clenches around his fingers just from his command. The squelching sounds coming from between your legs making him slowly lose his control. With a final curl of his fingers on your sweet spot, your body lets go of its composure. A shiver up your spine, you ride out your high on his fingers. He pulls his hand from your sopping pussy, seeing his digits covered in your arousal. He brings his hand to his lips, licking every last drop of you from his long nimble fingers. "You taste so good." He nestles against your neck.

He lowers himself to his knees in front of you. His hands find their way behind your lower back, working the knot in your loincloth. The knot finally loosened, your covering falls to the ground, revealing your glistening, swollen folds. He looks into your eyes then back to your pussy. He leans in taking a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds. "Shit you smell good too." Your ears twitching at his words, you moan out feeing his tongue lick a thick long swipe through your folds. "More, please more." He has you begging for him. He places his hand on the back of your thigh, hoisting it over his shoulder for better access. This new position has you wide open for him. He thrust his tongue deep in your already wet core with a speed that has your head spinning. Afraid to fall, you anchor his head to your pussy by his hair. The tight grip on his hair causing him to whimper on your throbbing pearl. Composing himself, he nudges his face back between your lips, tongue darting back to your core in and out. The tip of his nose brushes against aching clit as he eats your pussy with expertise. You push his head further into your needy cunt for more pressure on the bundle of nerves. He Begins to nod his head so his nose would flick your clit. The pressure in your lower stomach building fast already threatening to snap. Neteyam fists his throbbing cock through his loincloth as he feels your pussy flutter around his tongue. "Neteyam, I'm..." You trail off, eyebrows knit together, a strangled moan falls from your open mouth as you squirt all over Neteyam's mouth. He gulped loudly at your release. Hips lazily bucking against his face as your high diminishes, you look down at him pulling away from your body "Are you ok?" he questions. Your eyes widen at the sight of your cum dripping off his chin, down his neck, pooling in the dip of his collarbones. With a shaky voice you pipe up "I'm more than ok." You pull your leg off his shoulder and lower to your knees with him.

Kissing him deeply, you replace his hand on his cock with his. Slowly rubbing, giving his cock the attention, it needed. He skillfully untied the laces to his loincloth pulling it from his body. Cock finally free it slaps his muscled stomach leaving a sting of precum from his abdomen to his swollen, sensitive head. You whimper at the sight of his length, not realizing how big he might actually be. He pushes your shoulder down until your back meets the soft moss of the ground. "Neteyam, I need you." you whisper in his ear, licking it as you pull back looking into his eyes. Now all control gone, he's ready to give you what he's wanted to give you since he saw you sunbathing on the boulder. Hands find your thighs, pressing them wide open. He takes in the sight of you under him, ready for 'Him'. Wasting no more time ha grabs his cock, jerking it a few times to make sure he is good and hard for you. Propping up on your elbows you watch the veins on his cock pulsate, and twitch with need. You grab his cock and guide him to your waiting hole. You watch his curved cock sink into you, feeling every inch of him stretch you so good. He bottoms out, balls pressed firm to your ass, eyes screwed shut, afraid to move, his seed already threatening to spill from the feeling of your soft gummy walls squeezing him. "Nete, you have to move." you try coaching him moving your hips slowly. He grabs your hips, stilling them, hands so tight on you, surely leaving bruises where they rest. "Give me a moment." Voice ragged with pleasure, he talks himself up, compelling himself to move. His hips finally rocking back and forth, long, slow pumps in and out of you. Needing more, you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him in hard and fast when he only just pulled out of you. "Shit, yes just like that, 'teyam." you groan. Understanding you need more he pulls out, snapping his hips hard into yours. Pulling both of your legs over his shoulders, crouching over you he pistons in and out of you. Knowing he won't last long like this he finds you clit, rubbing tight, hard circles on it, trying to edge you further than him. Balls slapping against your ass, combined with the friction inside you, you scream his name over and over again. Refusing to let up he grinds his pelvis into your adding to the pleasure. Your body begins jerking from the stimulation, reaching your third release of the night, letting it spray over his cock and thighs... Your breast bounce from the sheer force of Neteyam fucking you. He rests his head on one of them as he feels his high quickly approaching. "You're taking me so well. This pussy sucking me in like it's her job." You blush at him calling your cunt 'her'. "Nete, you fill me up so good." he nods on your chest, thrusts becoming sloppy with no rhythm. "Where do you want it? I'm close." he grunts. "My chest" you reply seductively biting your lip. A few more pumps he pulls out of your aching cunt to release his hot, sticky seed all over your breasts. Collapsing on top of you spent from his high, not caring about his seed between the two of you. Both exhausted from the events that just perspired, you just lay there catching your breath.

Finally gaining the strength to roll off of you, he looks over making eye contact, cheeks high from his smile. "We can't stay friends." he confesses. You smirk relishing in the fact that the man you've been crushing on for years, has the same feelings as you. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

I've made. S o m a n y. Attempts at analyzing Vox's relationship with the fuckin Angel & Val bullshit. So many. But they always come out sounding like fucking word salad. So instead, I'm going to try making a bulleted list of all the different pieces of evidence I've gathered, and then simply not draw a conclusion because I don't fUCKING KNOW-

Vox does not like Angel

Vox seemed excited at the prospect of Angel quitting(despite knowing he physically can't?)

Like his eyes *literally* lit up he was so excited(the same way Velvette's did when she was yelling about wrist ruffles & Carmilla's did during Whatever It Takes)

Saying "Angel quit?" could've been him joking, but between his expression, tone of voice, and the context surrounding the line, I don't think that's the case?

That line is weird as fuck man...

There are two reasons Vox doesn't like Angel: Val constantly freaking the fuck out over minor Angel-related things & he's probably jelous of how much space Angel takes up in Val's brain

Vox does not seem to care for Angel's well being, probably viewing him as nothing more then a cash cow

I say "seem" and "probably" because it IS significantly more likely that Vox doesn't give a shit, but we haven't seen Angel & Vox interacting one on one yet, so there's still a chance I could be wrong and Vox does care in some capacity? Again significantly more likely he doesn't I'm just trying to cover all my bases here

Which speaking of- we don't know how Angel feels about Vox at all? Like aside from Vox's cameo in Poison(Angel's pseudo-dream sequence), we don't actually get Angel's perspective on Vox. Ever.

Like I'd assume Angel doesn't LIKE him just by virtue of his relationship with Val but there's no real way to tell?

Vox(seemingly) hasn't done anything to deal with Val's weird issues with Angel

He probably can't get rid of Angel entirely because of the loss in profits

But he also hasn't attempted to limit Angel's ability to leave the studio or anything, and he hasn't done anything to Val that might discourage his irrational behavior

He's actually pretty hands off when it comes to all of the other Vees' shit just like. In general. The only time we see him interfering is when Val is destroying Velvette's stuff

Vox doesn't seem to give a shit that Angel moved out of the studio

Like he isn't even happy about it just true neutrality-

He only STARTS caring when Val starts threatening to shoot up a building about it(read: when his image is now on the line)

The look Vox gives Angel in Poison just kind of proves he. Doesn't like Angel. And is kissing(but appearently not dating???) Valentino.

The fact that the blood drips, which are usually on the left side of his mouth, are coming off of the right instead during this scene FEELS important but that's another topic entirely so I won't go into it here

Also, as stated before, Poison is a pseudo-dream sequence, so this scene might be less about how Vox views Angel and more about how Angel views Vox

But if that's the case, I cannot for the life of me decipher what the fuck Angel feels about Vox from this one shot so it's pretty much useless for now 💀💀💀

Alright that's it. I tried my best to be impartial and just write down what we know about the characters while also pointing out any gaps in information we might have, but if you think I'm being too generous or too harsh with any of these bullets and feel the need to tell me, PLEASE be nice about it and also use tone indicators. I don't wanna sound like a whiney baby or whatever the fuck but I genuinely cannot handle feeling like a stranger is yelling at me rn and tone indicators help me a LOT in that department.

[thefandomenchantress]

A new Disventure Camp episode came out today!! I figured now would be a good time to list some of my thoughts. Not only on this episode in particular, but also on Hunter's whole situation.

I mostly liked Ashley this episode, which is good since it was her last, but there's this one point in the episode that bothered me a lot, that being how she blows up at Jake and Ally for not getting along...And then just immediately forgives Jake the next scene when he gets sad?

I don't care if they make up, that's not what I'm getting at, but I really wish Jake would've apologized and said something like: "I'm sorry, Ashley, you're always so supportive and I just keep messing things up. I--I should've blown up at Ally like that-" and then have Ashley forgive him. As it is, I got some severe whiplash by how it seemed like Ashley was having a falling out with Jake and Ally, genuinely being mad at them, only for that to just be forgotten a few minutes later. I understand that Ashley is a forgiving person, but it seems too extreme even for her to just forgive him without him doing anything but complain about Tom being close. That's just what I think, though.

I really liked the rest of the episode, besides that small nitpick. I was worried I wouldn't like Gabby as much if she became evil and a legitimate threat, since I liked her more cartoony demeanor. Luckily, my worry was misplaced, because Gabby is just as silly as ever, even if she is trying to be evil. She literally said she was going to make a costume with a cape and mask to be evil in like she's a Scooby-doo villain or something, I love her so much. Then again, Yul did say she was a "Tumblr girl" so maybe it makes sense that I like her haha. While Gabby is a threat now, the writers don't try to make you take her super seriously, which I appreciated. Non-serious villains are always my favorites.

Sadly, I got Ashley's elimination partially spoiled for me (someone replied to a comment I made on the YouTube trailer for the episode, saying something along the lines of, 'yeah she goes home :)' to someone else in the replies who speculated she would. The downside of your comment becoming popular I guess). But I still liked it and genuinely considered that the person might've been lying when the elimination ceremony started. That was a pretty good subversion of expectations, I really thought Aiden was a goner.

I've never been a big fan of Jake, and while I'm not desperate for him to go home...I'm kind of over him, if I'm being honest. I know he's supposed to be flawed and partially unlikeable, but personally I just can't deal with all his bullshit, it stresses me out. I've never been too invested in TomJake, so all that nonsense this season hasn't been too fun for me, I'll be honest. I understand why people like it, but it's just not for me, I suppose. At this point I'm thankful James got out early, so that at least there's no drama between him and Aiden (yet). Most of the relationships this season are going downhill, haha. Except for Ally and Tess (please bring the polycule back I miss it it's one of the only polycule representations I've ever seen in media PLEASE--).

(Now starting the Hunter section. if you don't want to hear my insane ramblings about him, turn back.)

...I don't know when I'm going to make another post about Disventure Camp so I'm gonna vent about Hunter here, too. He was technically mentioned this episode, so it's totally relevant that I talk about him, right? Right.

Hunter was my favorite in season 2. I honestly don't know why, since he's pretty bland all things considered. Usually, I like the zany characters. I think it was him repeatedly failing to befriend Tess that pulled me in, since I can never resist a...Boyfailure? I think that's the internet term for it.

But this season I was just...NOT into his characterization. And as far as I've seen, I'm in the minority with that opinion, since I've seen a lot of people say they like him more now. The main line of reasoning I've seen is, "He was boring in season 2, and I liked him better in All-Stars because they gave him flaws."

And...I don't agree. I'm fine with them 3-dimentionaliszing his character, I agree that he was pretty flat before in terms of characterization. Actually, I'd love if they gave him some flaws! What if they highlight how bad he is at making connections/alliances with anyone other than Ally and Tess? They kind of do this by making Fiore be on his team and showing how his strategy of "win challenges to stay in the game" completely falls apart when he can't win challenges. And I thought that was all fine and good.

The thing I don't like is how they decided one of his main flaws should be being a not-good boyfriend. Which just doesn't feel right to me? His whole thing in season two was offering emotional support to Ally and Tess, and now they spin it so that he isn't paying proper attention to Ally or what she says, not grabbing her Switch, not listening to her when she talks about her games, etc.. I'm fine with Ally and Hunter having relationship troubles, but...I don't know, I guess I'm just a little mad they took his compassion away. He just seems a lot angrier and more mean-spirited this go around. He's not fun to watch. I think I have a good example to prove what I mean.

In the Secret-revealing episode of season 2, one of Ally's secrets is that she yelled at a group of children until they cried because they were using cheats in a game she was playing, and her excuse for doing so is that she was stressed. The writers bashing Ally aside, Hunter says something like, "Do you always yell at children when you're stressed?" in response, showing that even though he hasn't met those children who were doing something wrong, he doesn't think lashing out at them was okay.

...Meanwhile season 3 Hunter is yelling and lashing out at Fiore, a child, the whole time he's in the game. I know it's not exactly the same, Fiore is a bit of a demon-child, and Hunter was, ironically, stressed, but still. He seems so much more competitive and not as nice as he used to be. Being chill used to be his default, but now it's a sort of aggressiveness that just doesn't mesh with the original Hunter in my mind.

...I recently read that something happened behind the scenes that helped create this change in characterization, but as someone who wasn't aware of that when the first episodes aired and became upset when he was changed, I really would've liked to at least have an in-universe explanation instead of this just happening. Because until I read that information, I thought they changed him just because they thought the audience didn't like him much in season two. In short, I thought it was a needless retcon and became upset when there was no explanation for the change. If the behind-the-scenes stuff was a big enough deal that they wanted to change him like this without in-universe explanation...I might've preferred them just not using him at all. Then again, the season's not over. So I guess it's a little unfair of me to assume anything yet.

Anyways, that's all just my opinion. Feel free to share your thoughts or tell me why you think I'm being too dramatic about Hunter, haha. I feel like I'm one of very few season-two-Hunter enjoyers, so I'm not expecting that to be a super popular take. I'm just mopey that he changed, I guess.

[hpysprkl]

Kiki's Art Commissions

Commisions are: OPEN

Who and What I Draw

Your Fallout OCs and fave companions. All Fallout, all the time. I've played every Fallout in existence (except that Tactics/BoS bullshit) and I love them all - yes, even 76.

Interested in non-Fallout art? Doesn't hurt to ask!

Looking for more examples of my work? Here's my tag.

Prices (USD)

More details on terms, what I will and won't draw, what I need from you, etc below the cut.

Payment is currently only available through PayPal. I'm looking into other payment options, such as Ko-Fi.

What I need from you

your faceclaim(s). If they're not someone I can easily google, I will need a few clear photos from different angles. Don't have a faceclaim for your OC yet? This is a great place to start looking

in-game screenshots are sometimes useful, so include those as well if they look anything like your OC. I will always prefer real human reference though, so please give me a faceclaim!

basic details: height, build, age, hair color/texture/style, eye color, identifying marks, etc etc etc. For companions, give me your headcanons on any details not provided in-game (or if you headcanon something differently), or I'll use my own if you don't have any

what outfit(s) they wear. If it's vanilla/Creation Club/Atomic Shop, just the in-game outfit names will usually do (i'll tell you if I need more)

any personality traits, background info, or quirks you want to share are absolutely GREAT and help me breathe a little more life into a character

if I'm drawing them with a companion, tell me a little about their dynamic

Will draw:

your Fallout OCs

their companion(s) (including ghouls)

weapons

some blood/gore/injury

sfw romantic content

Difficult areas:

curly hair - I'm trying, I'm learning, but it's harder and might take me longer

Super Mutants - haven't tried yet, but it can't be that hard

artistic nudity/pinups: I'm really out of practice, I make no guarantees

Won't draw:

anything racist/queerphobic/transphobic/bigoted/etc

minors

backgrounds. There's a reason this is a serparate, specialized job in animation and comic studios

nsfw romantic/sexual content (I don't have a problem with it, it's just way outside my wheelhouse. I'm learning.)

excessive blood/gore/injury (again, outside my wheelhouse)

creatures (same reason)

IMPORTANT STUFF

What you get

high-resolution digital art (A4/8x12" at 200dpi for busts, minimum of 12x12" at 200dpi for half body and up) suitable for printing for personal use only

If you'd like me to crop you an isolated closeup of a character for use as a profile pic, I'm happy to do so at no extra charge

my work always includes my signature watermark; you may not remove or modify it

you're not required to credit me if you share it on social media, but of course I very much appreciate it if you do, and a link back to my tumblr along with it will earn you my undying love and gratitude

What you DON'T get

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copyright/intellectual property rights. It's still my original artwork. As such, I am free to modify and distribute it in any way I see fit, including for profit.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Second Time Around

Summary: After a brutal assault by one of your co-workers, you choose to turn your experience into a positive, eventually becoming an ambassador for other victims, and in turn, an unintentional household name. However the good Captain America doesn’t seem to take to your newfound fame very well.

Characters: Dark/Mean!Steve Rogers x Ex!Shield!Reader.

Words: 3K.

Warnings: non-con, mentions of previous sexual assault, mentions of previous date rape/drugging, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, size kink. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Been working on this for far too long and finally managed to finish it. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support your content creators by sharing our work.

Your prideful smile is reflected in the face of everyone in the audience. The crowds acceptance is contagious and you can’t smile wide enough.  

Another successful seminar completed. With every one you host around the state, your happiness grows, knowing that your words are having an impact. Your message is spreading like wildfire, but instead of burning everything in its path, empowerment blooms instead.  

The sound of applause is loud in your ears— thunderous and overwhelming, yet you find yourself not wanting to run from it. It brings you to tears, joyful ones that you have trouble holding back until you feel your assistant’s hand on the small of your back. 

“I have someone in your dressing room requesting a moment of your time,” she mutters softly into your ear.

You turn a little, trying to keep the smile on your face from dropping. You’re deeply grateful for every single person who shows up to these events, and you do your best to meet with as many of them as you can, but as you're booked for another talk that starts in less than an hour and two towns over, your time is stretched thin.

“I can’t, Allison,” you tell her gently. “We have to leave in ten minutes.” 

The other woman glances at her watch awkwardly before looking back at you, unease pulling at her features.

“Please pass on my apologies, but-” you begin, but Allison quickly interrupts.

“I’m sorry, but they told me they have to meet with you, and they won’t take no for an answer.” 

The message riles you up, instantly setting your nerves on edge. Isn’t that what these talks are about, setting boundaries, saying no? If whoever this person is knows the reason for you being in Brooklyn perhaps they should have chosen a better time and location for an impromptu meeting. Yet you find yourself, reluctantly, agreeing, just to keep the peace

-

You walk the short distance to your dressing room, determination and a shred of annoyance propelling you towards your mystery guest. You feel guilty for being irritated and you don’t understand why. Allison hurries along behind you, quickly answering your questions as you fire them at her over her shoulder. 

Did they give you a name?

Did they tell you what they want?

She tells you very little, unable to give you the answers you seek. All you know as you approach the door is that a man stands on the other side, waiting for you, his intention unclear. 

For a brief moment, you’re afraid it’s the damn movie producers again— determined to break you, whittle down your resolve into agreeing to turn your experience into a dramatization with very little fact. Something to twist the narrative and essentially make you the villain.

Bidding Allison your thanks at the door, you enter slowly, peeking around it. Your eyes land on a Herculean-sized figure— all broad shoulders and rippling muscles— and suddenly all of your previous fears rush from you like a waterfall. You know this figure, even from behind. 

“Steve?” Your voice is intentionally quiet because even though you’re sure it’s him, there’s still a part of you that questions your memory. 

He spins on the spot, lips split into a giant smile as he takes you in like you’re the first person of the opposite sex he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he replies with a heavy sigh. He steps towards you, arms outstretched as he envelopes you in a tight hug. It’s hard but warm. Comforting in a way you had forgotten exists. His smell reminds you of the past, but instead of allowing it to trigger unwanted memories, you inhale deeply— telling yourself that you’re better than being a victim, what happened to you doesn’t define who you are.

It’s what you preach to your audiences day in day out. 

Don’t let yourself become a victim.

“You’re a hard woman to pin down,” he smiles wide.

“Sure am now that I’m no longer stuck behind a desk,” you return with a little jest.

He gives you another of his best All American grins. All white and perfectly straight teeth. “I still walk past it daily. It’s not the same without you there.” 

You return his smile with ease, unsure of how to respond. Instead, you turn out, “What can I do for you?”

Steve shrugs. “Ah, well I thought that seeing as you’re in my hometown, we could go out for dinner? Haven’t seen you in a long time.” 

“Can’t say I wanna stay here longer than I’m needed to these days.” The reason lingers in the room, unspoken. Not since it happened. Steve flashes you a sympathetic look and that inexplicable sense of guilt returns. “But one dinner with the Captain can’t hurt.”

-

Hours pass by in a blur of decadent food and conversation. You’re ready to head back to the hotel when you leave the restaurant, but Steve doesn’t want to end the night so soon, insisting you join him back at his apartment for one last drink. Neither of you know how long it will be before you cross paths again and though he probably doesn’t mean to, he makes you feel a little guilty that it’s been so long. 

The kindness in his eyes stops you from saying no. 

You barely check your phone all night— too caught up in conversation and recounting lost memories, until Steve excuses himself to go to the bathroom. During the time alone, you find yourself mindlessly checking it while you wait for him to come back. Your screen is flooded with notifications— the usual messages from Allison, “just checking in x,” along with tweets and mentions praising your seminar.

But one particular tweet, “Cap looks absolutely ready to murder someone,” catches your eye, and before you know it, you’re clicking the link, your curiosity piqued, wondering what on Earth it can be about. 

Though he often neutralizes bad guys, he’s rarely called a murderer. Steve and murder don’t go into the same sentence often, if ever.

You stare down at the video that begins to play— catching sight of yourself talking animatedly on stage, your hands flying around in all directions. Your hair looks a little neater and the flowing dress you’re still wearing is a little less creased than it is now after a whole day rushing around Brooklyn. 

“There are times when I do miss working at S.H.I.E.L.D, yes,” you listen to yourself admit through the speakers of your phone. “If only for the friendships I made and unfortunately lost. But I know now that that wasn’t where I was meant to be, so I guess I should be thanking him.” Your scoffs bring you back to the moment, and you finally look up, realising Steve has returned to sit beside you.

The audience on the video laughs, but there’s an awkwardness to it. Like they shouldn’t find your experience funny, but because you’re making it so, they feel like they have permission to do the same. Giving Steve a cursory glance, you don’t miss the way his face drops at your poor joke and immediately you feel guilty. 

Guilty? For trying to make light of your past? Trying not to let it represent you? 

You swallow hard. You’ve skirted around the issue all evening, not wanting to dampen the fun you’ve been having. It feels ridiculous when you think about it— being so reluctant to bring up your experience with him when you find it so easy to be candid with strangers in regards to it. 

Maybe it’s because of that very reason. They’re strangers. They didn’t witness you leave with the man who assaulted you. They didn’t help to get him arrested and convicted for his crime. 

Steve did. Steve is closer to the harsh details of that night than anyone— apart from you. And your rapist. 

Another question quickly pulls your attention back down to the screen.

“You’d really do that?” 

“I get to see more of the world than I did before, so,” you watch yourself shrug as someone else pipes up. 

“If you came face to face with your attacker now, what would you say to him?” 

The video pans to the back of the room— a quick blur of color as it passes by the audience, and focuses on Steve standing by the door. You almost recoil in shock at the sight of him, not realising he had been there at the time. Still watching, you look at on-screen Steve as he stares down at the floor, listening to you speak.

It surprises even you how quickly you don’t hesitate. “I hated you for so long, but now I just pity you for being such a coward.”

Steve’s eyes flicker up at that moment, his jaw taut in fury. 

The clip ends and you look towards him, eyes inexplicably full of tears. 

“You look so angry,” you observe quietly. 

“I was,” he pauses, seemingly like he’s trying to calm himself down. “I loathe being called a coward,” he finally says. His tone seems off suddenly. Like he’s annoyed somehow at you.

“Pardon?” Your brow furrows in confusion, the uncomfortable silence lingers for a moment, baffled by Steve’s change in attitude. He’s not making any sense. Nor does he elaborate.

“Your parents must be so proud of you,” he adds tersely. 

It’s a strange statement. One that immediately sends a wave of ice through your body. You take another sip of your drink, licking a drop from your lip, and they tingle as if going numb. You haven’t drunk that much. 

“Yes, I suppose they are,” you affirm, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “In a roundabout sort of way.” 

“Strange thing to be proud of,” he smirks, huffing out a puff of air through his nose. “Their little girl famous just for getting her legs spread.”

You stare at Steve, the words swirling around in your brain, not making any sense. Maybe you have had too much to drink. But did he just- 

“Ex-excuse me?” you manage to stutter out.

“C’mon, you did look pretty slutty for a work party,” he says, rising to his feet. “That tiny little dress you were wearing was practically inviting us all to fuck you.”

You sit aghast, too revulsed to move from your seat. 

“No wonder we thought you wanted it. Especially when you let Mike take you home.” Steve shakes his head. 

“I- didn’t,” you try to defend. 

He tuts in disgust. “I saw it, sweetheart. Saw him climb into that cab with you. Saw how much you were all over him.”

“N-no, that’s not true.”

“But of course, when you realised that he would tell everyone what a little whore you are, you just had to cry rape, didn’t you?” 

Tears flow freely down your cheeks as you protest, “Wh-why are you saying this?”

He slowly moves closer, bending over in front of you until his face is inches from yours. “Because it’s the truth.” 

You shake your head furiously. Your head fuzzy with the turn of events. “It-it’s not.”

“You believed what I told you,” he says, matter of fact. “You were unconscious, how do you really know that it was Mike that fucked you?”

The fact he uses the term fucked instead of raped makes your stomach roll with nausea. Fucked would imply you had given consent. 

“But you-you saw us,” you stumble out. 

Steve laughs bemused, like this is all a joke to him. “Mike did take you home that night, he did put you to bed, but he didn’t fuck you.” 

There it is again. Fuck. Not rape. 

You think you’re going to be sick as one solitary question crosses your mind. If Mike didn’t attack you, then who did? Another thought hurriedly strays past, replacing the first. What if Steve is covering for the real person responsible? 

He straightens up, hand reaching out to cup your jaw. With gentle coercion, he lifts your chin, smiling down at you when you finally make eye contact. His usual warm sapphire gaze is cold. Hard like ice. 

“Y’know, you should be grateful. I’m the one who made you famous.”

The revelation hits you like a freight train and everything suddenly seems to make sense. 

He doesn’t need to say it out loud. 

He’s not covering for anybody but himself. 

Abject horror fills you at the frightening realization that there’s an innocent man rotting in prison because of Steve. Mike did nothing except make sure you got home safe, and Steve took advantage of that opportunity to frame him for his own heinous crime. The perfect crime.

You’re frozen in place, too afraid to move as he smears his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“All those rousing speeches you make, all those uplifting messages for your fans, and you’ve got nothing for me, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you manage to spit out with venom. 

Steve’s demeanour sours in an instant. His smile drops into a foul grimace, full of contempt and hatred. His hold on your chin tightens and tightens until you can feel the bones in your jaw protesting beneath the weight of his grip. Just this action alone is enough to make you realise that with one small twitch of his hand, he can easily break you.

His breath is hot on your cheek as he leans down, hissing in your face, “You should be fuckin’ thankin’ me.” 

He snaps, grabbing you around the waist and hoists you off the chair in one fluid motion. You kick and hit out as he lifts you into the air, dumping you onto his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.  

You scream and yell, but Steve makes no attempt to silence you as he carries you into his bedroom. He throws you down onto the bed, quickly covering your body with his as you continue to hit him, but they just bounce off his biceps and chest without even so much as a flinch. 

“Stop, please,” you beg when he roughly pushes up your dress. The plea falls on deaf ears, Steve already working open his pants as he tears your underwear in two. 

He stares between your spread legs as he lines himself up to your opening— his cockhead hot and sticky against your pussy lips. Steve’s eyes flicker to you, watching your mouth drop open and your eyes squeeze shut as he sinks into you, the sheer girth of him punching all the air from your lungs. He doesn’t fit past the first inch. 

“C’mon, let me in,” he breathes above you, stroking his thumb over your clit. A whine escapes from your throat and he manages another inch— just. 

“It’s a shame you don’t remember anything from before. My fault, I guess, gave you too much ketamine,” Steve shrugs nonchalantly. “But I spent hours worshiping you,” he softly adds. “Eating out your delicious cunt, making you come all over my tongue.”

He pulls out, and you let go of the breath you don’t realise you’ve been holding in. He shimmies down the bed, face level with your pussy and looks up at you once more. His tongue darts out just as you lift your leg to knee him in the head, but Steve’s faster. He licks up your sex and all of your motor functions cease to work. Your leg falls to the bed useless, and he curls his arms around your thighs, pinning you in place. 

Steve gets to work, licking and kissing his way up and down your sex while you lay beneath him— body reacting to every precise touch as your mind revolts at the sensation. He slides in a finger, then two— both perfectly crooked inside you as his tongue flicks over your clit and you’re coming whether you like it or not. 

You’re still trembling when he climbs up, smoothing his cock through your soaked lips. Steve doesn’t miss the way your entire body jolts when he rubs it across your clit, and he grins down at you with a smile that used to make you feel safe. 

Now it just terrifies you. 

“See, your body remembers me, even if you don’t,” he cajoles, teasing his cock against the entrance to your cunt. “And I think she’s wet enough that I can just slide straight in.” 

Steve drives his hips forward. He pops inside you with no resistance, easing into you inch by inch until you can feel him heavy and swollen in your gut. 

Your back arches, and your hips cant towards him, forcing him deeper. 

“That’s it,” he praises, wrapping his hands around your hips to keep you impaled on his cock. “Look at you takin’ me nice and deep.”

He pulls out slowly, but he’s even slower sliding back inside you. His eyes don’t leave yours, watching the way your face contorts and shifts as he fills you up.

“I didn’t get to enjoy this look of pleasure on your face last time, now at least I get to savour it.”

He starts to fuck you— rapidly building to a pace that has you sinking into the mattress with each deep thrust. It’s not meant to be pleasurable, but the pain slowly fizzles away until all you can feel is heat.

The coil in your gut tightens— aching, straining to snap and you try to block out the sensation. It does nothing and you come around Steve like you actually want it, body jolting and tensing as ripples of ecstasy possess you.

You try to block out his staccato praise and heavy moans, but the more you attempt to focus elsewhere— the less you’re able. The sounds Steve makes, the touches of his fingers on your skin, the feel of his cock brutalizing you— it’s a horrible, pornographic concoction that you can’t escape and the inevitable sobs come.

Tears run into your hairline and pool in your ears as Steve claims you over and over— one deep, guttural thrust at a time. Disgust hurriedly replaces the dull pleasure still swirling in your gut, violation thick as all you can do is take everything he gives you.

You recovered from the trauma before, able to move on, evolve into the person you are now. Stronger for your experience. But as you stare up into the eyes of your true nightmare, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to overcome it a second time.

***

CE: @buckymydarlingangel @broadwaybabe18 @captain-asguard @chamberofsloths @cevansgurl @dreamlessinparis @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @hurricanerin @kellhems @ladybug05 @mugi-chwan95 @navybrat817 @otomefromtheheart @oneoftheprettynerds @patzammit @rebel-stardust @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @sammykb1994 @syrenavenger @saiyanprincessswanie @sunwardsss @selfsun @threeminutesoflife @vicmc624 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wintasssoldier @xoxonotme

4EVS: @amirra88 @andreasworlsboring101 @b3autyfuldisast3r @cheesyclaire @chibijusstuff @callsignrambam @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @doozywoozy @foxyjwls007 @geekofmanyforms @heyyouwiththeassbutt @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @ilovefanfic86 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @letsby @letsdisneythings @labella420 @mogaruke @maliburenee @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @obsessivelycapricious @patrick-hockslutter @princessmisery666 @phildunphyisadilf @sage-writing @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @smokeandnailz @stoneyggirl @stoneyggirl2 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @thegirlnextdoorssister @unfortunate-brat @wayward-dreamer @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox

[e-dubbc11]

Songbird Pt. 3

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (18+PLEASE) no minors or I’m telling on you, Oral (M! receiving), P in V sex, stalking.

Word Count: 4.7k-ish

Summary: Part 3 of 4. After explaining what happened to your ex boyfriend, Billy wants to tell you something that he normally keeps a secret. The two of you go out on a dinner date only to come home to an unpleasant surprise.

Part 1

Part 2

A/N: I’m very much in love with this series, even though it doesn’t appear others feel the same way. But it’s a good thing I don’t write for other people. For everyone who is enjoying this series, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, commenting and reblogging. I really appreciate it. ❤️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

He hadn’t even tried to kiss you, not once. The soft kiss against your forehead was the only kiss he had given you, and his long slender fingers gently swept a stray piece of hair away from your eyes, while the two of you sat on the stairs in silence trying to figure out what to say to each other next.

He could have fed you a bunch of bullshit lines for the past few weeks while getting to know you better but his actions were completely out of character from what you had observed since you had moved into the building.

Was that all because of you?

Billy was the one who broke the silence. “I, uh, have something for you.”

You knew what it was already but you acted surprised anyway.

“Oh? What is it?” You asked.

He rose to his feet, held out his hand for you to take and helped you stand up. “They’re inside, would you like to come in? Have a drink? I have GOOD bourbon.” He joked.

You let out a little laugh. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’d love to.”

Billy took your hand, your fingers laced with his as he led you inside his apartment. You knew it had to be beautiful but you didn’t know just how beautiful it actually was until you saw it with your own eyes. It looked like pages from a furniture catalog, everything was neat and tidy.

“Wow…it really is beautiful in here. You want me to take my shoes off?” You asked.

A sly smile stretched across his face. “If you don’t mind.” He said.

You started to unzip your boots when he stopped you and started to laugh.

“I’m just kidding, y/n. Go have a seat, you like your bourbon with a little ice?” He asked.

“Three ice cubes…please.” You said.

The dark brown leather of the couch felt cool against your fingers as you looked around. The place looked like it hadn’t really been lived in. Everything still looked brand new like he didn’t really spend a lot of time at home.

You could tell he was a workaholic, just by looking at him. And that made you feel a little sad for him. Home was a place you come to, to relax and unwind after a long day but it just looked like he came home to do more work.

It was supposed to be cozy and lived in, yet he had probably never eaten a meal at his dining room table.

Billy came back with two glasses of bourbon, handed one to you and rested the other on the coffee table in front of you before walking away again. He was holding the books you had left in the store when he came back and set them down next to you.

Your heart was beating right out of your chest, your hand holding the glass of bourbon started to shake slightly, he really didn’t have to do that.

“You forgot these.” He said with a sly smile and wink.

Trying to fight the tears that welled up in your eyes, you said “Billy, you didn’t have to do this.”

He took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid floated back and forth against the sides of the glass before he set it down again.

“I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to.” He said, as he inched closer to you and you not minding that he did.

He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, the scent was intoxicating and he was looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

His onyx colored eyes raked over you like he was committing how you looked at that moment to his memory. It caused you to draw in a sharp breath.

“I really don’t know what to say, Billy. T-thank you for these.” You choked out.

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “Y/n, I know you have shared a lot with me and you told me something tonight that was obviously very difficult to talk about, so I want to share something personal with you. You deserve an explanation.” He said.

You interrupted him.

“Billy, you really don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

He picked up his drink again and took another sip. “But I want to. I bet telling me about Corey made you feel a little better, didn’t it. I bet it made you feel less alone, right?”

You nodded.

“Well maybe I don’t wanna feel alone anymore either.” He said with a hitch in his voice and pressed his lips firmly together.

You reached for his hand and held it tightly while he told you about his mother. She had abandoned him when he was a small child, left him at a fire station and never came back which forced him to grow up in the foster care system.

He said he felt alone, unwanted, and discarded like a piece of garbage, which shattered your heart. How could a mother do that to her own child? And not protect him at a time when he needed it the most, no child deserved that.

When he was finally finished, his eyes glistened with unshed tears and he turned away from you hoping you wouldn’t see them. It was difficult to find the words to say to him.

You guessed Billy must still feel like that broken little boy that no one loved and that’s why he never let anyone get close, that’s why he didn’t have relationships, and why he did nothing but play the field because no one could love him anyway.

But that wasn’t true…anymore.

Slowly over the past few weeks, your feelings for Billy had been growing. It was hard to admit that to yourself, at first. But the truth is, for the first time in a long time, you felt cared for and protected.

Billy wanted to know more about you, he gave you very thoughtful gifts that actually meant something and he just enjoyed being with you and you enjoyed being with him. He hadn’t shown his playboy persona since that first night at the club and that was weeks ago.

“I don’t share my life with anyone. I have my work and not much else because that’s how I like it and that’s how I’ve always liked it.” He said. “But I…care about you, y/n. I care about you a lot but it scares me.”

“Why does it scare you, Billy?” You asked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before looking at you again.

“Because aside from my marine buddies, you are the longest relationship I’ve ever had and we’re not even IN a relationship! I don’t even know how to be in one.” He stated sharply.

“Well, I think you’re doing an ok job so far.” You said with a smile.

He looked at you with a confused look on his face. “What?”

You reached up and brushed his beard with your thumb, locked your eyes with his, and leaned in close. Delightful sparks were running along your spine as you softly touched your lips to his, and pulled away.

Unsure of what you had just done, you said “I’m sorry, Billy. I shouldn’t have—“

He cut you off as his lips crushed against yours, his hands cupped your cheeks as his kisses became insistent, and you felt a rush of helplessness in your body that left you limp in his arms. You knew this was the only place you wanted to be as his tongue parted your trembling lips.

Pulling you into his lap, you could taste the bourbon on his tongue as his gentle hands brushed the hollow of your neck. His lips were soft and warm against yours, entangling his hands in your hair, nipping the skin on your jaw and down your throat.

You choked on your need for him as your mouths slid together and his tongue swept your lower lip. His name broke free from your lips in a low whisper into his ear.

“Billy.” You gasped, feeling the brush of his eyelashes against your cheek.

“Yes, sweet girl?” Billy said, peppering kisses across your forehead.

“You know I care about you too.” You said, gently scratching his scalp with your fingernails.

Billy wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, his fingers skipped up and down your spine causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“This is all new to me. So you’re saying, having you followed and eavesdropping is NOT ok, right?” He joked.

You smiled and leaned forward to kiss him again. “Typically, that’s not ok Billy.” You chuckled.

“Roger that.” He said with a nod. “Ok, so I need to tell you something else.”

With a concerned look on your face, you asked. “Oh? What is it?”

“I’m starving, you wanna go get some dinner?” He asked.

“Chinese?” You suggested.

A wide smile stretched across his face, like a Cheshire cat. “You read my mind, beautiful.”

**********

After dinner, walking hand in hand with Billy back to the apartment building, you had never felt more at ease. It was comfortable, relaxed…and fun. He really was funny and matched your sarcastic comments with some of his own.

Anyone that could banter back and forth with you with quick wit and make you smile and laugh was your person. You had more in common with Billy than you thought you did and you helped each other. It was easy, like it’s supposed to be.

You don’t think he let go of your hand the entire night except while you were eating. He loved to hold your hand and gently brush your knuckles with his thumb.

To feel the light touch of his fingers on the small of your back as he ushered you through every door you walked through sent a surge through your body that you haven’t felt in a very long time. Like Billy, you were content being alone but you really missed having someone to make you smile as much as he did.

You were falling for him.

The night manager of your building stopped you before you and Billy got to the elevators. He had a letter addressed to you. “A man came by for you tonight, Miss Y/l/n. He asked if I could give this to you.” He handed you the envelope. “He seemed a little upset that I wouldn’t let him upstairs to let him drop it off to you himself. And he had on a hat and kept his head down so I really didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Oh…ok well thank you, Bob.” You said in a nervous tone. “Did he say anything else?”

Bob shrugged and said “Not really Miss, he just said to make sure you got that letter and that he was a big fan.”

Big fan? He must have been to the club to listen to you sing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could seeing Billy narrowing his and he tightened his grip on your hand as you thanked Bob again and the two of you headed for the elevators.

As the elevator doors closed, Billy caged you into a corner as you slipped the envelope into your purse. You could tell he had wanted to have his lips all over you as soon as you left the restaurant and he covered your mouth with his own.

His kisses were passionate, firm, and the ache between your thighs grew with every kiss he placed on your neck. Your body molded perfectly against his as the bristles of his beard tickled your neck and your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours once again.

You giggled as his beard tickled your neck again. “So, this is how you thank me for dinner? I didn’t say you had to put out, Russo.”

He pulled away from you, laughing as he did it. “The only reason you got to pay for dinner is because you stole the check while I was in the restroom, you little sneak!”

The heat radiating off of his chest was intense and it was already warm inside the elevator as he held you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Well, you snooze, you lose, lieutenant. I don’t know what to tell ya.” You said softly, leaning against his chest.

Smiling down at you, he took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and said. “You’re such a cheater.”

“I know.” You said with a gentle laugh.

Cutting through the brief silence, Billy asked you “So…are you gonna open that letter?”

Humming into his chest, you said “Hmmmm, not right now. I’m busy with you. Maybe tomorrow, it’s late.”

“Ok, sweet girl.” He said and didn’t push it any further.

Billy dropped you off at your door and after many, many long kisses goodnight, he finally made his way back to his apartment.

It was hard to contain the smile on your face. You didn’t stop smiling from the time you arrived home, taking your shower, and making your tea. When you poured the water from the kettle into your mug, you glanced over at the envelope sticking out of the top of your purse.

As you waited for your tea to cool down, you took the letter out of the envelope and began to read. The words written across the page caused your heart to jump into your throat and your hand began to shake while holding the paper.

Billy

You could still feel her soft lips pressed against yours. Her warm skin stippled with goosebumps every time you touched her and when you closed your eyes, you saw her smile and heard her laugh. Everything about her was enchanting.

Thinking about how she stole the check right out from under your nose made you laugh. Had it been any of the women you usually go out with, the check would have sat there until you got back and they would have acted like they didn’t even see it. But not your little songbird, she was unlike any woman you’ve ever known. Yes, she was beautiful but she was also shy, humble, funny, and had the biggest heart.

No woman had offered to buy you dinner before or even cook you dinner, for that matter. And you’ve never even thought about telling anyone about your childhood before her.

At dinner, she mentioned she and the band had been practicing another new song they’ve never performed before. And she said that she chose it specifically for you but she wouldn’t say what song it was, that you would have to find out at one of her upcoming shows which you couldn’t wait for.

Your last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of her and as you laid there in the gathering darkness, you wondered what was in that envelope but you knew she would tell you. Maybe not tonight but she would.

The sound of your phone vibrating woke you. Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, you focused on the screen showing you her name and picture. You had managed to take her picture during one of her performances without her noticing, she looked perfect.

“Hey beautiful. What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You asked.

She sounded scared. “Billy? I woke you didn’t I…shit, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do—“

You cut her off. “Y/n…what is it? Tell me.”

The silence before she spoke again was excruciating.

“That—that letter.” She said.

She didn’t need to say anything else.

“I’m coming down there now.” You told her and hung up.

The elevator seemed to move in slow motion and it took forever to even get down to her floor. When you finally made it to her apartment, you gently tapped on the door.

“Baby, it’s me. Open the door.” You said quietly.

She removed the chain and unlocked the door quickly and leaped into your arms as soon as she opened the door. She buried her face into the crook of your neck, her warm tears touched the skin where your neck met your shoulder and when she pulled away she apologized for getting your t-shirt wet.

“Oh Billy, I’m sorry…I got your shirt wet.” She sobbed.

You squeezed her tightly against your body and as you lightly stroked her hair, told her “Ssshhh, it’s ok. I’m here now. Where’s the letter, lemme see it.”

She pointed over at the kitchen counter and there it was sitting next to a mug of untouched tea.

It took me awhile but I finally figured out where you live…did you enjoy your date with that pretty boy from your building?...two dates in one day is pretty impressive…I could treat you better than he ever could…you’ll see very soon…I’ll write again.

Sitting at her kitchen counter, you read those particular lines at least three times. This person knew where she lived, he knew about you, and had been watching the two of you while on your date earlier tonight and at the coffee shop this afternoon.

The blood in your veins burned like wildfire at the thought of anyone hurting her or upsetting her but you couldn’t help but think that this was all your fault. She gave attention to her admirers during her performances but not outside of that. She left it all at the club, except for you. And now she was in danger because of it.

“Y/n, have you noticed anyone from the audience acting weird when you’re up there singing?” You asked.

She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Sometimes it’s hard to see through the lights, Billy but no, I haven’t really noticed anything out of the ordinary.” She said.

“Well number one, we’re taking this letter to the cops tomorrow. Number two, you are going to have someone with you at all times, if it’s not me…it will be one of my people. And number three, you’re not going to stay here by yourself. I want—I want you to stay with me.” Those last words shocked her but they also shocked you.

“Billy, I don’t wanna disrupt your life or get in the way. You have your life, your home, and I don’t wanna put you out like that. I can stay here. What if someone just stands outside?” She asked.

You violently shook your head “no.” “Absolutely not, this is my fault—I”

She interrupted you. “Your fault? This isn’t your fault, Billy.”

“This guy is angry with you because of me, because we’re—together?” You asked nervously.

She smiled at you. “Are we together, Billy?” She asked.

Without another word, you left the letter sitting on counter and walked over to her sitting on the couch. She looked up at you through her long dark lashes, nervously biting down on her lower lip as you pulled her up to standing and kissed her.

“Well that was nice, but I asked you a question Billy.” She said with a cunning smile, like she knew the answer but wanted you to say it. “I know you have a hard time with expressing yourself with words but I really need to hear it. Please?”

You closed your eyes and inhaled sharply. “Well…if you’ll have me. Like I said, I don’t know how to do this. But I do know that I want you…and only you, my beautiful songbird. And I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” You said, as you cupped her face and stared into her eyes.

You meant every word but you definitely weren’t used to saying how you felt about anyone. Until now, you had no interest in a relationship with any woman. She had a lot of patience which was required to be able to deal with someone like yourself.

Pulling her tight against your chest, the two of you stood there holding each other before she said. “You look really cute in your sweatpants.” And she started to laugh which made you laugh.

“We’re talking about a stalker, I’m trying to be serious and you’re talking about my sweatpants. What am I gonna do with you?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight, Billy. Will—y-you stay with me? Please?” Her tone turned back to serious and she seemed scared.

“Just try and stop me, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere tonight, I promise.”

You

Bright sunlight spilled into your bedroom window through a crack in the curtains the next morning. The unforgiving glare of the sun danced across the high points of your face as you felt the bristles of Billy’s beard gently scratch your bare shoulder.

He pressed his lips to your warm skin, his long arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you remembered lying in bed with him last night. Resting your head on top of his chest, you closed your eyes and listened to his heart beating with only the dim city lights below your window coming inside.

He caressed your hand with his and smiled against your hair as you talked late into the night, only stopping so he could kiss you periodically.

Billy had told you earlier in the night that he wanted you and only you. You began to feel the desire between your legs grow more intense. From the way he answered your late night phone call, to rushing down to be with you when you needed him and telling you he would never let anything happen to you.

You wanted to show him just how much he meant to you.

Rolling over in bed, you placed one knee on either side of him, eased down to kiss him insistently and gently bit down on his lower lip.

Shocked with your actions at first, he tried to stop you in between kisses. “Baby…I can’t believe I’m actually saying this but what are you doing?”

His hardening length pressing against your most sensitive area.

He sat up and cupped your face as he returned your kisses. “I don’t wanna take advantage of you, sweet girl. This isn’t why I wanted to stay with you tonight.” Said Billy.

Holding the hem of his t-shirt in between your fingers, you inched closer to press your forehead against his. “I know it’s not, Billy. But I want this…I want you.”

Pressing yourself harder down into his lap, a low moan escaped his lips and he kissed you…hard. With a hushed growl against your mouth, Billy let you remain in control. You could feel how hard he was for you as you pulled his t-shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor.

His talented fingers extended under your sleep shirt and touched the warm skin of your lower back brushing the waistband of your panties causing shivers to run down your spine. His lips pulled back revealing clenched teeth as you continued to grind down onto his crotch and his cock aching to get out from his pants.

You peppered kisses from his chest, down his torso to the top of his waistband and in one motion eased his pants down his legs to remove them. He went rigid under your touch, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue running along the underside causing him to draw in a sharp breath followed by a guttural moan.

Clawing your shirt off and leaving you in nothing except your panties, he pulled you off of him to tell you “Baby, that feels so good but I won’t last long if you keep that up. Come up here.” He hissed.

Sitting up long enough for him to ease your panties off, you sank down onto him with ease. You were so wet, you didn’t even wait for him to stretch you out before you started to rock back and forth…slowly, allowing him to go deeper and sending sharp tingles throughout your entire body.

Your passion spun tighter and tighter inside you, and you clung to him like your life depended on it as your climax started building. His short quick thrusts were hitting the spot that quickly sent you over the edge.

Riding out one orgasm, his name fled from your lips over and over again as he pulled another one out of you, causing your vision to go white.

“That’s it, baby…shit!” He yelled.

He spilled into you, gripping your sides tightly as you tugged gently on his raven colored hair to kiss him again, his lips parting so he could entangle your tongue with his before collapsing into each other.

“So since you paid for dinner, you get to be on top?” He joked, breathing heavily.

His joke took you by surprise so you let out a loud laugh. “You’re damn right I do.” You joked back.

“Well, if you don’t let me pay for dinner next time, I’m not puttin’ out.” He said in a sarcastic tone.

“Alright, alright…you don’t have to use fightin’ words, soldier. At ease.” You were laughing now. “Goodnight, Billy.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” He replied.

That memory from last night still fresh in your mind as you felt him squeeze your hand under the sheet before popping out of bed like a jack in the box.

He was definitely a morning person.

“Come on…let’s go take that letter to the police.” He said.

Sounding a little deflated, you replied. “But Billy, he doesn’t actually threaten you or me in it. I just feel like it’s going to be a waste of time.”

And you were right, it was a waste of time. They kept the letter and opened a file for it but you didn’t leave the station feeling any better than before but you did feel safe because Billy was with you.

The only time he let you out of his sight was when you were at work, but he had someone outside of your building waiting for you anytime you needed to leave. No one could get into your building without an ID badge so he felt good about leaving you during the day.

Billy checked on you multiple times during the day before meeting you at home at the end of the work day. He made sure that no one was allowed past the front desk if they asked for you or him and aside from the initial letter, it had actually been pretty quiet for the past few weeks.

And with the exception of your new temporary living situation, your life went on as normal. Every time you brought up that maybe it was just an isolated incident and it was over, he would remind you that the letter said he would write again. So he still wanted you to stay with him until it was over.

You still performed at the club with Billy never very far away from you. He even brought his best friend Frank and his wife Maria to one of your shows. Singing relaxed you, it helped wash away the stress you had been feeling for the past few weeks but you could tell Billy was on edge.

He couldn’t even enjoy himself watching you at the club because he was too distracted by anyone who walked by, anyone that approached the stage or even just sitting in the audience, he always had his work face on.

You had gotten used to waking up in Billy’s arms every morning. His penthouse seemed less cold and empty since you started staying with him, it was lived in, and it was…home.

The two of you actually ate meals together at the dining room table, used the kitchen for cooking instead of just for coffee, and he sat in the stairwell with you while you practiced.

He said it was to keep you company but you knew it was to watch over you which is why he always brought his gun. You didn’t mind though, and he actually brought you to ANVIL to practice because he needed to know that you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn’t around.

After weeks of living your life as normal as possible without incident, Billy came home and found you sitting at the dining room table, eyes shining with tears that hadn’t quite spilled over yet.

And you were holding another letter.

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

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If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.