#oh look! another nameless character!

[sunderwight]

Thinking about a crack SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a horse.

Luckily he is not a normal horse, no! He is a spiritual stallion, a character that was mainly a joke about the novel's genre in PIDW, originally bred on Cang Qiong's beast tamer peak but not actually encountered until Luo Binghe's "raze cultivation society to the ground" phase. At which point there was a subplot about him finding the stallion and letting it loose to run free, as like, an allegorical reference. Occasionally Binghe would find other horses across the years that were obviously descended from that one, as more jokes, until Airplane forgot about the reference and never brought it up again.

Shen Yuan, of course, was always Big Mad that Binghe never got to actually ride this super magical mystical horse, and never got the horsegirl arc he deserved! Where is the man's companion animal? How can someone with nine billion wives and even more nameless underlings be fated for a life of perpetual loneliness??

Naturally, the first thing Shen Yuan does upon figuring out that he's this magic horse is break out of the beast peak and make for Qing Jing. He's not necessarily planning to go bond with the protagonist or anything, but he's not particularly keen to live out his fate as some feral horse that fucks other horses either, and he's extremely valuable so it's unlikely anyone will kill him even if they catch him again. So, might as well take the opportunity to clap eyes on his favorite character before he's doomed to a life of eating hay and whatever, right?

Horse SY manages to arrive on Qing Jing Peak right before the start of the skinner mission, though, just as Ming Fan is telling Luo Binghe that there aren't enough horses. Ning Yingying points out SY and is all oh look, one of the stable hands must have realized the error and brought another, and everyone else is kind of like "uh that is... not a normal horse...?" but then Shen Qingqiu gets impatient and snaps at them to get a move on, and fear of their mercurial shizun overrides everything else to the point where Binghe just clambers desperately onto this mystical saddle-free horse.

Airplane borrowed kelpies for his demon beasts at some point and they are pretty common, so it occurs to Luo Binghe only after he's climbed onto the strange and definitely not normal Horse SY that he might be on the verge of getting carried off and drowned. But SY just kind of rolls with it, and falls into line with the other horses.

Hey, it's an excuse to leave the sect! And practice doing horse stuff! And also, he's not going to buck Luo Binghe off of his back!

Of course as it happens, the specific kind of magical horse that Shen Yuan is comes with a specially bred-for trait where they only bond to one rider. They're usually bred for like, kings and emperors and other highly important figures as status symbols, like magical companion animals but ones with perfectly mundane utilities. He's also got Shadowfax-like stamina and speed, meaning that Airplane can treat this kind of horse as interchangeable with a motorbike, and of course the capacity to cultivate. Which means that when the party finally arrives at their destination, everyone suddenly realizes that Luo Binghe has unwittingly bonded with a horse that's worth a fortune and won't ever let anyone else ride it now.

Shen Qingqiu flips his shit, Shen Yuan bites Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe hyperventilates, Ning Yingying gets kidnapped, and the situation basically resolves with Shen Yuan kicking the shit out of the skinner demon in defense of his new BFF the baby protagonist.

Well if he's going to end up letting anyone ride him for the rest of his life, Luo Binghe would be his first choice.

Anyway they get back and Shen Qingqiu is still spitting mad and offers Luo Binghe's head on a platter to the lord of the beast peak, but Beast Peak's people are actually kind of pleased. Like sure it's a little inconvenient, because Luo Binghe is a Qing Jing disciple and not one of theirs, but they were honestly beginning to worry that this stallion wouldn't bond with anyone! It's really hard to manage them when they don't! And SY in particular comes from a long and illustrious lineage that has nearly died out a few times, so they were never planning to sell him off even for a high price anyway. With a rider chosen, the odds of them getting him to cooperate for breeding purposes are a lot higher, plus it will be much easier to take care of him now! Though they will be taking Shen Qingqiu up on his offer of Luo Binghe's time, since "punishment" for this transgression will involve splitting his time between the peaks in order to help take care of SY (all the beast peak disciples are super relieved, apparently before Shen Yuan transmigrated, the horsey original goods was extremely prone to biting and kicking...)

Shen Qingqiu basically tells Luo Binghe not to bother coming back, which fills Binghe with despair, but he gets over it eventually. The beast peak is nice! They give him a cultivation manual as well, in order to help him understand what they do, and it seems that Binghe can understand it a lot better than his QJP one. The peak lord gives him permission to use the dorms as well, since there will probably be times when he has to stay overnight, and no one says much about it when Binghe basically moves in full time. On the books he's still a Qing Jing disciple, but functionally he's a transfer student now. He even sits in on classes and lectures, and a lot of the peak are just under the impression that he was transferred over to their peak in full.

Shen Yuan considers this a big improvement, and expects Luo Binghe to enjoy running around with all the pretty girls on the peak. But Binghe mostly seems to spend his time with him, in fact, asking questions upon questions not only about Shen Yuan's breed, but about his specific background and lineage. The beast peak is overall pretty nice, although sadly it's not full of cool monsters and companion animals as Shen Yuan would have hoped. Mostly the peak specializes in the cultivation world's equivalent of livestock and work animals, training beasts like spirit eagles and horses like himself, and raising animals prized for their meat, organs, bones, or other parts for medicinal, alchemical, or culinary ingredients, or sometimes components for weapons or other spiritual tools. They work the most closely with Qian Cao, Wan Jian, and An Ding.

Being a horse is honestly kind of boring for Shen Yuan, although running is fun, and he at least gets plenty of time to work on his cultivation.

By the time Sha Hualing's invasion happens, he's gotten pretty comfortable in his new state of affairs. Binghe has even figured out that he likes being read to, and has started reading aloud to him from various texts in the evenings! So far no good novels, or even bad trashy novels, but it's better than nothing!

Binghe also takes him for a lot of rides around the peaks (not Qing Jing) which is how they end up caught on Qiong Ding when the rainbow bridge goes down. When Shen Qingqiu tells Luo Binghe to fight, Binghe doesn't even have a weapon at hand.

Actually, he doesn't have a sword at hand.

Turns out having your magical horse kick a demon to death is still pretty effective!

Shen Yuan even manages to avoid getting poisoned too. Rather, Elder Hammer threatens to poison him and Luo Binghe charges at him shouting "stay away from my horse! I'll kill you!" and etc, and does get nicked by the thorns, but only Binghe and Shen Yuan notice and of course the poison doesn't work on Binghe, congrats for unlocking a new hint as to Luo Binghe's mysterious origins!

Yes, Horse SY shows up to help Binghe in the Dream Demon event. He still looks like a horse for it, but it also marks the first time he's able to speak to Luo Binghe, which successfully distracts Luo Binghe from a lot of the tormenting visions of his past because talking magic horse friend has a way of doing that.

So the Dream Demon is like, that's not a normal horse, and Luo Binghe is all "stay away from my horse! I'll kill you!" and Shen Yuan gets knocked out of the dream as usual. Wakes up to Luo Binghe rushing to his stall to check on him and prepare him some nice warm congee and double-check that he can't talk for reals (only in dreams for now, alas).

Anyway Luo Binghe has no reason to hide his demonic cultivation practice from his horse, so Shen Yuan gets to sit in on it as Binghe tries to put Meng Mo's teachings into practice, which he finds super cool. Binghe's normal cultivation also progresses quite a bit, but he's still very much disadvantaged there because the beat peak is only giving him like, half-assed guest disciple status lessons, no personal one-and-one tutelage, and he's unofficially banned from Qing Jing and wouldn't get any help there anyway (apart from Ning Yingying). The beast peak lord isn't really his shizun and Shen Qingqiu isn't going to take Binghe to do things like claim a sword from Wan Jian, either.

Luckily, Binghe can now confer with his horse in his dreams! Shen Yuan has such helpful ideas as compelling various hall masters and combat teachers to dream about their lessons, so that Binghe can insert himself into the form of their students and supplement his tutelage with nighttime training from all around the sect. And also stealing some blank documents from An Ding and forging paperwork to turn over to Wan Jian to make it look like Binghe has permission to claim a spiritual sword without Shen Qingqiu's approval.

What a way to pass the time before the Immortal Alliance Conference!

Horse Shen Yuan would like very much to just carry Luo Binghe away in the opposite direction, thank you, but he does have a system and it is still holding a metaphorical gun to his head about this. Still, there's no force in the world that could keep Shen Yuan in his stable when shit starts to go down, or that could stop him from kicking the snot out of Shen Qingqiu when he tries to throw Binghe into the Abyss. (Binghe's thoughts on the fight: "stay away from my horse! I'll kill you!")

However, Binghe does still get thrown down, and Horse SY runs off whilst weeping crystalline tears of dismay as his mane whips in the wind, imagining a future where a blackened Luo Binghe returns for his revenge arc and symbolically sends his beloved horsie companion away forever to go frolic or some shit, which Shen Yuan is not interested in!

But what can he do? By the time Binghe gets out of the Abyss, his need for a horse will be decidedly minimal. It already went down a bunch when he finally got Zheng Yang (that Binghe somehow almost never flew anywhere on, surely for reasons unrelated to his bond with SY), and with Xin Mo and all his OP talents, even if he did keep Shen Yuan, wouldn't he become as much of a useless background character as countless auxiliary wives in his harem?

No! He won't stand for it! There has to be a way for him to convince even blackened Binghe that Shen Yuan is still the best ride in town!

Luckily, Shen Yuan knows where there are some power-ups that might be able to help him. While he won't touch anything that would be vital for the protagonist, he's more flexible on screwing over random future harem members or side characters, especially when it wouldn't even really harm them all that much. So while Binghe is going through his gauntlet of horrors in the Abyss, Shen Yuan embarks on his own level-up quest to dramatically increase his cultivation, and become more capable of keeping up with Binghe.

When this leads to Shen Yuan being able to take on a human form, he gets really excited, but that's mostly for personal comfort reasons. He can finally hold books again! And talk to people! Who cares if he looks like someone's ponysona gijinka, he can walk over to a stall and order meat buns!

Unicorn form is next, and it's... meh? Mostly it's a boost in his cultivation. The horn looks fun but doesn't really do much.

When he upgrades to being able to take on a pegasus form, now that's really cool. He can fly now! Not only is it crazy good fun, but it also increases his mobility exponentially. Surely riding a flying horse would be more comfortable than balancing on a sword, too?

But that's not enough for his actual goal, he needs to keep going until he finally finds the right bullshit mythical item that will do what he hopes:

Turn him into a dragon!

Unfortunately said bullshit item is in the demon realms, which are a fairly difficult place to navigate as either a horse or a human. Beefing up for the trip takes Shen Yuan just about two years, and requires all of his other upgrades. But he does it, he gets to the demon realms, eats the creatively named Dragon Fruit Plant, and... gets... stuck???

In his new dragon form???

WTF this didn't happen to the random ox that Luo Binghe fed the fruit to in order to create a suitable beast of burden to impress the husband of Wife No.666! Although, thinking about it, maybe it did because it wasn't like the ox ever turned back into an ox afterwards. But Shen Yuan just figured that was because it was a simple beast of burden and saw becoming a dragon as an overall upgrade, why go back? He honestly hadn't really thought about it!

Cue Luo Binghe getting out of the Abyss only to shortly find that a random dragon is following him around. Maybe that just happens here? It doesn't attack him, at least, and he has no time to deal with it (or to sleep) because his first order of business is establishing enough of a foothold in the demon realms to regain access to the human ones, and find out what happened to his horse. And then kill Shen Qingqiu. In that order.

[itgetsdark-x]

He Who Hides In the Shadows

Summary: You loved Tommy Miller, of course you did; he was the perfect gentleman. He was kind, he was generous and he was easy on the eyes. It’s just… he wasn’t Joel Miller. Loosely based on the idea from a lovely anon ask (here).

Warnings: 18+, MDNI plssss!! Public sex, age gap (unspecified but Joel would be mid forties, reader in twenties), unprotected p in v (do better & wrap it), mild degrading, use of ‘daddy’, breeding kink (ish), mentions of voyeurism, cheating, dark!Joel themes.

Characters: Joel Miller x (f) reader, mentions of Tommy Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Life in Jackson was good, well, as good as life could be given the state of the world; it almost had a familiar sense of old times and a safeness you had craved for years. 

You first stumbled into the gates of Jackson around fourteen months ago, you had been shot in the thigh by a raider and had managed to stumble your way to safety; everyone was hesitant to allow you through and into their safe haven, and you understood it. 

The citizens were kind enough to tend to your wounds, dress them and feed you; you ate properly for the first time in months. You looked at your surroundings, the warm interior of the communal canteen as a kind woman explained the ways of living in Jackson. 

That’s where you saw him for the first time… he was tall, broad and so rugged; he had brown hair with soft white hairs peppered through the gentle locks and he had the most intense brown eyes, they were dark and so much pain swam in them that it made you want to reach out and hold him. He locked eyes with you and you felt as if your surroundings blurred together, all you could focus on was this nameless man. 

“Joel Miller.” The lady sat opposite of you announced. “He’s… a troubled man, older brother of Tommy Miller.” She informed you with a soft smile. 

“Oh, I, I wasn’t staring.” You mumbled as you shovelled food into your mouth quickly, returning your gaze back to your plate of food. 

“It’s okay, hon, a lot of women tend to stare at the Miller brothers. Just human nature, some things never change, even during the apocalypse.” She laughed. 

You made a small noise, it sounded alien to you and then you realised it was a laugh; it wasn’t a noise you had made in years. 

“Anyway, I’ve got you a small one bedroom house on one of the quieter streets; it’s been unoccupied for a few years but should be fine, the water runs hot and there’s electricity too. I’m on the next street over so please feel free to come over and spend some time with me and Jacob, my husband. My name is Lara.” She pushed another plate of food over to you and you looked up at her with thankful eyes. 

“This place is fucking amazing.” You cursed, tucking into the next lot of food. “I mean, sorry. Thank you, y’all have been so nice to me already.” 

“I understand, we are definitely blessed in this community.” She smiled, watching you eat up the food before you. “Anyway, hon, I should get going. I’ve got a shift to work in the kitchen, ready for the evening rush. If you need anything at all, you come and find me. Don’t worry about helping out just yet, you heal up and get yourself right.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, the gesture felt foreign, you had spent so many months alone that you couldn’t even recognise what it felt like to feel a small glimmer of hope and joy. 

Lara left you in peace, she squeezed your shoulder before she walked off. You looked around at your surroundings once again, Joel was no longer stood in his previous place but instead he was sat at a table opposite yours, next to him was another handsome male. You could notice the similarities between the two of them but this younger male was much softer in appearance, his features weren’t hardened by pain and roughness. 

The younger of the Miller men caught your gaze, he smirked at you, noticing your blushing cheeks and within seconds he was closing the distance between you both. 

“Well aren’t you pretty, not seen you around here before. I’m Tommy Miller, pleasure to meet you.” He said softly, outstretching his hand to shake yours. 

You shook his hand and introduced yourself by your name.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you around here, darlin’.” He said before tipping his hat and going back to sit with his brother. 

The rest, they say, is history. Your relationship with Tommy had been a whirlwind, you kept finding reasons to bump into the younger Miller and eventually, he got the hint and asked you out on a date. You and Tommy had been together for about a year now and it felt like a dream. 

You were in a domesticated bliss, you lived with him in his house that he shared with Joel but you didn’t have much involvement with the older Miller male. He kept his distance and things between you always felt icy; you understood why, he had been through so much loss in his life and Tommy assured you he was the same with everyone, which was somewhat true. 

-

You were stood in the kitchen, washing dishes from the day before, humming to yourself when you heard the door click open from the front of the house. You assumed it was Tommy, back home after his shift patrolling. 

“Hi honey, I’m just doing dishes. I was thinking maybe we could spend a little time together before Joel gets home; I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating, this is gonna be our month. I can feel it.” You giggled, wiping your hands on a dish towel as you walked through the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks when you were greeted with the sight of a sweaty Joel. 

He looked at you with a raised brow before he kicked his boots off.

“Well, there’s an offer.” He laughed dryly, his lustful eyes drinking in your body. 

You pulled your arms around yourself awkwardly and cleared your throat. 

“I obviously thought you were Tommy.” You huffed.

“Obviously.” He smirked. “‘M gonna go take a shower and head out for the evening anyway.” He shrugged and with that, he stomped up the creaking staircase to the bathroom. 

You rolled your eyes as Joel disappeared upstairs. You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for a few months now, you knew it was relatively soon into your relationship but when the world made no sense anymore, this made perfect sense to you both. You loved him so much and he loved you just the same, it made sense that you wanted to create your own little bundle of joy to share your love with.  

You finished up the dishes and wandered upstairs to lie down for a while and wait for Tommy to return home. You passed by the unoccupied bathroom and found yourself standing outside of Joel’s bedroom, you lingered by it for a second; you were unsure what you were waiting for but you couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from the spot. 

His door was cracked open and something inside of you told you to look in. You sucked in a deep breath and your hands shook by your sides as you watched on. Joel’s back was turned to you, he was naked and although you couldn’t see his front, you knew what he was doing; his shoulder jerked rhythmically and you could hear his soft grunts as his arm sped up. You swallowed down the gasp you were holding in, you knew you should turn away and leave him in peace but you couldn’t help but continue to stare on. 

Your heartbeat threatened to burst right out of your chest, you could feel your blood thrumming through your veins as adrenaline coursed through every inch of you.

Joel grunted softly as he fucked his fist, he knew he was close to cumming and he tried to stay quiet but he couldn’t. He groaned out and then it happened, your name came rumbling out of his mouth like a forbidden curse. 

You went to walk away but the floorboards beneath your feet betrayed you, a loud creak erupted the silence and you stood there like a deer in headlights, your eyes were panicked and wide. Joel turned to face the door; his chest was heaving and you could see him now, his hard cock glistening with beads of precum as his fist held the base. Your mouth fell agape, wrapped around his member was a pair of your panties; it was evident to see, there was no mistaking the stolen garment belonged to you. 

Joel smirked at you, his cock jumped with arousal and he continued to stroke himself, only this time, his eyes were locked with yours as you gently nudged the door open a little more. He pumped himself roughly and brought a single finger up to his lips to shush you from speaking before he grunted loudly and spilled his hot seed all over your stolen panties. 

You were ripped from your trance when you heard the front door unlock once again, and you knew for sure this time that it was your boyfriend returning home. 

You walked away, your cheeks were burning and you felt ashamed. Why? Why did you feel ashamed? Joel was the one who stole your underwear and used it as ammunition to jerk off. It was confusing to you, Joel always seemed so distant with you, so cold and you just assumed he hated you, like he hated most people. 

“Hi baby!” You smiled, greeting your boyfriend at the door. 

“Hi honey.” He smiled back, he went down to undo his boots but you were on him in a flash. 

You pressed his body against the front door roughly and pressed your lips to his to capture him in a deep kiss, your hands snuck under his shirt and started to peel the layer of clothing off of him. 

“Hm, what’s got into you?” He chuckled lowly, lifting his arms so you could take his top layers off. 

“Ovulating,” you mumbled against his lips, deepening the kiss again as your fingers lightly scratched down his torso. “And you drive me crazy, need you.” You whispered. 

You wrapped your hand around his wrist and lead him to your bedroom without further distractions. That night, as Tommy made love to you, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the older Miller brother and what you had seen. 

—

That eventful day was three weeks ago, since that moment you had noticed the tension between you and Joel had become so thick and unbearable that anytime you shared a space with the male, you struggled to suck in a breath. You felt guilty for having watched him, you felt even guiltier that it made your panties wetter than they had ever gotten with Tommy and that night, you orgasmed to the thought of Joel. 

You knew you should have been disgusted and you should have ratted the older male out to his brother but anytime you tried to bring it up, the words died slowly in your mouth and never escaped. You pushed those thoughts deep down and swore to never mention it, you didn’t want to upset Tommy. 

Instead, you avoided Joel like the plague, anytime he was coming back from patrols or a shift, you would find any reason possible to leave the room and make yourself busy. Tommy hadn’t really noticed it, you disguised your discomfort well; you would leave to make dinner, to wash dishes or go and see Lara, your friend; it all seemed fairly normal but Joel knew and it only seemed to make him more persistent in his attempts to be in the same room as you. 

—

The sun was setting over Jackson, Tommy was on a night patrol, your least favourite and you were at home, alone. Well, besides Joel. 

As the evening ticked on; you had done everything you possibly could to avoid the older Miller brother until it was time for you to go to sleep, or at least retire to your bedroom for the evening. 

You had scrubbed the kitchen clean, made food for when Tommy would come in during the early hours of the next morning, scrubbed his work clothes clean and hung them up in the kitchen to dry in front of the stove. 

You had a brief shower and finally, you were able to sink into the warm comfort of your bed. Your door was pushed to, barely left open by a crack and you let your eyes drift closed, patiently waiting for sleep to overcome you. 

Time seemed to move impossibly slow, it felt like you had been laid there for hours, waiting for sleep to take you but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get comfy, you couldn’t get your temperature right and sleep didn’t feel like it was ever going to happen for you. 

You huffed loudly and threw the covers off of you, letting your arms drop either side of you in frustration as he huffed again before your mind started to wander. 

Soon, before you could stop it, thoughts of Joel fucking his fist were filling your mind and you felt yourself get slicker. You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated your next moves; Tommy wasn’t going to be home for hours to satisfy you and sometimes you did fall asleep quickly after masturbating. It didn’t help that you were ovulating again, which meant you were more horny than normal. 

You let you fingers slide under Tommy’s oversized t-shirt just so they could trail over your panties; you shivered at your own touch and without any more messing around, you dipped your fingers between your wet folds and started to circle your swollen clit. The immediate relief was like a wave crashing over you intensely and you gasped as your back arched up when your fingers sped up. 

—

Joel heard your bed creak, the problem with these houses in Jackson is that they were old and poorly made; the walls were thin and the floorboards creaked, not to mention a lot of the handcrafted furniture or hand-me-down’s. 

He crept out of his own room to check if you were okay, he reached yours and Tommy’s bedroom door and through the crack, he could see your body glowing in the low light of the moon seeping through the threadbare curtains. 

There you were, arching up and he could see your nimble fingers pleasuring yourself. It was his own perfect picture of sin waiting for him to take. 

Joel couldn’t help the way his cock twitched with interest in his jeans; you were everything he wanted but couldn’t take. Ever since he laid eyes on you, the first day you arrived in Jackson, he knew he had to have you and since then, his dark obsession only grew. 

And the fact you were with his brother? It only drove him madder and made him want you even more. 

—

“Oh, yeah, fuck. Just like that, daddy.” You whimpered quietly as your fingers dipped lower to sink into your hole. 

You had never once called Tommy daddy, it was a nickname you had reserved for Joel in the darkest, deepest and dirtiest depths of your mind. That small, reserved section of your mind that Joel took up; even when Tommy would be fucking you, you felt your mind drift off to thoughts of him. Thoughts of his thick cock. His hot ropes of cum on your soiled panties. The way he locked eyes with you and didn’t think to stop. 

You felt the heat of shame swallow your body as your eyes screwed tightly shut, little flecks of white danced behind your eyelids as you came around your fingers; your mouth agape with pleasure. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” Joel muttered, pushing your door open further and stepping into the dark room. 

“What the fuck!?” You screeched as you pulled your fingers from your panties and sat bolt upright to see the older Miller smirking at you. 

“My brother know you’re at home fucking yourself? Or is he not doing a good enough job and you’ve gotta satisfy yourself?” He cooed, stepping closer to your bed until he perched at the foot and stroked his hand up your foot. 

You kicked his hand away and folded your arms across the old fabric of Tommy’s t-shirt, trying to hide your hardened nipples. 

“I’m gonna say this one time, and one time only… fuck off, Joel. I’m with Tommy. End of. I love him. I don’t want you.” You all but spat, your voice sounding like pure venom as you spoke. 

“Oh. Feisty little girl. My brother got a fiery one. Good for him.” He smirked, his hand stroking further up your leg with each word. 

His hand finally reached your upper thigh and the breath in your throat caught shakily; you felt like you suddenly couldn’t breathe and every touch of his finger tips felt like multiple electric shocks to you. 

“Joel.” You warned. “I-I- I’m with Tommy, you need to l-leave?” Your voice was shaky, even with all good intentions you couldn’t help the way it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

“Hm?” He purred, his brow quirked as he pushed your thighs apart; he could see your inner thighs glistening in the cool glow from the moonlight, your arousal making your skin sticky. “Fuck.” He groaned. “So wet, this all for my brother? Hm?”

“Y-yes. Of course, who else would it be for?” You blushed. 

“I heard you call out daddy, you callin’ Tommy that? Something he don’t know yet? He gon’ finally be a daddy?” Joel’s fingers stroked so gently over your panties you weren’t even sure that he was actually touching you, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from shuddering. 

“No. No. He’s not — I mean, we’re not.” You mumbled, your breath shaking as you watching Joel’s dark eyes rake over you. Your arms were back by your sides and your fingers were clutching at the sheets below you. 

“That’s a shame.” He tutted, pressing one of his digits hard against the damp fabric of your panties. “You would look so sexy, all round and full. Fuck, you deserve to be bred the way you deserve.”

“Joel —“ you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as his finger pressed against your sensitive clit. “We shouldn’t. I mean, we- we can’t, I’m with Tommy. Please don’t make this harder for me.” 

“Come on baby girl, let me show you just how much better I am than Tommy. How much better I could be for you. Better lover, better daddy.”

You gasped at his words, they had such a visceral effect on you; it was instantaneous, with each word you felt yourself practically dripping for him. 

“Fuck. Come here.” You whimpered, leaning forward to grab Joel’s shirt to crash your lips together. 

It was an aggressive clash of lips, teeth and tongues; within seconds, Joel’s tongue found its way into your mouth and was kissing you in a way you could have only dreamt of with Tommy. 

Joel’s hand found its way to your jawline and he gripped it tightly as he climbed onto the bed to lay next to you. His other hand found its way under your shirt to grope at your breasts.

Everything felt so familiar yet entirely different; Joel’s hands were larger, they were rougher and more calloused than Tommy’s. His touches felt more aggressive, more lustful and you couldn’t deny the way it drove you mad. 

Joel’s facial hair scratched at the soft skin of your face, again, in a way that was entirely different to Tommy; it was hotter, it was forbidden. 

“Waited to kiss you like this since day one. Fuck, you feel so good under me.” Joel groaned against your lips as his fingers toyed with the hardened buds of your nipples. 

You arched up to his rough fingers and instinctively spread your legs further for him, all shame seemed to dissipate with every grope from the older man. 

“Fuck, I need more. Please.” You whimpered. 

Joel took the hint quickly, he kissed down your neck and trailed his fingers down your sternum before he finally reached the waistband of your panties. Joel breathed deeply as his fingers finally dipped into the damp fabric, he didn’t mess around and immediately, his fingers found your clit without any fumbling around. 

Your eyes widened at Joel and he just smirked as he circled it expertly with his thick fingers. He ducked his head down and kissed you once more, his teeth nipped at your bottom lip as you whimpered underneath him. 

“Fuck.” You whined pathetically under Joel. “Fuck, daddy. Fuck.” 

The words spilled from your mouth, they were smothered against Joel’s mouth but he still heard them and he smirked once more. 

“Fuckin’ knew you thought about me. Filthy little girl, aren’t you? Look at you, all whored out and for who? Your boyfriend’s brother. Filthy little slut.” Joel cooed with deep condescension. 

You whimpered again, it was all you trusted yourself to do; you knew if you tried to talk, your words would die in your throat and would fail you immensely.

“Take that top off. Need to see your beautiful tits again, fuck. Think about them all the time. I watch you, y’know.” Joel whispered into your ear. “I watch you when you’re showering, watch the way you soap up your tits. Fuck have cum over that image so many times.” Joel admitted. 

You gasped at his confession, you knew you should have been disgusted by his words, by his actions but it only seemed to grow your attraction, your arousal for him further. 

You quickly sat up, legs still spread for Joel and whipped the T-shirt over your head; your tits bounced gently as you laid back down and Joel let out a near animalistic growl at the sight of you below him. 

“Need to taste your pussy. Fuck. Need to so bad. Can’t stop myself now.” He smirked and without another word, he was removing your panties and positioning his head between your messy thighs. 

He used his thumb and finger to spread the glistening pink of your pussy before he licked a fat stripe up through your folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue. He did it a couple of times before bringing his head back up to you. 

“Open.” He hissed at you. 

There was a momentary second of confusion before you obediently opened your mouth for Joel, your tongue hanging out in anticipation. Joel spat into your mouth slowly, a fat line of your arousal and Joel’s spit landed on your tongue and you swallowed it back eagerly. 

It was filthy; it was pure debauchery and you honestly thought you might have died and gone to heaven right there. 

“Oh fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.” He praised and dipped his head down to suck your clit into his mouth. 

He suckled at the nub gently, the pressure sending thousands of shockwaves through your body at once. You shuddered with the pleasure and a soft whine fell from your lips. Joel’s nose nudged at your mound as his tongue flicked over your clit before he circled it and then went back to sucking at it; he repeated these motions in consecutive moments but would switch up what he would do next. Just to keep you on your toes. 

“Fuck. Daddy. I’m gonna cum.” You cried, tears pricking at your eyes from pure pleasure. 

Never had Tommy made you feel like this; your body was on fire, your skin was flushed and a slick layer of sweat settled all over your body. 

“Good girl. Cum for me. Fuckin’ soak my face. That’s it. Atta girl.” Joel praised between his pleasuring movements of his tongue. “Call me daddy again, driving me mad.” He hissed, spitting onto your clit before licking it back up with a flicking motion of his tongue. 

“Daddy!” You whined, your back arching off the bed like a possessed woman. “Oh my god!” You whined, the noise getting caught in your throat as your orgasm ripped through your entire body. 

You peered down as Joel licked you through your orgasm and you noticed the way his hips were grinding against the bed. This man was going to kill you off. He was so turned on by eating you out that he felt the need to hump at the bed like a horny mutt. 

“Jesus Christ.” You whimpered as Joel dragged a slow finger through your folds just to place a playful slap to your exposed pussy. 

“I prefer daddy.” Joel smirked, sitting back to remove his shirt and unbuckle his jeans. “How do you wanna take me, my good girl?”

Your head was swimming, it span with pleasure and you could barely think straight for more than two seconds. 

“I — um, you choose.” You whispered. 

“On all fours then, I know that’s how you like it the best. You always seem to cum the hardest when he fucks you like that.” Joel grinned, removing his clothes and standing at the edge of the bed, giving his thick cock a few testing strokes. 

You swallowed roughly, feeling as if there were razor blades sliding down. “You… you, you watched us fuck?” You asked dumbfounded, the words sounded bizarre as they bounced around the room. 

“Course I have, darlin’. Told you. I wanted you the moment I saw you. Just ‘cause you ain’t mine officially doesn’t mean I was gonna stop wanting you.” He spoke so calmly, like it was a totally normal thing to say. “And for the record, I know you ain’t ever cum that hard with Tommy, now you’ve got me thinking you fake it with him.”

“I do not.” You protested, your voice not convincing even to yourself. 

Joel raised a brow at you in question, his lips turned up at the corner with an air of a smirk. 

“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ve faked it a few times.” You admittedly quietly. 

“Atta girl, ain’t so hard to tell the truth now, is it?” He said smugly. “Now, get on your hands and knees, show me that pretty cunt before I destroy it. Good girls get rewarded and you’ve been real good for me, sweetheart.”

Silently, you positioned yourself for Joel; still unsure of why you were doing this; why you were potentially throwing away your great relationship and for what? A couple good orgasms. You were fucked. 

Joel tapped the thick head of his cock against your entrance and instinctively, you tried to push back onto him. 

“Tsk tsk tsk.” Joel cooed, slapping your clit with his hardened cock. “Not until I say so, baby girl. I’m in charge, I decide when you deserve my cock. Not sure you’re even gonna be able to take me. You look so tight and perfect.”

“Fuck, you’re such an ass. Such a tease. Please, I need it, Joel.” You whined petulantly. 

“Try again, sweetheart. Who am I?”

“Daddy.” You whispered. 

“And what do you want?” He beamed smugly. 

“Your cock, please, daddy. I want your cock so bad. Please.” You mewled. 

“Good.” Joel praised, he pressed his cock into your tight heat, so slowly that you felt every inch of the delicious stretch. “Good girl.” He sighed as he bottomed out in you. 

Under Joel, your fingers grasped at the sheets and your knuckles turned pale under the intense grip you had on them. He was big. Not just in length but he was girthy, thicker than Tommy was and you knew going forward, he wouldn’t be able to satisfy you in this way.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Clearly not been fucked in the proper way, so wet and tight for me.” Joel groaned, drawing his hips back slowly before thrusting forward slowly once again so you could feel every inch of him; every notch and vein of him. 

You nodded under him, your words failing you once again as pleasure swamped your body like an infection; it took over every one of your senses.

Joel’s fingers gripped tightly at your soft hips as he built a steady rhythm, with each thrust you could feel his cock head nudge at the spongy bundle of nerves deep inside of yourself. It was heady and intense, your fingers tingled as Joel fucked you roughly. 

His soft, slow thrusts from the start were long gone; he held you tighter as his hips snapped forward with force and pure fervour. 

“Daddy. Feels so good.” You whimpered under him, your tights swaying back and forth as he fucked you. “Want you to fill me up. Breed me, please. Fuck.” You pleaded. 

Joel couldn’t help the groan that rumbled from deep in his throat, it was a deep and masculine noise that shocked you. 

“Hm, want me to give you that baby you want so bad?” Joel asked, landing a harsh spank to your doughy ass cheek. “Want to feel my cum leaking out of you as you try to sleep? Hm? Want my cum to stick to your inner thighs ready for when Tommy’s home?” He spanked you again as he spoke and you nodded eagerly at him. “Bet you would, little fucking whore.”

“I am. I’m a filthy little whore. All for you though, daddy. Not for him.”

Joel buried his cock deep into you and snaked his hand around to your mouth. 

“Spit on them, slut.” He instructed abruptly. 

You collected some spit on your tongue before you spat onto Joel’s digits, ignoring the way it dripped onto the sheets below you. 

He took his spit-slicked fingers and placed them on the swollen nub of your clit, you gasped at the contact and Joel circled it perfect, the spit and your arousal making it easy for him to pass his fingers directly over the sensitive bundle. 

“I bet Tommy wouldn’t even be surprised if he came home and found some other man’s cum making you all messy and sticky; he knows you’re a filthy little whore, perfect little sinner.” He groaned, his fingers working faster to bring you closer to your orgasm. 

“I’m gonna cum again, Joel.” You whispered, his name falling off your lips with ease, like you said it all the time. 

“Sound so sexy when you say my name.” He cooed. “You want to cum on my cock? Hm? Wanna cum on it whilst I fill you with my hot seed. God, wanna breed this little cunt so bad. So hot and tight. Hope I get you pregnant.” He growled. 

Joel’s words, his fingers and his cock all worked in perfect unison to push you off the edge and fall into your second, intense orgasm; your head lulled forward into the crook of your elbow as you clenched around Joel’s still cock. You felt so full, so deliciously full and you wanted to stay like this forever. 

“Good girl. Now let me cum in this little cunt. You ready for that?” He asked softly, brushing some hair away from your shoulder before he placed a soft, tender kiss to the skin of your back. 

It was a stark contrast to the way he had just been treating you and it made your stomach flutter with adoration for the older male. 

You nodded, it was all Joel needed and he went back to gripping your hips with an intense tightness. He pulled his cock all the way out before he snapped forward again; his thrusts were rough and short, you could tell he was just rutting himself to his own greedy high. All you could do was whimper and moan underneath him, taking everything he had to offer. 

“I know baby. I know. It’s okay. Almost there. Such a good girl.” Joel mumbled, his thumbs smoothing over your skin as he fucked into you feverishly. 

You whined under the male as his hips stalled and stuttered, and then, suddenly you felt the hot ropes of his cum coat your insides. Joel’s thick cock twitched inside of you and for a second, you felt even fuller than before as his seed filled you. 

Joel stayed like that for a second, only moving his hips with slow, sloppy thrusts; the obscene squelching noises of your arousals filled the silent room and you whimpered pathetically. 

He slowly pulled out of you with a hiss, his cock fell and he collapsed onto the bed. You winced as you moved to lay next to the male, you knew you were going to be feeling sore for the next couple of days but you liked it, it would serve as a real reminder than this actually happened and wasn’t the result of a heavy night of drinking or a weird fever dream. 

“Fuck.” You muttered, leaning up on your elbows to suck in a few deep and shaky breaths. “What the fuck have I done? What the fuck did you do?” You hissed, collapsing back onto the bed with a soft sob; the lust clearing from the room as the grim reality settled around you. 

“Gave you what you’ve been wanting, sweetheart. It’s okay.” Joel offered up softly. 

“Joel…” you whispered. “I’m - I’m ovulating and you just came right inside of me. Oh my fucking god. I’m dead. Tommy is gonna kill me. Tommy is gonna kill you.” 

“Tommy won’t know. Just make sure you have sex with him in the next couple of days and you’ll be golden. And well, if it happens. It happens. Uncle Joel at your service. If it doesn’t, we’ll try again next month.” He teased, with his forearm draped over his eyes. 

“You’re not fucking funny.” You yelled. “Get out Joel, you’re fucked in the head. Get out.” You screamed, slapping his side and pushing the male off the bed. 

He got off the bed and held his arms up in surrender. 

“Okay, chill out. I’m gone. Tommy won’t know, I won’t say a word. And when you want this to happen again, you say the words and I’ll be right here for you, sweetheart.” He smirked as he bunched his clothes up into his arms. 

He picked up your discarded panties and left the room without another word.

You wrapped the duvet around your naked body and sobbed quietly to yourself; this whole situation was about to get real fucking messy. You laid there, tears staining your cheeks as you prayed that it wouldn’t happen as different scenarios played out in your mind like a horror movie.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you awoke to the mattress dipping next to you and Tommy placed a kiss to your shoulder and stroked your side. 

“Hello baby,” he whispered, snuggling up behind you. “Smells like sex in here.” He said, with a soft chuckle. 

“That was me…” you muttered, still not daring to look your boyfriend in the eyes. “Got so damn horny I had to touch myself, I couldn’t wait for you to get home.” You lied and closed your eyes. 

“Now as exciting as that sounds, I’m so tired I don’t think I could even get it up if I tried. Tomorrow? I promise.” He laughed, kissing your shoulder again before he turned his back to you and fell asleep. 

You laid there for hours, watching your peaceful boyfriend sleeping; letting the guilt nibble away at every piece of you before you saw Joel leave for the morning patrols. He walked past your bedroom door, he lingered for a few seconds, looked at you with a smirk before he raised a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and winked at you. 

You bit on your bottom and squeezed your legs together; it shouldn’t turn you on but still, here you were, laid in bed with his brother as your core throbbed for Joel Miller. 

-

-

[notreallysorryxx]

#"Be A Millionaire"

Aventurine wants to put a baby in you.

Characters: aventurine (the peacock himself)

Warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding (so smut), use of the word "whore" (if that bugs you, why are you reading it 🤨), petname "pet", there's some hoes in this house LMAO

Notes: This was heavily inspired by "Baby By Me" by 50 Cent & Ne-Yo. I absolutely love breeding in smut so why not try writing my own. I'm not good at writing smut, but I tried!

Words: 1.5k

You couldn't deny that Aventurine was attractive. Although he might be a threat to you and the other Nameless, you couldn't resist his charm. He liked spoiling you, his 'pet'. Veritas thought the both of you were disgusting. He'd found out about your relationship after walking in to the two of you fucking in the hotel bathroom.

Aventurine often invited you to his hotel room, spoiling you there too. He'd give you anything you wanted, absolutely anything. Aventurine had invited you after dinner today. His gaze stayed on your stomach, noticing the slight bulge from the food you had eaten. Even though you were talking, he wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. His arm wrapped around your waist, palm pressed against your stomach.

"Aventurine? Are you listening to me?" you asked.

"Huh? Yeah, of course," he answered.

But you could clearly tell he wasn't. You were confused, following his gaze. What was he so fixated on?

"What's up?"

Aventurine smiles, rubbing his thumb against the skin of your stomach.

"It almost looks like your pregnant, doesn't it? Wouldn't be so bad if you were," he murmurs.

You don't respond, jaw dropped. The two of you hadn't ever talked about a baby, but you weren't opposed. You thought about it, a mini Aventurine sounded adorable. With his genes, any kid you'd have would look cute.

"Yeah? I didn't take you for someone like this-"

"Someone like what?" Aventurine laughs, "I saw a cute kid today in the hotel and then you show up, belly bulging from food... imagine how good you'd look if you were actually pregnant. You'd be glowing, gorgeous as always. Makes me wanna put a baby in you."

He smirks as he sees you go red, "Oh? You like the idea? Should I actually..."

He pulls you impossibly closer, hands groping at your ass. This is a habit of his, groping you. Aventurine knows you like how handsy he is.

"If we actually do this... I won't let you rest at all. Clear your schedule for tomorrow, hm? Come on, be a good little pet."

Your hands shake as you take out your phone to message the Astral Express group chat. The message you send is a jumble of words that can barely be discerned.

"Tsk, can't even spell write. Maybe you should call them."

You inhale sharply. Calling everyone at this hour? And when he's touching you like this? How would you keep your composure. Knowing Welt and Himeko, they'd pick up on this. And you know that Caelus wouldn't approve of your fraternising with the "enemy".

Aventurine waits as you decide. Eventually you give up and call your friends. "Ah, hello," Himeko answers sweetly. "We were wondering where you were."

You take a deep breath before requesting a break the next day. Himeko listens, allowing your request.

"But I do wonder why you'd request a break. Are you tired? Or is there another reason?"

"N-No, I'm just taking time for myself. Recuperating after the Luofu, you know?"

"Mhm, sure."

The doubt is clear in her response, but you brush it off. Aventurine raises his eyebrow, squeezing your thigh.

"Um, I should go... see you later, Himeko."

"Of course, goodnight."

Aventurine smiles, kissing your wrist as you set your phone down.

"Good pet. And you know what good pets get? They get treats. Sit on the counter, legs open. Rest them on my shoulder."

You do as he says, letting him kneel between your legs. He hooks a finger around the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off. They stick to you, wet from your arousal.

"Hm? Already so wet from the idea of me knocking you up, sweetheart? How lewd," he comments.

Before you can respond, he's flinging your undergarment in the other direction, licking a stripe up your core. You gasp. His mouth is so wet and it feels amazing on you. Aventurine smiles against your cunt, suckling on your clit. He teasingly nibbles.

He's too good at this, too good at using his tongue. In more ways than one.

He pulls back a bit, licking his lips, "I've barely even done anything and yet you're gushing on the counter. How cute."

Aventurine leans back in, tongue slipping inside of you. He hums and you can feel the vibration. Your moans only serve to encourage him, his tongue working faster. You beg him to stop. Not because you don't like it, but because you don't want to cum just yet. He doesn't listen for once. Your pleading spurring him on in a way.

"Don't be afraid... let go, my love. I want to taste you," he whispers as his face is still buried between your legs.

You barely hear him, legs tightening around his head. He grunts as you practically smother him with your thighs. But he doesn't mind and you can tell by the way his cock is straning his slacks.

"Please, Venturi-" you whine.

You're cut off by your orgasm, hands gripping his hair tightly. He groans, tasting you on his tongue. Aventurine laps every last drop of your cum up, wiping anything he got on his face with his finger before licking that up too.

"You taste sweet, as always," he coos, inserting his finger now.

You whimper from the overstimulation, squirming.

Aventurine clicks his tongue, "Don't make me tie you down, darling." By the way you clench around his fingers, he can tell you lick the idea.

"Dirty little thing, you are."

He stretches you open, but the both of you know that won't be enough.

"I'm sorry, my sweet. But I just can't wait anymore. It'll sting a bit, okay?" he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe. You nod, not minding if it does sting.

A little bit of pain is nothing if it gets you pleasure later.

"Good pet."

You watch as Aventurine slides his slacks off. The front of his boxers is a mess, fabric incredibly wet. You realise he must have came in his boxers earlier. His cock is reasonably sized, a bit bigger than average but nothing extraordinary. And yet he could no doubt break you with just his cock.

"I don't think the counter would be the best place for this. Especially if we're doing this all night. On the bed, all fours, and ass in the air."

You comply, stripping yourself completely while you're at it. He absolutely loves this position. Loves being able to push your head down in the pillows, loves being able to grope you from behind, loves leaving marks on the nape of your neck and whispering in your ear.

He positions himself behind you before entering you. You hiss at the feeling of him pushing in, stinging just as he had said earlier. But you relish the feeling. It's not so much painful, just unexpected. He can feel your walls clamp around him as your body struggles to fit him since he didn't stretch you enough.

"Shit! You're so tight, wish I had stretched you out more. But it feels amazing, sweetheart. The way you clench around my dick. You love it so much, don't you?" he teases, "I know you do."

He makes a point by thrusting into you. You groan, grabbing the sheets beneath you so you don't collapse.

"Was that painful?"

"No, keep going..."

He listens to you, setting a steady pace. But not before you adjust to his size. It feels amazing, euphoric, as he slides in and out of you.

"You can go faster," you mumble.At first, you don't think he hears you as he pulls out. You're proven wrong as he slams back into you. While the pace before had been steady and rather slow, now he's pounding into you, destroying your insides.

"My pet," he croons, sounding out of breath. "This is what you wanted, hm? For me to treat you like my personal toy... What would the others on the Astral Express think? Seeing you with someone they dislike? What are you going to tell them when you wind up pregnant? That it was an accident? Or will you tell the truth?

"You moan, "T-Tell them the truth..."

"Yeah? That you've been whoring yourself out to me?"He slaps your ass without warning and you can practically hear the grin in his voice."You're fucking adorable... imagine our child. I bet they'll have your eyes," he murmurs softly.

It's strange, endearing almost, that this man who's fucking you so roughly is speaking so softly about what your future kids will look like. You almost laugh at the image, but you can't in your current state. Aventurine reaches for your clit, rubbing it in a circle and pinching it between his fingers.

"I can feel that you're close. Cum for me, darling."

And you do, faceplanting into the pillow and collapsing on the mattress.

Aventurine follows after you, chest against your back. He pants in your ear. You feel him shoot his load into you, his seed warm. It's something you're not used to since he usually pulls out.

"That was amazing, you're wonderful. You'll make a beautiful mother, my dear," he whispers. "Ah, but don't think we're done."

He chuckles as you grunt into the pillow.

[disneyprincemuke]

family day * fem!driver

her siblings are in attendance for her race, wreaking havoc wherever their sister steps foot in

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, alex albon x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

warnings: siblings is the warning

notes: i tried to make this as anonymous friendly as possible but it's deemed very difficult when there are too many nameless characters... LOLSIE

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

"oh my god. that's fernando alonso!"

the squeaky voice amidst all the chaos in the paddocks makes her snap her head, only catching her younger brother starting his run for the older driver up ahead.

her hand darts into the air, grabbing him by the back of his shirt's collar. she yanks him back towards her, stumbling back steps but still managing his stability to stand tall. "where do you think you're going, dalton?"

"dude. that's fernando alonso. i've got to say hi!" he points excitedly towards the man towards the aston martin home. he tries to swat her grip on him off, the front hem of his shirt pressed up against his neck. "come on!"

"this is my first year here, you're not embarrassing me by acting like a crazed fan."

"i'm not acting like a crazed fan. he's my hero!"

"you weren't even interested in the sport until last year when i told you i'm moving up to f1."

"he doesn't have to know that."

"but he will."

"he will not."

oscar sighs, reaching forward to forcefully remove her hands from the deathly grip it had on the mclaren shirt that dalton had on. "come on, kid. i'll take you to him."

"no, you're not," she repeats, physically moving him away from the australian. she turns away from oscar and puts her hands on her hips. she points a stern finger towards her brother. "you're not to talk to any of the drivers without me."

his mouth moves, mocking her as she tells him off with a roll of his eyes. "fine, whatever."

"i have to go meet seb for a team meeting. please behave," she pleads, palms pressed together. she looks at oscar with an expectant stare and glances at dalton. "like, seriously. i have enough on my plate today."

oscar nods, scrunching up his nose to reassure her. he gives her a thumbs up while his arm slings over the younger boy's shoulders. "i got it. don't worry about us."

"i'm serious, oscar!" she widens her eyes and takes a step forward. the two boys flinch with a step backwards, throwing their hands up in the air to fend her off. she turns to her brother once more. "i can't babysit you guys today; i'll be working! it doesn't help i've got dumb, dumber and dumbest for siblings."

"hey, you're related to us! you're the leader of the dumbs," he scoffs, arms folding over his chest in frustration.

oscar puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking her body slightly to calm her down. he retracts his hand when her stare cuts to him. "i'll find them and i'll show them around."

her stare lingers without another word. finally, she slouches slightly and she drops her arms to the side. she unclenches her fists. "okay. my meeting shouldn't take too long. i'll text you when i'm done."

a small smile finally stretches her lips. she turns around to start walking towards her team home.

she only takes a small step forward before paranoia engulfs her again. "seriously, no talking to the other drivers without me!"

oscar gives her two thumbs up, waving her off as she gets further down the pathway.

oscar squeezes the boy in his arms and pats his chest. a mischievous smile on his face, turning the other way towards the stretch of racing homes. "how'd you like to meet fernando alonso, kid?"

"oh, don't stress," sebastian waves her off, tapping his phone against his palm. he's walking slowly with the driver next to him, head turning as he searches for the siblings she's losing her mind over. "i'm sure oscar is taking care of them."

"no, he's not! they went to meet fernando and max behind my back when i specifically told them not to!" she screams over the music, pushing through the crowd to find the group wreaking havoc on behalf of her name.

she's desperate to find them. she's tiptoeing and craning her neck in attempts to spot them in the crowd. but with her lack of height, it's deemed almost impossible to complete her mission.

"how do you even know that?" he chuckles, glancing at her frantic state. truth is, he spotted her group of siblings with the bright orange-dressed driver just a few seconds ago.

"because i saw dalton's instagram story! he's posted a selfie with fernando!"

"okay. well, i found them." sebastian grabs her arm, dragging her towards a quieter area.

there, in fact, stands all her siblings with a couple of drivers. and the main source of all her stress, oscar piastri.

"hey, (y/n)!" max beckons her over, beaming with a wide smile and faltering laughter. "you never told us your siblings were so funny! i can see where they get it from."

"that's because they're not funny," she frowns, taking a spot next to the red bull driver who's moved slightly to include her in their circle. "i'm the only one blessed with humour in my family."

alex throws his head back, giggling. with several siblings of his own, he definitely can feel for her. especially being the oldest. "well, they're a delight to be with. they should attend more races, you know!"

"i agree with alex," ciara points at him with a knowing nod. and a smirk that drives her crazy. "it's kinda fun being here."

she scrunches her nose, shaking her head mockingly. "you wish. you've still got school to attend and i have better people to give my race passes to and it's not you."

"so, (y/n), ciara was telling us about your first boyfriend," alex laughs, covering his mouth to cover the smile growing on his face. "was he ugly?"

"he was ugly," dalton confirms with a frown on his face, flashes of his oldest sister's ex-boyfriend flashing in his head. "a total douchebag."

"how would you know, you were like 9."

"you've had a boyfriend!" sebastian grins, staring at her with an open smile. "you never told me about that! i thought you've never had one."

"he is ugly," oscar adds on, shrugging at alex when he receives a shocked stare. he reaches for his phone in his back pocket, stepping to the middle of their circle. "let me show you guys!"

"we dated for 6 months, it doesn't count!" she scrambles forward, trying to swat the phone away from oscar's hands. "don't show them!"

max tilts his head. "why, how ugly was he?"

"considerably," ciara laughs, nodding as she purses her lips together.

"who was ugly?" logan pops up behind alex, furrowing his eyebrows at the female wrestling oscar for his phone.

the height difference always plays a part: oscar simply holds the phone up with extended arms as she tries to physically climb hin to get ahold of it.

"her ex-boyfriend," max grins, clearly enjoying the chaos that her siblings have brought him this race weekend.

"she won't kill you, here you go," oscar laughs, tossing his phone towards the dutch leaning on the wall.

"he was nice, okay!" she defends, finally detaching herself from oscar. she stares at max, hands stiffly extended down in embarrassment as the phone gets passed around the circle. "and i was 16! come on!"

"i'm not judging," max shrugs, though eyes still stuck to the screen in his hands. alex is leaned in towards the phone, glancing up at her then back to the phone again as he tries to form an opinion. "but i would have done better if i was a girl as pretty as you."

"aw, he thinks you're pretty! dude!" dalton teases, punching his sister's back very gently.

she throws her head back and groans when sebastian joins the huddle around the phone. "not the point!"

sebastian's face contorts to a look of disbelief. he looks up at her, nose scrunched up and mouth agape. "and what did you look like when you were 16 again?"

"here." ciara extends her hand with her phone, clearly prepared for somebody to ask that question.

sebastian takes it into his hands, ignoring the girl's pleads to not take the phone. he pushes it next to oscar's phone, the three drivers now forming their final verdicts.

max pouts his lips out. "definitely too pretty for him."

"that's what we told her." logan looks down at his feet and shakes his head in disappointment.

the conversation that they used to have over the phone briefly flashes through his mind as she defended her young relationship. oscar would then roll his eyes over the phone screen and simply tell her to fuck off.

"well, you're in the big leagues now! it won't take long for you to bag a famous boyfriend," oscar teases, pulling her in for a side hug. "he'll be cute this time, we'll make sure of it."

max nods, lips pressed together as he agrees with oscar. "you won't even be allowed to get hit on by ugly guys anymore now that we're here."

the girl shied away behind ciara, very silent this whole time, pokes her head out and chuckles. "sounds like they're trying to set you up with somebody already."

"blythe, please!"

"i hope you guys enjoyed media day," she shrugs, swinging her bag over her shoulder. she puts a hand on her hip and flicks her head towards the exit of the paddocks. "first and last race you'll be attending, by the way."

"hater," ciara scoffs, scrambling to get up from her position on the floor. she straightens her shirt and sighs. "but i guess it was kinda fun."

blythe sends ciara and stern glare. "it was fun. your colleagues are all very nice. i hope they're treating you well?"

"they're very protective," she shrugs with a shy smile.

"and oscar's a menace as always? i don't expect anything less from him, having grown up with three sisters as well." blythe glances at dalton trailing behind them.

the younger boy is now silent, dragging his feet against the floor and shoulders slumped as he follows them blindly.

"i swear he has a crush on you, dude," ciara giggles, bumping shoulders with her older sister. "you've gotta ask him or something."

she furrows her eyebrows. the thought of oscar being romantically interested in her is absolutely absurd. "oscar has a girlfriend, ciara. god forbid i be friends with a guy and keep it platonic."

ciara shrugs, "either he wants to hit or he thinks you're ugly - it's the rule of thumb. matt rife said it."

"just end the conversation before you get into a fight," blythe sighs tiredly, putting her hands up to separate the two. "it was a good day. thank you for giving us your passes this weekend."

"absolutely," she smiles. she hangs back a couple of steps and wraps her hand around dalton's arm. "i hope you enjoyed today. you met charles too, right?"

dalton nods, eyes half closed. "you were right - he is very pretty up close," he says softly, voice sore from all the excited screaming he's done all day. "my favourite is still sebastian."

she rubs his arm gently, giggling at his short responses. "okay, let's get you guys back to the hotel for some dinner and a good night's rest. that's only 1 day out of 3."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

[impactedfates]

Hello there!! Can I request some headcanons / mini-scenarios for: Dan Heng, March, Welt, Himeko, Yanqing and Jing Yuan; with a normally soft-spoken Reader who has a wide vocal range (from contralto to hitting those high notes) and occasionally does song covers? Doesn't matter the genre, so long as Reader likes it.

So they might hear Reader singing something like a lullaby or a traditional Xianzhou song one day, to something that's still soft and sweet like a mainstream pop song on another day; to belting out something like "Kakusei" or "NEXUS" from the Promare OST. :D

★ A/N: I understood the request, I just hope I wrote it in a way you wanted! People with such a large vocal range are so talented istg, they gotta teach me. (I say as if I have ANY confidence to sing anyways)

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Head Cannons (And small scenario at the end :>)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Reader is a Nameless // Readers age is undisclosed so imagine them at whatever age you wish // Reader can play instruments! // Characters might be OOC I feel // Proof Read but I did it when it was 4am lmao

When you sing more soft songs, Dan Heng tends to enjoy listening. It helps him feel more relax and sometimes rids his mind of nightmares.

He's more used to hearing that kind of voice from you. So when one day, he walks in on you singing a song that's the exact opposite of how you usually sing, he's a bit surprised.

He never doubted you could have a big vocal range, however hearing you sing a song that's different to how he normally hears you sing is what surprised him.

He still enjoys listening, but more so when you sing in a softer voice, don't get him wrong. He still enjoys your singing voice and will support you. But he isn't one for a more loud song.

"[Name]...if you're going to sing more...on the loud side, could I request you do it else where?" Dan Heng sighs softly, being awoken up once again due to you. Despite his words hinting at annoyance, his facial expression was soft and kind. A soft sorry came from your voice as you quickly turned off the music you were using, switching to a more softer song. An old Xianzhou lullaby. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Sit on the couch and I'll sing a softer song" You smiled, Dan Heng chuckled as he obliged. He can't deny that your more softer voice doesn't help him fall asleep. He silently hums along to your voice, and in a sleepy voice he speaks to you before drifting to bed. "If you enjoy music like that so much, we can pay a visit to Serval okay?"

March 7th LOVES your singing voice. She would sing along to whatever song you were singing. She praises you every time she hears you and likely took photos of you singing.

She so supports you if you ever make a YouTube (StarTube?) account and posted covers, literally your number 1 fan.

When you post a cover of a song, she's always the first one to like, comment and listen!

When you post a cover of a song that's VERY different. (Let's say, Usseewa) and you hit ALL those high notes and, everything omg. She was surprised but immediately hyped you up.

She doesn't mind if you sing songs like that at all, your singing is amazing. Like I said, number 1 fan...she doesn't hid it either.

"I love you [Name]!" "Uh, the one with the blue camera and pink hair?" "OH. MY GOD. [NAME] YOU NOTICED ME, YOU NOTICED ME. I.LOVE.YOU" Serval laughed out loud seeing Marchs outburst, as if you two don't live with each other. You could only look away with a small smile, seeing March jump up and down and shaking whoever was beside her. Much to Welts "delight"

Welts very impressed with your vocal range. But he's also worried, he knows that if you were able too have a large vocal range, you likely know how to manage it.

Still, anytime he hears you singing songs like NEXUS or Kakusei he can't help but slide over a bottle of water for your throat.

If you ever join a concert with Serval then he IS buying tickets, though not everyone may go (Dan Heng) he and the rest of the Express will.

He also tends to buy any merch you may come out with if there is any. (Mainly for March but he does keep one or two for himself to support you)

He doesn't really have a preference when it comes too what songs you sing, just as long as your happy and it isn't really disturbing anyone.

If you ever start a StarTube channel, he might animate a few of your covers! Under a pen name though, he's not embarrassed, but I think he'd like it if you thought it was a different fan and not just him who's already liked your singing from the start. (If that makes sense)

"WELT! Weltweltwelt" You ran up to him, quickly showing him an animation someone did of one of your new songs. "ArahatosNumber1Fan animated one of my covers again" You said excitedly, bringing the phone screen back to your view as you scrolled through the comments. Many complimenting the animation but many also asking who sang the cover to which they were directed to your account. "This the guy that you said was helping boost your channel subs?" You nod happily, tapping your chin you thought for a bit. "Do you think they'd still animate my covers even if I sing a different genre? I want to go with something softer this time instead of a louder peice" "I'm sure they'll animate any song you wish to sing" He chuckles. And sure enough, a week after you posted a cover of Lost Umbrella, ArahatosNumber1Fan posted an animation to go along with it.

Himeko compliments you a lot for your vocal range. In fact, she got you a karaoke machine for your birthday! Of course, though. She doesn't let you use it during night time. She doesn't want to wake up because you decided to start singing Churira Churira Dadada at 3 in the morning.

I do think she prefers you to sing outside the train. While she does enjoying your singing and she has no problem if you were to sing in the train. However she also understands it may disturb many people so she does ask for you to sing in an area where you aren't disturbing anyone.

I feel like she also asks you to teach her how to sing or have a wider vocal range. She enjoys singing herself and would love to join in when you're out singing to keep you company!

Perhaps you two can make money by singing on the streets :> (Only if you're okay with it though!)

You strummed you guitar as the two of you reached the last note, Himeko took a small bow and looked up at the audience that had gathered around. All of them clapping and complimenting your voice. She laughed softly and gently packed up your things so the two of you could get going, checking to see if you were uncomfortable with the attention before she directs you back to the train. As you two entered, Himeko was quick to sit and count the amount of credits that were left in your guitar case, looking up to you she said with a smile. "A success, well done. They loved you" "It wasn't just me singing..." "Perhaps but...I'd say they have their favourites"

When Yanqing overhears you singing Xianzhou lullabys, he's quick to shower you with compliments. Your voice is so soothing! He could listen it for so long and it's effective too. You had to usher him out as he could wake the kids you just put to bed.

When he hears you singing a song like (man I'm running out of songs I know/hj) Noels Lament. He's impressed, how can you sing a song so softly and quietly and then sing something like this which needs a stronger voice??

He might skip a few of his training to find you and see what song you're singing, he makes it a guessing game! Will you be singing something so sweet and kind? Or something that might will make head turn??

"...Yanqing?" "Ha! I guessed right this time" "...Guessed...right?" Ah, you weren't meant to know the guessing game he had in his own head, quickly, he shuffled away. Scratching the back of his head. "Of where you were!" "I always walk in this area" "...I meant...what outfit you'd be wearing?" "I usually wear similar clothes?" ...Yeah, he's running off quickly, hopefully Jing Yuan won't scold him for skipping his training again right? Surely the general can understand he just has to see if his guess was right or not.

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly) Jing Yuan enjoys when you sing your heart out with songs like Candy Store or Mount Rageous. That's the type of sing he first heard you sing when he tried to find Yanqing when he skipped yet another training sessions.

Usually he would just sleep till Yanqing returned or just go on with his day if he never did. In either case, now he joins Yanqing to see what song you're singing before returning back to train.

When he hears you singing a less upbeat song like Sweet Dreams. He's slightly surprised but listens intently, it's different to what he often hears you sing but he enjoys it none the less, he sees your happy so he's fine.

He might even request to hear certain songs just to see how well you voice range can handle it. From the loudest song that could break glass, to a soothing song that can put even the mara struck to bed. And if you successfully sing them all, he congratulates you.

Overall, he's impressed as well as many others, likely talks to you and how well you sing to his friends.

You panted a bit as you finished a particularly long high note, Jing Yuan chuckles and slides over a cup of water which you accept quickly. Taking a drink to sooth your throat. "You voice really can do wonders, I'm more then impressed" He speaks, you nodded in response as he then offers a small treat for agreeing to sing a song for him. A song that made you go from high to low, soft to loud and all in all, tested how wide your voice range can be in a singular song. "I must apologies, I just wished to see how far your voice can go. I should've considered how tired your throat must be from singing that particular song" "No worries, it was fun to read and practice that song. I'm a bit surprised you know it though" "Oh? Are you now?" "Yeah...I mean...the song was released like a month ago and you're kinda a grandp-" "Alright I get it" He chuckled lightly, gently flicking your forehead.

I'm so smart writing Yanqings and JY sleep deprived right?/j Yeah uh they might be OOC, hopefully not thoughejfpgt.

[featherandferns]

daylight - prologue

jj maybank x fem!reader | prologue of the daylight series

content warnings: none

word count: 537

blurb: people-watching at a kegger, you find your new muse through your camera lens

His eyes are perfect. They reflect the setting sun like a still lake of water reflects treelines and sky. Clear, crisp and clean. They’re somewhere between blue and green. They remind you of a marsh pond or natural lake, enclosed within shrubs and trees, weeping willows and that sort of thing. His eyelashes are the things that girls would envy: long and naturally curled. Why do men always have such great eyelashes? It’s never fair. 

You watch as crow's feet appear beside his eyes. He must be smiling. Your focus is on his side profile, gazing at him through the viewfinder of your camera. That small mark of technology makes you feel less creepy in your staring. When he laughs, he shifts out of focus and view, shaking with his humour, eyes crinkled and bright. Something about it makes you smile too, as if you’re in on the joke. It’s a small smile. Secretive. He has dimples, you realise. An almost symmetrical smile that is somehow resigned and assertive at once. He’s mesmerising. It’s like he was meant to exist through a camera lens. You take the opportunity to snap a shot the moment he’s back in focus. Two. One more and - yes, perfect. 

You like photographing most things. Nature, people, sports, still-life: you weren’t picky. But eyes - oh, those are your favourite. It has always been a weird obsession of yours. There’s just something about them. They hold so much character; so much emotion, so much feeling. William Shakespeare once said, ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’, and you had to agree. This nameless boy’s eyes are the perfect example. 

But then you realise that you’re seeing his eyes from a whole new angle. 

They’re staring right at you.  

You quickly dart away. Lift the camera up and to the right, as if you’re photographing the sparse treeline which lines the beach. There’s a small thrum of anxiety in your throat which you swallow. You don’t dare look back to where he is. Instead, you distract yourself by adjusting the focus of the camera and zooming in on the branches, hoping to spot some wildlife. A bird is perched on a branch and you take a mundane photo before lowering your camera. You inspect the picture. Then, you finally brave a look to where the boy had been standing before. He’s gone. Phew. As the ‘new girl’ in town, the last thing you needed was the tagline of ‘stalker’. It was intrusive of you to photograph a stranger rather than striking up conversation like any normal person, but the kegger had been overwhelming. Everyone knew each other. Friends upon friends; groups and gangs of teenagers; hell, even the tourists all huddled together like lifelong pals. You felt on the outside. You always liked to people watch. Get a feel for the crowd and the people from a safe distance, your camera acting like a shield.

Looking down to mess with the settings, you take one more glance around to see if you can spot him. He seems to have vanished. Sighing, you lift your camera once more and turn your attention to another crowd of people at the beach, and you continue snapping away. 

read the next part here

[jakescaravel]

A Lovey Promise

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 4,718

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, being tipsy, friends to lovers, kissing, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dares, teasing, dom Jake, hickeys, praise, very very slight allusions to pain (only briefly), orgasm denial, 18+ MDNI!!!

Summary: Your best friend, dripping with a level of confidence that slightly annoys you, delivers an offer, a bet that you simply can't refuse...

6 empty shot glasses sit on the coffee table in front of you thanks to you and Jake’s ongoing tradition. That being shots and a movie, always picked at random (that part being very important), at least once a month although it usually ends up being more.

You lay on the couch curled into Jake’s side underneath a warm comforter. Your hand softly rests on his chest, feeling the gentle beat of his heart along with the subtle ruse and fall of his chest. His arm wraps around you, cocooning you in your shared world of peace, calming you in a way only capable by Jake. It’s so easy to feel safe with him like this. Sometimes when the two of you hang out, you forget that anyone else exists at all. Just the two of you in his small, old apartment.

The cuddling is entirely platonic of course. Not many people understand you and Jake’s friendship, but to the two of you, it makes perfect sense. Sure you guys cuddle and hang out constantly, and maybe you’ve shared a few makeout sessions after having one too many, but those were just “mistakes”. He’s your best friend. And nothing more.

You’re definitely feeling the alcohol and Jake must be as well due to his slightly slurred speech and uncensored Jake commentary.

“Whaddyou think ‘bout the movie Lovey?”

You can feel his head turn towards yours when he speaks, chin resting atop your head, although you can’t see his face. His use of your nickname warms your heart. Especially because of the way it floats off his adorably inebriated tongue. You had earned that nickname after buying a boyfriend of yours flowers years ago- an act Jake thought to be silly and just plain backwards. (“You’re such a hopeless romantic, you’re so lovey dovey, it's honestly sickening. What, does this guy not buy you flowers? Do I need to have a talk with him? Bet he doesn’t fuck you right either…)

The name stuck ever since, but of course you love it. 

“I don’t really know what's going on to be honest.”

“Yeah… itsnot very good.” He states matter of factly before a yawn passes his lips. “Oh look, they're kissing, finally some action!”

Huffing a laugh at his almost childlike revelation, you sit up a little taller and turn your head back toward the screen. The two characters, nameless due to your lack of attention, sit on a couch, hands chasing after each other. She moans into the kiss, parting her lips for him as he lays her down on the couch. Your thighs clench together on their own accord and you could have sworn it’s subtle, but Jake lets out a giggle.

You decide to ignore him completely with your eyes still glued to the screen. Jake’s remarks have stopped, telling you he’s watching just as intently as you, and all of a sudden you’re very aware of how close you are to him. His breathing, his hair ticking your face, his smell. He always smells so good, fresh and clean, but buried below a layer of sweat and musk. So Jake, so perfect. 

You wonder what he's thinking about. Maybe if he too notices the proximity of your bodies, or the way your breathing has slowly picked up.

The man’s hand drifts down as the girl let’s out another overly dramatic moan. Of course the screen doesn’t really show anything, but it sure leaves a lot to the imagination, letting your mind wander without hopes of stopping. 

Jake shifts on the couch, his hand falling from around your shoulder to land around your hip. He pulls you closer to him and speaks again, but this time the playful quality to his voice is gone, and all that’s left is a low grumble.

“Do you think she’s enjoying it?” His other hand comes to your chin, pulling your face to look at him.

“What?” You try to look away from his eyes, the heated stare overwhelming you in your current flustered state, but his grip tightens forcing you to stare straight into his piercing brown eyes.

“Do you think that girl is having fun?” His lips curl into an alluring smile when he sees your slightly panicked state, releasing his hand from your chin, but not before quickly letting his thumb dart over your cheek.

You force yourself to maintain the contact, his dark gaze pulling you deeper into your thoughts and he offers you a smile that too closely resembles a smirk. You curse the heat growing between your legs at just the sight of that stupid smug look you want so badly to wipe from his face. Taking a grounding breath, you answer as if he hasn’t affected you at all. 

“Yeah I mean she’s moaning like a pornstar so it can’t be that bad.” 

He turns back to the screen nodding slowly, his lips pursed. “Well this guy is clearly not experienced.” 

You look back to the screen, questioning it for yourself. You guess you haven't really been paying attention to the details. It’s funny how anything slightly erotic just shuts off the brain, causing it to act like a horny sex zombie.

“Yeah this guy has no idea what he’s doing.” He states again, an air of confidence in his tone that amuses you. 

“Oh really? And you’ve got it all figured out right?”

“Well yeah.” He quips back.

You can’t help the laugh that trills out. All guys think the same; they all think they’re the best in bed, and they all think they make their girl cum when really… they never have.

“What, you don’t believe me?” A stupid grin paints his face and he pokes your cheek, making them instantly flame.

“No Jake, I don’t think you could please a woman any better than this guy.” You point to the small screen again, rolling your eyes.

“Oh reallyyy.” He drags out the last syllable as he sits up to face you.

You turn to him, cutting your eyes at his sneering face. He reaches for the bottle of vodka on the coffee table, taking a swig straight from the bottle. You force your eyes away from his bobbing adam's apple as the liquid goes down. He doesn’t even wince.

“I could make a girl cum with just my fingers.”

You roll your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmness that has made its way to your cheeks. When you look back to Jake, you can tell that he’s made no joke, no silly remark. He’s being serious.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“I could prove it to you.”

You let out a slow shaky breath after realizing you had been holding it in. You extend your hand to reach for the bottle. Taking a generous swing of the burning liquid, you return your attention to the man in front of you.

“You could prove it to me?”

“I bet I could make you cum with just these.” He holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air.

“Bullshit.”

“You really don’t believe me huh Lovey? You’ve never heard what they say about guitarists?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

His voice is low, dripping with sex and his tongue comes out licking a slow line along his bottom lip. He smirks when he notices you staring. And god, that little nickname, what used to seem so innocent now having a playful bite.

“I bet I could make you cum three times with just my fingers.” He holds them up again, reaching out to touch your face. You jump back and he laughs at you.

He stares at you, waiting for a response. Your mind is racing along with your heart. There’s no way he’s being serious… but the look on his face tells you otherwise. He raises his eyebrows again in question.

“Is that a bet?”

“Maybe it is… and you know I never lose.”

He’s referring to his competitiveness by nature. It’s true that as long as you've known him, he won’t stand losing. It’s a part of being a Kiszka you’ve figured out by now. They always bend the rules in their favor, making sure they’re on the winning side of whatever bet, whatever contest. 

“I don’t think you’re winning this one Jakey.” You mean for it to come off as condescending but the second you hear the words come out of your mouth you wish to pull them back in. You can tell he’s taken them as an even further challenge as his eyebrows raise in question.

He leans forward on the couch, planting his hands on his knees until you can feel his breath.

“Well I wouldn’t lose, but just to humor you, I’ll bet you whatever you want.”

A low tingle has formed inside your stomach. A familiar feeling - the anxious excitement. The thrill of the flirt, although you still can’t tell just how playful it is, and that thought alone makes you want to hurl or pounce on him, you still haven’t decided. 

“I get whatever I want?” For some reason, confidence is building inside you. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you - so sure of himself that you have no choice but to match the energy. Or maybe it’s because deep down, you know you want whatever he’s thinking of giving to you.

He gives you a slow nod, smiling again at your new slightly eager tone.

“I want you to admit that you’re not some guitar god, you’re just another guy. You need to stop acting so full of yourself, you need to be humbled.”

He laughs again, a genuine laugh that reminds you of your best friend, although it doesn’t seem that’s the person sitting in front of you right now.

“Sure y/n, and if I win, you have to call me ‘The Sex God.’ ”

The nervous laughter bubbles out of you as you cast your eyes to your feet. The worst part of this is that he’s acting like such a douchebag, but you don’t hate it. In fact you find yourself wanting to know what it’s like to sleep with the sex god, as stupid as it sounds.

“Why do you want to so bad Jakey?”

“Well first of all, don’t act like you don’t want to, I can see it written all over your face. You forget I know you better than anyone. And second, don’t act so naive.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, simultaneously nervous and excited for the answer.

“I love you and care about you, so much, you’re my best friend, but don’t act like we’re above all that. We’ve kissed before y/n, you really think we’d never go farther?”

“Well… I’m not really sure. I guess the thought crossed my mind… maybe I thought it would happen eventually.”

Your own confession slightly shocks you, but as soon as you say the words aloud, nothing has ever made more sense. You look back to him and he looks almost proud of you, and it makes you want to jump into his arms and suck the praise right out of him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles again, flashing you all his teeth, making your heart melt all over again.

“Come on, don’t overthink it.” 

He starts to stand up, making the whole situation seem very, very real. You close your eyes for a moment, just in case this is some sort of dream, but when you open them, you’re even more sure that this is what you want. You want him. You want your best friend, and as wrong as it might be, it's the truth.

He extends his hand, a simple gesture, an invitation, and you take it, letting him lead you into unknown waters.

He pulls you in front of him, letting you lead the way to the room you’ve slept in a million times. His hands meet your hips as you walk, the touch feeling searing hot and trickling down until you can feel the wetness between your legs.

Your mind is simultaneously racing and completely empty. How is it that an act so forbidden could feel so right? So simple?

The curtains are pulled back on the window allowing a sliver of moonlight to poke into the room. Aside from that, the lights are off and you almost ask him to turn them on but then decide it’s probably for the best.

Once he reaches the bed, he turns to face you and his features start to come into view as your eyes adjust to the darkness. He wears a smug grin as he extends his hand for you to grab once more. He sits on the bed, shuffling backwards as you grab his hand, letting him pull you to meet him. 

He rests his body along the headboard and you crawl closer, stilling in front of him on your knees, unsure of your next move. Thankfully he does the thinking for you.

“Turn around.”

Without second guessing it, you turn around so that your back is to him, and impatiently, he pulls your hips back, reminding you of his strength so that you rest, slotted in between his extended legs, back flush against his chest.

Taking a deep breath, you allow yourself to melt into his touch, after all, it is familiar. Your head lays back in the crook of his neck and his lips ghost over your ear.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and sends a shiver down your spine. Without saying a word you lift up your arms and allow him to slide off the thin fabric. Having chosen to skip the bra this morning, your chest springs free to which he hums in approval. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Carefully, his fingers slide against your skin, trailing along the top of your breast before kneading into the soft skin. He emits a low growl in your ear as your back arches, chasing his touch.

Before he has the chance to ask, you lift your hips off the bed to slide your pants down, along with the lacey panties you had chosen this morning - such a shame he isn’t able to see them. Upon your eager initiative, Jake grants you a kiss to the exposed flesh of your neck, traveling up to whisper in your ear.

“Good girl.”

The proximity of his voice, the words he speaks, the rush of it all makes you utter a small moan that doesn’t go unnoticed. He seems to suck it in along with the small mark he makes just below your ear. You savor the feeling of his wet mouth on you, hoping it never leaves as his hand starts to slide down your stomach.

Your legs part for him as his hand reaches your mound, stilling there, garnering anticipation that makes you hold your breath, releasing it when he slides an inch further.

Finally, like the first gasp you take upon emerging from water, his fingers slide over your clit to your entrance to gather up the evidence of your arousal. A small moan is muffled through your gritted teeth as his fingers slide through you, he laughs against your ear. 

“All this for me?”

His breath tickles you and in an act that makes your head spin, he sucks gingerly on your earlobe while plunging his middle and ring finger deep inside you. The sudden pressure causes your head to push back even further as you arch away from him. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back to meet his chest as his fingers push in even deeper, testing the limits of your tight walls.

Whines and moans surpass your lips as his fingers start to curl inside you, pulling in and out as they tuck in. Have his fingers always been this thick? This heavy? Watching him play guitar they always seemed so nimble but now, now you aren’t so sure. 

The mere stretch of only two of them makes you wonder what it would feel like to have a third, a fourth or perhaps to have his cock instead. How it would feel stretching you out even further.

With his hand picking up a steady rhyme, his lips are back on you, biting and licking their way up to your ear to whisper sweet praises. He moves back to the skin of your shoulder, marking you in a way that may make you feel ashamed tomorrow, but today, all you feel is the pure ecstasy he’s supplying you with.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“Good.” You manage to choke out, hardley comprehending what he’s saying as his fingers jolt inside of you.

“Just keep on feeling, I'll get you there.”

He licks a stripe up to the skin behind your ear, circling it there as you push your head deeper into his touch. Your legs start to tremble, feeling as if the pleasure is too much while being not nearly enough. The slow build starts in your stomach and travels to your chest, tightening while your muscles contract, flowing to your toes as they gently curl and flex. 

“That’s it, just give it up baby.”

Your moans become sporadic and in mere seconds you feel almost there, except he slows his fingers down to which you whine in protest. His low gravely laughter hits the shell of your ear going straight to your core as he picks the pace back up, reminding you of how close you were.

Your hips arch away from him again but this time his hand travels to the flesh of your breast, squeezing and pulling you back to him. It almost hurts as his fingers pinch around your nipple, but at the same time, pain feels like a foreign concept entirely. You scoot back too, feeling his rock solid cock threatening to burst from his pants. You want to see it, want to touch it, taste it. However your thoughts are cut off when it finally explodes inside of you.

You can’t hear the sounds you’re making as your legs thrash against the sheets, head turning and arching as his fingers work away inside of you. It washes you over, seeming like it has no end, making you feel like this was the best decision you’ve ever made. 

However as soon as it starts, it slows, letting you still feel the pleasant buzz as your legs calm down, still twitching and jolting with every slowed movement of his strong fingers.

“Number 1.”

He hums in your ear. He sounds amused, like you're only a toy he gets the pleasure of playing with, however you have no problem with that if it means you get to feel like this.

“Can you give me another?” He poses it as a question, but you know it's really a demand.

His fingers don’t stop inside you, threatening to pull you into overstimulation as they continue to deliciously curl inside. You turn your face to his, whining against his lips which he presses into yours, for just a split second before pulling back - like he regrets the action, however you don’t have enough time to process it.

The fizzling orgasm picks back up, this time coming from deeper within, almost sizzling white hot, making your legs shake even harder. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s coming. Bubbling up slower so that you hope it can be over with, to save you from the burning anticipation. 

“Jake I- I can’t… it’s too much.”

“No it isn’t, just relax, feel it. You’re so close, let me have it, I want it.”

Fuck. The greed he so shamelessly emits. The greed for you, for your cum. It’s enough to make your mind go blank as you force yourself to just feel the feelings he’s giving you. 

He pushes his hand back so that the crook of his thumb rubs against your clit with every drag of his fingers. One of two swipes and you’re rocking your hips into his them, chasing the feeling as it washes you over again.

His name falls from your lips until it’s the only word you know, and in the far distance you can hear his own struggling moans of pleasure, his own ragged breathing as you tremble against him.

When it becomes too much, your legs shut around his hand, but his feet lock over your ankles, pulling your legs apart and overpowering them with his weight until you’re spread even wider while his hand finishes the job. 

Finally, before you would have fallen into the waters of bliss, drowned forever, his hand slows and fingers gently slide out of you. You watch them, glistening with the moonlight as they rest on your heaving stomach. 

Your legs are still open as they jolt and shudder. A single nip is given to your neck before a kiss is placed in its spot. “You did so good for me, so so good.”

A small smile makes its way across your face, although he can’t see it. You want to find the right words to let him know how good he can make you feel, better than anyone else, but your lack of words must do for now. You can’t help yourself as you turn your face to tuck into his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

His other hand pets your hair as you take a few deep breaths, grounding yourself. Before you’ve barely regained your footing, his hand is drifting lower, you can feel the wetness it leaves in its path before a single digit circles your swollen clit. You yelp in surprise as it presses in further. You bite the skin of his neck, listening and reveling in the hiss he makes that flows out of him like a soft whine. It’s delectable and reignites that flame inside you.

“Can you give me number 3?” He whispers to you, like he’s scared to wake you even though you’re far from asleep. You give a slow nod and pick your face up to watch his soaked fingers drag further down your slit until three of them tease at your entrance. 

You bite your bottom lip as they start to slide in, stretching you with every inch, stinging in the perfect way when he pushes them deeper in, relying on a little force to press them all the way in. A chokes out moan struggles out of you, filling the room in a way that should make you feel ashamed, but in this moment, you feel nothing of the sort. 

Once his fingers reach in as far as they'll go, he wastes no time in picking up a merciless pace. It's hard to even register the speed as they pump in and out, filling you up in the most satisfying way you’ve ever experienced.

His mouth is on you again. Hot. Wet. And strong as he licks and sucks with no real purpose, only to satisfy his needs through watching you like this.

“Cum for me Lovey, make me win, I wanna watch it come out of you, soak my hand even more. Come on, let me have it… fuck Lovey…”

It’s something about that stupid nickname falling from his lips so desperately as his dominant demeanor falters, showing you his true need for you. It’s not hard to give it up as it builds faster than before. It feels like it springs out of nowhere until you're screaming into the otherwise quiet room. You’ll surely get strange looks walking from his apartment in the morning, but it doesn't matter, nothing matters. You feel on fire, perfect, fulfilled.

His teeth drag along your skin as your head thrashes in the crook of his neck, legs threatening to break free from his grasp as he struggles to hold you there. His hand works relentlessly as you moan and whine while your hands twist into the sheets, toes curling, eyes rolling back as you lose sense of the world around you.

His other hand snakes down to tease over your sensitive clit as his teeth bite into the flesh of your neck. Your whole body is numb the second he touches you there. The white hot pleasure is enough to make you cease to exist. You’re just a body floating in a colorless void with sounds in the distance you aren’t sure you're making. 

His voice raises in volume until it breaks through your void, allowing you to hear him. He’s choking on his words through a cloud of lust, “Come on Lovey, you can give me one more, give me number 4.” It sounds like he’s never wanted something more in his life. Sounds like he needs it more than you do. His voice is quivering through painted breaths as his hands move even faster, working you with perfect opposition. 

His tongue darts out, licking into your ear before teeth come to bite around your earlobe, enough to make it sting, enough to make you want more. And then it burst out of you. The only sense - touch, the warmness seeping in from under you. Your legs threaten to break the bed as they break free from Jake’s grasp, clenching around his hands that show no sign of stopping. 

You feel it around your legs too, the warmness, the flow, the wetness. His breath is on your neck again, you can hear him moaning into your ear. 

“That’s it Lovey, good girl, good girl baby. Just give it up, come on, that’s it, soak me, yeah just like that…”

A few more seconds and he slows his movements down until your legs fall from around his hands. They lay defeated on the bed as he removes his fingers from you. Your chest is heaving up and down as you come back to earth to find a dark spot sitting on the bed beneath you.

When you realize what it is you cast your eyes away, hiding once more in the crook of his neck, but he sits you up taller to pull your face away.

“What's wrong y/n?”

You don’t answer, don't speak. There's nothing you could possibly say to him, that is until you meet his eyes, once dark with lust now turned sweet, and you can almost see them shine in the moonlight.

For some reason, in this moment, the air of seriousness breaks and your face erupts in laughter. It doesn’t take much for him to join in and soon you’re laughing together, just like old times, but it doesn't feel wrong. Not in the slightest.

“I’ve never done that before.” You finally speak up, looking back to the ruined sheets.

“Well that. Was easily the hottest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.” “Really?”

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

You stare at him for a moment, letting yourself blush and smile as he repeats the action. The sweet moment is short lived however when he turns it back to the bet.

“So if making you cum 3 times makes me the Sex God… then what does 4 times make me?”

“Oh shut the fuck up Jake.”

“Well I won the bet. You better uphold your side of the deal.”

You stare at him angrily before muttering under your breath, but of course that isn’t enough for him. His smile, despite being covered by shadows, lights up the room with his pride, flowing off of him like sex.

“You’re The Sex God.”

“What was that? Couldn’t really hear you.”

“You’re The fucking Sex God Jake, I swear to god if you make me say it one more time.”

“Okay thank you. I’m satisfied. By the way, do you want to put some clothes on?”

You look down, blushing once more at your exposed skin. Before you even have time to have any shred of decency to cover yourself up, he's lifting his shirt up and handing it to you. You thank him and slide it over your body before stealing a quick glance to his smooth chest. You quickly look back up to his smirking face, and roll your eyes once more.

“Oh uh by the way.. I know this isn’t the best timing but uhh I don’t have any extra sheets so we’re gonna have to sleep on the couch…”

.

.

.

.

Part 2

[animeshotsh]

Let me show you Crazy - Various x Jinx!Reader

Warnings: Jinx is a complex character herself. Im only using a small part of her personality to write this small piece. There is not connection to the events of arcane.

HH Violence - Cursing - Various!xReader - Platonic - Mentions of mental breakdown - Hallucinations - Past Abuse - Vaggie seems bad but she wishes the best -

The normal red sky of hell was tainted in blues and purples as laugh filled up the streeets.

Sinner who knew better took a step aside as bullet flew past them.

The target?

No one in particular.

You were just bored, and the voices kept whispering to you, if you closed your eyes silouhets of now nameless faces would appear.

Thats why you needed this.

Cherri will for sure be pissed at you for have not inviting her to your little outbrust, but hell was alywas up for another bombing so you were not so worried over it.

Just as the last bombs exploted and your gun was hot from shooting you decided to stop and find a place for the night, your hideout was too far away now to go back.

--------

You entered Angel Dust aparment without a problem, all his pink colors made you want to puke but you hold back, soon his little pet came to welcome you, seeing you as a parent figure of sorts.

Even if you have joked that you could made some good meat with it.

"Hey, who is the bitch that-" Angel stopped his cursing and lowered his guns seeing you.

"Oh, hey Spidy" You joked seeing his pet go back to him.

"(Y/N), I thought these were your bombs"

"Hell yeah they were" you responded, passing by him and getting onto his bed. "Had a sweet time shooting these fuckers off"

"Yeah...thanks for the invitation" Angel joked back getting on the side of the bed. He knew how unestable you could be, but he could figure when you were out having fun and when you just needed to be out.

Maybe his way to cope with trauma was sex, yours was violence, this was hell, everyone did what they could.

"I thought you were being re made Spidy, the Princess got a nice place? I might just crash there next time"

Angel had to sight to himself imagining the chaos you would make, not only that, you would for sure make Alastor lose his cool the second you set foot into the hotel.

"Yeah well, you get a room, food, all free, i think you should try it" Angel said seeing you play with your hair. Now he did think you should try it, maybe it could help you, maybe you could get better.

"Uh, it seems too good to be true" You responded looking past Angel to nameless figures now behind him, one of them biting Angels neck and the other one just staring at the roof.

"N-no, i dont need help. Hey! shut up, who said that i was considering it? NO!! IM NOT WEAK" Angel stood aside as you passed by his aparment, your hands on your hair pulling pieces of it, talking to things that were not there. "SHUT UP, YOU KNOW NOTHING".

"(Y/N)...." Angel tried when he saw you fall to your knees, memories of a terrible past revealing itself to you.

"I SAID, SHUT UP" Angel found himself with a gun to his face. Your gun, with trembling hands, you were not looking at him but at someone else, someone who had hurt you at some point.

Angel had to thank whatever was above him by his agility, because not a second later you shoot to now an empy space. He quickly moved to take the gun from you and get you in a hold.

"Shh, its me, Angel Dust, remember? Its me, your friend, you little blue flare, you got nothing to be scared of" Angel told you half screaming, and having just enough emotion in his voice to break you from your episode.

"Angel?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"Are you real?" You asked not knowing what was going on anymore, Angel felt his eyes tear up as he let go of you to hug you properly.

"Of course Im you idiot, why do you want to be alone so much?"

You did not respond, these were the few times your mind was quiet. No voices, no images, just the present, you still did not know if he was real, if he was talking to you, or if he was other one of your friends.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" Angel asked easily picking you up and taking you to his bed.

"I- I dont want to be alone" was all you said as he pulled the blankets up to you and took your hand in his.

"You wont"

-------------

"Do you know who that is?" Vaggie asked pointing at you and Angel. You were looking at everything in the loby of the hotel with Angel trying to keep you in check.

"Yes, they are a sinner who needs help" Charlie responded her girlfriend also looking at your somehow childish behaviour.

"Thats Jinx, is one of the most unestable and unpredictable sinners from the circle, and thats is something to say with how many we got"

"Vaggie, I offer salvation to anyone, I dont care who they are as long as they want to be saved"

"And you think they want to be saved?" Vaggie asked somehow exasperated by now.

Before Charlie could respond you appear besides her, giving her a crushing hug.

"I must say Princess, Spidy said this place was neat but he did not mention it was this good, where is my room? oh! can i decor it? I love blue you see, and I paint, you wanna see some of them? SHH, WHO SAID SHE WONT LIKE IT?"

"Jinx!!" Charlie said not noticing you almost having another episode but pulling you right back into the hug. "Yes! of course you can decorate, and i would love to see your art"

This made you smile, taking her hand and pulling her towards a near table where your stuff was.

"Can my room be besides Spidy?"

Charlie just nodded already exploring your odd draws.

-------

"I need to talk with you" Vaggie said, not happy to have come to this but seeing it as necesary.

"Oh? and what will you need from me?" Alstor asked smirking at her.

"Jinx, if she does something to hurt Charlie or the hotel purpose..."

"What?" Alastor knew what Vaggie wanted, and knew who you were. True to be told, he did not like you being in the hotel, you could ruin everything, but he also liked a good show, and that needed good characters, and you were for sure one hell of one. So he could let you stay and watch you and your actions.

"...Stop them, however you need to do it" Was all Vaggie said. Now wanting to listen to Alastor moral speech she went back to her and Charlies room.

Now, Alastor would not let himself be ordered like that ny anyone, but he knew Vaggie wishes and his own reasons did aline this time. He will let it pass, and maybe use it for the future.

If Charlie knew Vaggie was going behind her back, telling Alastor to dispose of troublemaker sinners....well she would be heartbroken.

[hyrule-in-a-pokeball]

THE MODERN DESCENDANTS OF THE ZONAI

In my last post I explained how the game tells us that the Zonai came to Hyrule from somewhere else, and eventually disappeared, leaving just two Zonai behind.

There are only two possible explanations for why they disappeared.

1: They went back to where they came from. Pretty simple. 2: They died out. This is the possibility we'll be looking at.

There are two forms of extinction. Extinction as you probably know it, in which the species just dies out, and "Pseudoextinction" in which the species dies out, but in doing so has given rise to an entirely new species, either through evolution or mass breeding with a compatible species.

We know that Hylians and Zonai were sexually compatible, as Rauru; a Zonai, married Sonia; a Hylian, and started what would become the Hyrule royal family. Though never seen in game, they have surely reproduced by the time Zelda is sent back in time, as she is their descendant, both of their unique magical abilities, light and time, residing within her.

Another potential example of Zonai/non-zonai breeding is the nameless ancient hero, who appears to be Zonai, but his unique Zonai features are somewhat diminished, even lacking the Zonai's third eye entiely.

Oh yeah, Zonais have 3 eyes. Forgot to mention that. Its actually pretty important. The Zonai certainly think it is. The Zonai 3rd eye is very prominent in their artwork and fashion, and in armor and clothing made by Zonai to be worn by non-zonai, importance is given to this region of the head

In fact, when Ganondorf obtains a sage's stone, he places it on his forehead, possibly to mark himself as an equal to the Zonai, a people who the land dwellers once saw as gods. But getting back to the subject at hand here... What if the Hyrulean royals and the nameless ancient hero aren't the only examples of Zonai/Hylian interbreeding?

Here we see Rauru, a pure-blooded Zonai male His hair is naturally white, and he has a 3rd eye in the middle of his forehead. The eye is adorned with gold around the edges of the eyelid. When opened, and couple with the marking on the ridge of his nose, the 3rd eye takes on a very familiar appearance

Do you see it?

Here let me just...

Do you see it now?

I don't believe that the Zonai returned to their own world. I don't believe that all but two of them got sick and kicked all their buckets. I believe that the Zonai interbred with local Hylians to the point that the Zonai themselves, who likely already had a smaller population than the Hylians, vanished, and after further generations of breeding with more pure-blood Hylians, a new type of Hylian almost completely lacking Zonai features rose up in their place, co-existing with regular Hylians. I believe that group to be none other than...

The Sheikah. The importance placed on their bizarre eye symbol. The way their leaders wear that symbol in the center of their foreheads, representing a 3rd eye, which we now know is a literal trait of Zonai. Their penchant for advanced technology. The naturally white hair from birth, and the unusually long life spans despite being classified as Hylians*. I believe strongly that the Sheikah are the closest living descendants of the Zonai. This could also explain why the Sheikah are so dedicated to the Hyrulean royal family, because at its deepest roots, the royal family is as much Zonai as it is Hylian.

*In character logs, Sheikah are listed as "Hylian (Sheikah)" indicating that they're an ethnic group and not a separate race.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Not Yours, Never Was

Pairing: Tom Bennett x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Jealousy. Violence. Eventual smut. Word count: ~4k

Summary: She's been friends with Tom since childhood. When he returns to Manchester, following his escape from France, they become something more. The problem with Tom is that he's never quite willing to define what "more" actually is. Based on this request.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Tom rolls off of her, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he gasps for breath. One arm snakes around her shoulders as she cuddles against his chest, while the other reaches for his cigarettes on the bedside table.

She basks in the closeness, a satisfying ache between her thighs, knowing the moment is almost at its end. She listens to the click of the lighter, inhaling softly through her nose as a waft of smoke fills her nostrils with its familiar scent.

Then come the words she's been dreading.

"You should probably push off home, love, Lois will be back soon." 

She nods, rising from the bed and beginning to dress. It's been this way ever since he came home.

Her and Tom had grown up living opposite each other on the same street. He'd teased her mercilessly, as boys will do to girls, but they'd always been friends. She'd felt sick with worry when he'd joined the navy, and her heart had broken when his father, Douglas, had told her he'd been reported as MIA in Dunkirk.

The day he'd returned to Castlefield had felt like a dream. He'd ducked in through the open back door while she was in the kitchen making tea and she'd dropped the teapot in shock when she caught sight of him. It had shattered upon the tiled floor, but it didn't seem to matter, not when he stood there with that lopsided smirk of his plastered across his gorgeous face.

Wordlessly they'd closed the gap, kissing each other hungrily, silent outpourings of I missed you expressed with every tender touch and caress.

From that point onwards they had seized every opportunity to be together. On the nights that her dad was on late shifts at the factory, she'd leave the lamp on for Tom in her bedroom window, a signal that it was safe for him to come up; her mum had always been a sound sleeper. In turn, she'd go to his house whenever Douglas and Lois weren't home.

She understood the need for privacy. Tom shared a room with his sister and she still lived with her parents, none of whom would appreciate them fornicating under the same roof. However, as the months had slipped by, it occurred to her that she and Tom had never actually been on a proper date, let alone been seen in public together.

"You know, Tommy," She says, as she finishes buttoning her blouse. "There's a dance at the Wharf on Saturday, to celebrate the rest of the troops coming home."

"Yeah, I saw," He replies, rubbing his brow and taking another drag of his cigarette. "My old man brought a leaflet home from his rounds the other day."

"Thought it might be nice if we went together?" She offers with a bright smile.

Tom's eyebrows raise as his eyes widen, and he exhales smoke through his nose. "Oh, I dunno about that, love. Probably not a good idea."

She feels her heart lurch and quickly looks away, not wanting him to see how badly his words have affected her. "Right. Well, I'll see you around."

She rises from the bed, walking towards the door, and he calls after her.

"Oi! No goodbye kiss then?"

Her hand pauses on the doorknob and she responds without turning to look back at him. "Probably not a good idea."

Once safely back in her own room, she swipes angrily at the tears she’s been fighting to hold back since she left Tom’s room.

They’d never established what their relationship was, the transition from friends to more than that had happened too suddenly for such a discussion to ever occur, but it hurt to know she was nothing more than an easy fuck to him. She’d known him all her life, so it wasn’t unreasonable for her to assume she meant something to him. But with a simple refusal of her offer to go to the dance together he’d proven she didn’t, perhaps she never had.

She wonders if it’s a case of him being ashamed to be seen with her, or that he simply doesn’t care for her enough to entertain her company outside of the bedroom. She isn’t sure which upsets her more, thinking about either causes a dull throb in her chest and a lump in her throat.

Pushing the thoughts away, she readies herself for her evening shift at The Oxnoble. The pub is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday evening when she arrives, but it’s been that way most evenings since the war ended, the mood is jubilant. She wishes she shared the sentiment. 

She deposits her coat and bag in the back room before moving between tables to collect the empties. After an hour or so of pulling pints and chatting to punters, she finds her spirits lifting. Work serves as a welcome distraction to thinking about Tom Bennett.

“Was wondering when you’d finally crack a smile.”

She looks up as she closes the till to see Joe Broughton leaning over the bar, his soft brown eyes focused on her.

“Sorry, my mind’s been elsewhere this evening.” She says apologetically. “What can I get you?”

He holds up his half finished lager. “I’m alright, actually. Just wanted to say hello. You going to the Wharf on Saturday?”

The smile fades from her face. “No, giving that a miss.”

Joe frowns. “Why? Ted won’t let you have the night off?”

She shakes her head. “No one to go with.”

“Go with me!” He says a little too enthusiastically, his face flushing with embarrassment when he realises how eager he sounds. “I mean…if you want to, that is. Seems a shame for a pretty girl like you to miss out.”

She’s not surprised by Joe’s offer. She has always suspected he’s sweet on her, but until now has been too wrapped up in Tom to pay any mind to him. Tom’s no longer in the picture though. Joe’s kind hearted, tall, dark and handsome, and clearly has no qualms about them being seen together. He is everything Tom’s not. She'd be foolish to turn him down, so she doesn’t.

“I’d love to.” She tells him.

Joe beams with happiness, draining his glass and sliding the empty across to her. “See you on Saturday then.” He grins. “Pick you up at seven?”

She nods, collecting his glass and returning his wave as he pushes through the crowd and out through the pub door.

When she gets home that night her mum is already asleep, and her dad’s at the factory working the late shift. Automatically, her hand moves to the lamp to switch it on and she has to stop herself. She deflates when she realises what she’s about to do, sinking heavily onto the edge of the bed. There’d be no more secret signals for Tom to climb in through the window, not anymore.

The next few days pass quietly, though she has to make a conscious effort not to think of Tom. She does her best not to look through the window to watch for when Lois and Douglas leave. That would usually be when she’d slip across the road and knock at the front door, giggling as he opens it and leans against the doorframe with a smirk. His blue eyes would rake over her, before beckoning her inside. Not anymore. She doesn’t see Tom at all, and her lamp stays firmly off for the rest of the week too.

She stands in front of the full length mirror in the hallway on Saturday evening, taking in her appearance. She’s applied a layer of rouge to her lips, carefully curled her lashes and set her hair into a style that doesn’t disrupt the work of the rollers that she’s been wearing for most of the day. Her blush pink dress accentuates her curves, nipping in at the waist, with an a-line skirt that stops at her mid thigh. The red of her heels matches the colour of her lips.

As she smooths her hands over her outfit, she can’t help but wonder what Tom would make of it. She has to remind herself that it’s another man that will appreciate the effort she’s made for this evening, and not him. She hates the way her heart sinks at the thought.

Joe’s eyes widen when he takes in the sight of her as she opens the door to him. “You look…wow…you look fantastic.”

She grins, grabbing her coat and stepping out onto the street beside him. “You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.” She says appreciatively, noticing his slicked back hair and starched shirt collar. 

The dance hall at the Wharf is packed by the time they arrive. Red, white and blue bunting hangs from the ceiling and a live band is in the middle of a Glenn Miller cover, with most people already paired off and dancing. Joe gets them both a drink, before leading her out to the centre of the floor.

As Joe spins and twirls her she can’t help but think about how wrong it all feels. The sensation of her hand in his, his palm at the dip of her waist, it’s so different to the way Tom touches her. Her skin doesn’t tingle in the wake of Joe’s fingertips brushing against it, her heart doesn’t flutter when she looks into his eyes. When he pulls her close his scent is unfamiliar, not the heady mixture of tobacco and spearmint that she’s come to know, to love.

Her breath hitches when she looks over and sees Tom through the crowd. The intensity of his stare is palpable even in the dimly lit hall, and fixed upon her and Joe. She doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks as he looks at them. He’s made no effort, wearing the same jumper and slacks he always has on, yet still managing to look effortlessly handsome. It irritates her. She wonders who he’s here with and has to force herself to look away, not wanting to know, grimacing at the jealousy that blooms hot and acrid within her.

Focusing her attention back on the man she’s here with, she gazes up at him as the band switches to an instrumental cover of a Vera Lynn song. The atmosphere shifts considerably as the couples around them begin to slow dance.

Panic races through her, her mouth running dry and her heart thundering wildly as Joe starts to lean in. For a moment she is tempted to give in, a bid to forget about Tom once and for all, but at the last moment she decides she can’t. She doesn’t want to. She turns her head and Joe’s lips graze her cheek instead. As her eyes flicker upwards she notices that Tom has gone.

“Joe…do you think you could take me home? I’m not feeling well.” She says, not missing the disappointment that washes over his features.

The walk home is awkwardly silent and she’d feel bad for giving Joe false hope were it not for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Tom, who he’s with and what he’s doing.

Her curiosity is sated when they reach her front door and she sees Tom burst out of his, moving across the road towards them with purpose.

It happens too quickly for her to comprehend fully, as Tom’s fist makes brutal impact with Joe’s face, knocking him backwards. “You kissed her! You fucking kissed her!” He shouts at him, and she feels fury well up inside of her.

Stepping between them, she shoves Tom away. “Stop it!”

“Why?!” He spits back angrily. “You shagging him too?!”

Her eyes well up as Tom’s words bite into her. She spares a glance at Joe, before speaking to him. “Would you mind leaving us, please? I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.” He says stiffly, glaring at the pair of them before stalking off back down the street.

When she looks back at Tom, he appears sheepish, almost regretful, but she can’t find it in herself to forgive him. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of order…”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” She shouts back, her tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheeks. “You had no right to do that. I’m not yours, I never was!”

His face softens, hurt flashing in his blue eyes, as he tries to speak. “Listen-”

“No, you listen!” She seethes tearfully. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be in love with someone that’s ashamed of you?! I can’t keep wasting my life, hoping one day I’ll be more than just a means for you to get your leg over. I don’t want to see you anymore, Tom. Leave me alone.”

She leaves him standing in the street as she goes inside, slamming the door behind her. She’s grateful that her parents aren’t home yet, otherwise she’d have copped an earful for the scene she’s just made in the middle of the road. Crying herself to sleep that night she curses her luck that she has to live opposite the man that’s broken her heart.

Her shift the next evening at The Oxnoble is quiet, most people have clearly opted for a night in after the dance the previous day. She’s grateful for it, feeling the furthest thing from being in the mood to smile at customers while she serves them drinks. She’s the only person behind the bar. The landlord, Ted, has taken advantage of the opportunity for a night off and left her with the keys, asking her to lock up come closing time. Save for a couple of older gentlemen nursing pints of bitter in the corner, the pub is empty.

She’s switching out the optic on a gin bottle when she hears the door swing open. Looking over her shoulder, she sighs, her mood instantly darkening when she sees Tom stroll in.

Propping himself on the bar, he eyes her nervously as she finishes what she’s doing and walks over to him.

“What d’you want?” She asks moodily.

“Need to speak to ya.” Comes his quiet response, long fingers flexing against the wooden surface.

“I’m working.”

“Can’t take a break?”

“Ted’s left me in charge. If you’re not here to drink then you need to leave.”

“Alright then.” He says with a shrug. “Pint of Guinness, please.”

She narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Tom, you don’t like Guinness, and it takes bloody ages to pour!”

“I know. Figured you’d spare me a few words while I wait.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a pint glass from the shelf above her head and placing it beneath the pump.

“Went to see Joe today, wanted to apologise and that, ya know, for smacking him…”

She looks up from the dark liquid that’s currently filling the glass. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s got a right shiner.” He says with a grin. It disappears as quickly as it appears when he sees the angry look on her face. “Anyway, he told me nothing happened between you two. I know you said you never wanted to speak to me again, but I was hoping you’d hear me out, just this once?”

She purses her lips, topping off his pint as it settles and passing it to him. “Told you, I’m working.”

“I can wait.” He says, sliding coins across the bar to her and taking the glass.

She has to bite back a laugh as she watches him take a sip and wrinkle his nose. “Tastes like blood.” He mutters to himself, wandering off and taking a seat at a table directly opposite the bar.

Tom has never been a man of patience and she fully expects him to get bored after an hour and leave. She’s surprised when he continues to sit there, periodically lighting up cigarettes and wincing at every sip of the stout he’s nursing.

Three hours later she rings the bell for last orders and the few customers that had occupied the pub slowly shuffle their way out, leaving her and Tom alone. He’s only half way through his drink, having spent the entire evening pulling a face at every tiny mouthful.

She takes pity on him, bolting the doors and then leaning against the billiards table. “Go on then, I’m listening.”

He rises from his seat, walking slowly towards her, almost like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly she’ll change her mind.

“Did you mean what you said? You’re in love with me?”

She feels heat rush to her cheeks and looks away. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You don’t feel the same way.”

“Are you fucking joking?” He says, a tinge of irritation in his tone. “Would I have just sat for four hours choking down a pint of that shit, waiting for you to give me the time of day, if I wasn’t crazy about you? Give your head a wobble!”

She attempts to swallow around the lump that’s forming in her throat, her voice strained as she speaks. “We only meet up in secret and when I asked about the dance you said no. It feels like-”

“I’m ashamed of you?” He stands in front of her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Never. You mean everything to me. Thinking about coming home to you was all that got me through when I was laying in that hospital bed in Paris. Couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing that you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then why?” Her voice cracks, her eyes are glassy as she stares up at him.

Tom draws in a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve never been worthy of you, love. I might have come back from France a hero, but what about when all that dies down and I go back to just being Tom Bennett, the lad that’s always in trouble with the coppers? What will people say about you, if they know I’m your fella? You don’t deserve that.”

“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide?”

“I know that now.” He says, leaning his forehead against hers “Last night, I knocked to ask you to go to the dance with me and when no one answered I figured you’d already be there. Wasn’t expecting to see you there with Joe and it pissed me off. I know that’s selfish, but you’re mine.”

He presses his lips to hers and she melts into it, her resolve crumbling with embarrassing rapidity as her mouth moves with his. Her fingers work their way into the softness of his dirty blonde hair as his tongue slips into her mouth, working against her own as his large hands cup her face.

“Mine.” He whispers as he pulls away, making her gasp as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Does Joe make you feel this good?” He asks, working open the buttons of her blouse, slipping a hand inside to squeeze at her through her brassiere.

“No.” She whines. “Just you, Tommy, just you.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks, lifting her by the backs of legs to sit on the billiards table.

He captures her lips in another searing kiss, pushing her skirt up to her hips.

“N-not here, we can’t.” She whimpers, pulling back.

“Door’s locked, isn’t it?” He coos at her, pulling the gusset of her underwear to the side. “Christ, you’re soaking. Is all this for me?”

She bites her lip, feeling dizzy with arousal. “Yeah, just you.”

“You gonna let me have a taste?” His eyes lock with hers, the blue barely visible with how dilated his pupils are.

Before she has a chance to respond, he’s dropped to his knees in front of her, licking a wide stripe against her folds with the flat of his tongue.

She emits a strangled cry, her hands flying to the back of his head as he groans against her, the vibration of it causing her to clench around nothing.

“Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.” He whispers between kitten licks to her bud.

She bucks her hips against his face as he feasts upon her like a man starved, the cadence of her moans growing unsteady as a familiar tightness coils within her lower belly.

“You close, darlin’?” He smirks up at her.

She’s only able to respond with a nod of her head, too far gone to trust herself to speak.

“That’s too bad.” He says, pulling away. “Wanna be buried inside of ya when that happens.”

She feels like she could cry at the loss, and her fingers fumble in their hurry to get Tom’s belt and trousers open, as he works to open the wrapper of a sheath that he’s fished out of his pocket.

Tom’s jaw goes slack, his eyes screwing shut as he pushes inside of her and she swears he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now. He stills against her once he’s bottomed out, composing himself.

“So fuckin’ tight. Whose are you?” He rasps against the shell of her ear.

“Yours.” She breathes, without hesitation.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He snarls, grasping her hips and setting a punishing pace.

She leans back, bracing herself against the table with the palms of her hands. The green felt is coarse against her skin, and she knows she’ll have friction burn from it, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

The hold he has on her is iron clad, pulling her flush against him with every jerk of his pelvis, his face buried in the crook of her neck as his belt buckle knocks against the wood with every thrust. This forceful, commanding side of him is one she’s never seen before, but she loves every second.

The slap of Tom’s skin against hers echoes through the empty pub, his grunts of exertion mingling with her breathy moans. His hand leaves her hip to palm at her breast and she can tell he’s nearing his end when as he pace begins to falter, his jaw clenching.

“Play with yourself.” He grits out. “Need you to finish with me.”

Doing as she’s told, she places her hand between her legs, circling her pearl. The added sensation serves to intensify Tom’s movements inside of her and after a few hurried strokes she finds herself tensing around him as her climax builds.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy, I’m gonna-”

Her sentence is cut off as her peak crashes over her in white hot waves of intensity, barely registering it as Tom lets go with a groan, spilling inside of the condom.

They stay like that for a few moments, leaning heavily against each other. When he eventually pulls out, and they begin to redress, there’s a part of her that worries that this is the part where he’ll make an excuse and leave, and it’ll go back to how it’s always been.

He surprises her when he begins to move around the pub, collecting up the empty glasses.

“What else needs doing before I walk you home?” He asks.

She can’t help the warm smile that spreads across her face at the gesture. “Just the ash trays.” Comes her response.

His fingers interlock with hers as they walk home in comfortable silence, the darkness lit by the cherry red ember of the end of Tom’s cigarette.

“Leave the lamp on for you tomorrow?” She says softly, once they reach her front door.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Tomorrow I’m knocking the door and taking you on a proper date.”

She grins. “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. Bag of chips and a bottle of pop, only the best for my girl.” He says with a wink, beginning to head off across the street.

“Oi!” She calls after him. “No kiss goodbye then?”

He chuckles, hurrying back to her and spinning her around in his arms as he kisses her, before setting her back down.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“And I love you, always have.” He tells her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Animato

Chapter Thirty Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Gibson Child OMC, Bobby, Annie, Victor, Charlie, both bands and roadies, nameless DJs

Word Count: 3160

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, the last of Uncle Dean for a while, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes (do not come at me for this), Kevin calling Dean out publicly but subtly.

Series Masterlist

The rapid beat of a double-stroke roll woke Dean from the haze of sleep. He cracked one eye open and found the source of the wake up call. Gibson, sitting on the floor in Dean’s suite, was wailing on the coffee table while watching a random infomercial on the hotel’s tv’s world class Sunday morning programming. At least the little dude hadn’t gotten into Dean’s guitars without asking. 

“Gibby! What gives, man?”

“Oh, sorry,” the little boy didn’t even look back, instead he lightened his efforts into a tapping from the original knocking.

Dean huffed and fell back onto his pillow, muttering to himself and the ceiling, “I guess we’re up for the day.”

They had spent the night watching old monster movies and eating pizza. Dean had even taken Gibson to the hotel’s pool for a dip before the adult only hours kicked in. He had no idea how Pam and Lee kept up with the kid on a normal day, Dean was fucking beat. And that was after he slept more than double his usual night’s rest. 

How was it after nine already?! No wonder the kid was bored.

“You hungry? Probably should see if the buffet’s still going,” Dean asked suddenly.

“Okay!” Gibson dropped his sticks on the coffee table and hopped up with the unbridled energy of youth.

“Yeah, uh, I gotta throw some real pants on, dude.” Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled his back. “Give Uncle Dean a minute and we can head down.”

Gibson nodded, but then ran to the counter in the kitchenette. “I made you coffee! They’ve got the little cups. But that was a while ago.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and surveyed the damage from his perch on the bed. “You make one for yourself?”

“Yep! It was gross. And the pink sugar didn’t help.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it is gross. White or brown are best— no matter what Uncle Sam says.”

Gibson giggled, walking carefully over to Dean with the paper cup sloshing slightly. Dean wanted to help him, but he looked so proud of himself that Dean just sat back and clenched his hands as he awaited the delivery.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean diligently took a sip. It was god awful. Cold, sure, but also really bitter and thin. Thankfully the kid didn’t think to add anything for him. He sighed and took another gulp while trying not to breathe and taste it more. “Uh—-yeah. Can’t start the day without some fuel.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, man, of course. Now, I am gonna get dressed, find your shoes so we can get some grub.”

Turned out, the continental breakfast was already being cleaned up when they got back downstairs. Gibson’s spirits dropped instantly, but Dean assured him it was alright, and took the little man over to the attached restaurant that was hopping with the brunch crowd. 

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bobby’s voice caught Dean’s attention as they rounded the corner with the hostess. “Make room. Miss— these idjits are with us, sorry they don’t have any manners about showing up on time.”

“Alright, I’ll— uh, I’ll let your server know.”

Dean had the wherewithal to murmur and hand over his thanks and apologies right in time to get a surprised smile. Kevin and Annie were on Bobby’s right while Sam and a very hungover looking Victor filled out the left side of the six person table.

“Rough night?” Dean teased.

“It aint over yet,” Victor lamented.

“Ooof! Been there, man. More bacon’ll help.”

Just then their server returned with two extra chairs and a busser slid in two extra place settings for them. “Thank you— thank you both. Seriously.”

“Of course, let me get you some menus.” Then the server disappeared in a flurry, weaving through the crowd of people in various states of dress and sobriety.

Kevin nudged Gibson with his elbow. “How was the sleepover at Dean’s? I bet he snores.”

Everyone around the table laughed.

“Bite me, Kev. Gibby, steal me one of his fries would ya?”

Gibson looked back and forth between the two men. “What?! No.”

Dean just shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“Two wrongs don’t make it alright,” Gibson told him knowingly.

“Yeah, UNCLE DEAN,” Sam butted in.

“From the mouths of babes,” Annie said, shaking her head in amusement. 

Kevin just laughed and took an obnoxious Dean-sized bite of fries.

“So— last day on tour until school’s out, what do you want to do today?” Bobby asked the star of the table.

“Is Mom and Dad awake? I want to see them ‘fore Grammy comes and gets me.”

“And you will, dude. I’m guessing they’re just up in their rooms getting dressed or something. It’s still early yet.”

“What timezone are you in?!” Bobby gave Dean the stink eye.

Dean ignored his manager and just ruffled Gibson’s hair. The menus appeared and they all settled in for another hour of each other’s company. 

        Dean knew it had to be hard for Gibson when they were on tour, he’d lived his own childhood with his dad barely there. But to have both parents out of reach for months at a time seemed worse. That’s why they made sure to give Pam and Lee breaks on the road, fly them home for three days at a time when they could. And they let Gibson come along when he didn’t have school.

It still felt like a worse case scenario though. He didn’t even have a little brother to make the days go by faster. Lee’s mom and their nanny were all he had outside of school friends. And the dogs. At least the kid got pets too.

Dean never did.

“Full House, bitches!” Charlie declared and threw her cards into the center of the table. ���Jacks over twos.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Madison exclaimed, leaning in to inspect Charlie’s hand herself. She’d tagged along with Lee’s mom down to San Diego so she could join in on the Vegas leg of the trip. 

“She always pulls it out, I swear to god. I don’t know how, but she does,” Sam muttered and tossed his hand to Dean to shuffle for the next round.

They were an hour into the trip to Vegas and the mood on the bus was contagious. No more little ears and eyes to worry about, meant that the bottles and the bongs came out and the chips were stacked high across the tiny table. 

“Alright, alright, fair hand. Get your cards in, and maybe you can win some of them stacks back. If you’re lucky,” Dean taunted, collecting the rest of cards and sliding them back into a deck to be shuffled. “Trouble? Ante up.”

You tossed your share into the pot and took another sip of your drink. Dean felt your eyes on him as he dealt, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Technically, he knew everyone was watching him as he doled the next hand, but your attention felt heavier the last few days. Maybe you knew something he wasn’t ready for you to know.

Maybe you were waiting for him to fuck up again.

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking and you weren’t really watching him at all. Either way, he was preoccupied with it all when he picked up his cards to find absolute trash.

“Oh Christ. I’m going to need more to drink. KEVIN! Another round of shots, if you don’t mind?”

You chuckled. “Dealer can’t deal to himself, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Dean muttered, not even bothering to pick up his cards again.

“More chances for the rest of us at least,” Madison pointed out and placed her call bet.

The afternoon turned into night while Bobby drove on. Games and ridiculousness ensued. Just when they stopped for dinner, Dean found himself in the playful overlap of drunk and stoned. 

He hummed a few bars of some pop number that was playing over the truckstop speakers and Kevin joined in in harmony as they trudged across the parking lot to the twenty four hour diner. Lee came in for the chorus and they started getting louder and sillier with it, doing the monkey walk with Dean in the middle of the two shorter guys.

Dean couldn’t hear the radio station any longer, but they carried it along, finishing the number strong while guessing at some of the lyrics. When everyone had reached the double doors of the restaurant, he caught you and Charlie with your phones up recording the shenanigans. Meanwhile, Sam and Madison were giggly, leaning a little heavier on one another than most people would be at just after seven at night.

“Alright, cool it you damn buffoons. Let’s see if they’ve got room for everyone,” Bobby grunted before disappearing inside.

“Looks like you guys are the fun bus!” Donna greeted, as SPS and company caught up with them.

“Just gettin’ started darlin’,” Dean drawled, nodding and smirking. “Though I doubt it’s all charades and crochet on Big Bertha over there either.”

Jody took a swig off of her flask. “Oh, fuck no. Nancy knits, but that’s about it. But that’s only when the Adderall kicks in.”

She dangled the metal bottle out towards the circle of waiting musicians in offering. Kevin and Pam both took a pull and passed it back. Then the equipment rig pulled in and the headcount shot up even more. Benny sauntered over with a knowing glint in his eye as he stepped right in between Dean and Donna. 

“We think we gettin’ in or gotta spread out to the fast food joints?”

“Hard to say, looks pretty dead in there, but that might mean there’s a small staff too,” you answered as everyone’s head craned to look inside.

“Alright, well I’m heading over to the cancer section until we hear one way or the other,” Jody nodded towards Annie and Patience smoking down the sidewalk. 

Dean perked up and followed her like an earnest puppy. He wasn’t a habitual smoker anymore, but he definitely still imbibed, especially on the road. Sam’s influence could only go so far. But oddly, you were trailing along behind him, followed by Jesse and a newer, yet awkward roadie that he’d only heard called Chief.

You actually pulled a pack out of your purse and held one out to Dean expectingly. “What?” you asked like an accusation.

“Are you just smoking because you’d knew I would be or—?”

You exhaled your first pull and offered him your lighter. “It’s been a fucking week, okay? Let me have this until we hit the states with actual vegetation and I have to deal with allergies too.”

Dean lit his cigarette nodding and blew out a smoke ring. “You don’t have to justify it to me, I was just checking I’m not the bad influence.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always a bad influence, doesn’t mean I still didn’t choose it.”

That got him a little hot, if he was being honest. And he felt his smile all the way to the tips of his ears. “Damn, Trouble. Always knocking me back on my heels, you know that?”

You took another drag and shrugged, looking around to see everyone else somehow in their own conversations. “Part of the job.”

“Nah, that parts all you.” Dean said without even meaning to.

You looked up at him and gave him a little squint. “You need to eat something or you’re gonna be miserable in a couple hours.”

“I’m trying!” He huffed, gesturing with his cigarette towards the front doors, right as Bobby made his glorious return.

“Listen up!” Bobby glanced around at the bands and accumulated crew. “They’ve only got room for thirty folks, so line up and whoever is stuck at the back’s gotta find something else. We’re pulling out of here no later than ten o’clock, so be on time or be left behind.”

You chuckled over the hard-learned line.

Dean sucked a deep pull off his cigarette, trying to speed through it and getting lightheaded in the process. 

“Uh,” he exhaled and looked over at you then over you towards the rest of businesses in the travel center. “We trying to get in or we taking a walk?”

“I’m finishing my square.” You pointed to yourself and held up your cigarette.

Dean couldn’t get over your sass tonight. “Alright, then. A walk it is.”

It ended up with Jody and Patience sticking around while you and Dean finished smoking and then all four of you headed to the Arby’s across the parking lot. 

“Alright, folks, we got a quick segment at the end to wrap things up. Phantom Traveler, are you ready to ‘Hit It or Quit It’?” the gruffer DJ asked them from his chair across the room.

They barely all fit in the little sound booth, but managed to squeeze together to make it work. Lee, Pam and Kevin were on the three stools they provided, while Dean and Sam hovered over them to get at the shared mic. It was six o’clock in the morning and Dean didn’t know if any of them had even slept. But there they were anyway.

“It is five questions we ask in rapid succession and you just say the first thing that comes to mind. And since all five of you are here, we’ll just go down the line— or clockwise I guess,” the younger DJ explained.

“I’m game!” Dean exclaimed, futsing with the ball cap on his head.

Pamela, who was holding the mic, winked. “Let’s hear ‘em, boys.”

The DJs laughed. “Alright, Pamela’s ready. First question: Who’s got the craziest ex’s of the band?”

Everyone ‘Oh’d!’.

Lee leaned in and said deeply into the mic. “I’m sitting right here!” 

“Couldn’t have planned that one any better!” Dean teased.

“Wait! I want to hear the answer though!” Kevin butted in, steering them back on track.

“NEW KID doesn’t know these things yet!” The first DJ said excitedly.

“Oh, this is too easy, though,” Pam rumbled.

“Yeah, sorry, bro, everyone knows this one,” Dean tacked on.

“Eat me,” Sam snapped back.

“But yeah, it’s Sammy for sure,” Lee agreed.

Sam rolled his eyes but the DJs just ate it up.

“Okay! Second question is—- for—- Lee! Favorite venue you’ve ever played?”

“Seriously? He gets a real question and I got a Cosmo question?” Pamela said, annoyed, but not quite into the mic.

“Seriously— I’m just reading off the list,” the younger DJ promised, holding up a clip board.

“That one’s easy— Harvelle’s back home.”

“Hands down,” Sam agreed.

“Best burgers in Nebraska, too,” Dean tacked on.

“Ellen’s gonna kill you,” Pam warned.

“Totally worth it,” Dean shot her down.

“Yeah. Nothing like playing for your hometown,” Lee finished.

“What a bunch of saps!” The older guy teased. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have it. Sam— third question: Who would you still like to collaborate with? You’ve got Annie Hawkins on the latest album, you’ve played with some of the greats at some special events— I know you all were close with the late, great Rufus Turner and now you’re touring with his granddaughter’s band Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries. Who else?”

“Uh, honestly? I’d kill to play with Sarah and Provenance, even though our sounds are totally different. Maybe Mick Davies? Especially now that he’s left Men of Letters, I am looking forward to what he works on next.”

“Wow— those are not names I expected to come up today. But, yeah, okay— always the wildcard Sam Winchester!” The younger DJ seemed genuinely surprised and maybe even impressed.

Dean could tell it annoyed Sam, but he was always way smarter than anybody gave his bodybuilder-shaped self credit for.

“DEAN! Question numero four: If you weren’t a rockstar— okay, musician– what would you be doing?”

“Right now I’d be sleeping, that’s for damn sure.”

Everyone laughed and nodded. “I don’t blame you there, but for a job?”

Dean scratched his three day stubble. “I always say I’d have made a killer mechanic or car restorer, but, uh, honestly at this point in my life I’m going to go with firefighter.”

“Nice, very heroic.” The first DJ approved.

“Dude!” Sam gave him a look that asked if he was alright.

Dean shrugged. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Just a reminder we’ve got two shows at Cesar’s Palace tomorrow night and Wednesday!” he plugged like they needed help selling tickets.

“Which are completely sold out! We’ve got tickets for our listeners tomorrow morning at seven, eight and nine if you listen for the code to play.” The younger DJ picked up where Dean left off. “One more question and you guys can get on with your days. And it’s for Kevin Tran— the newest member of the band, stepping up for the now reclusive Cas Novak. Fifth and final question!---”

Dean flinched at Cas’ name coming up, but all things considered, it could have been a much more brutal comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby whisper something to you through the glass in the adjoining room.

“In one word describe your bandmates.”

“One word total or—?”

“One word a piece,” Sam clarified.

“Yeah one word total. Band. That’d be the worst question answered ever,” the first DJ joked.

“Okay, okay, I got it. For Pam I’ll say ‘badass’. Lee’s word will be ‘groovy’. Sam gets ‘salad’ and Dean can have ‘Trouble’.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lee actually had to cover his mouth. While everyone else just about choked on their own spit. 

Dean glared at the kid, but didn’t say anything, counting down from twenty in his head.

“It is going to be a very long tour, folks,” Sam tried to ease some of the tension, clearly the DJs did not get the significance of what was just said.

“Alright that is a wrap with Phantom Traveler, in town for just a few days on the start of their latest tour. Thank you guys, it was a blast. Their fifth album drops next month. You guys have been digging the new single, so we’re gonna close with that as we get these guys on their way.”

The intro to ‘Baby’ played in the background as everyone handed over their headphones and shook the DJs' hands. Their marketing people came in for some quick publicity shots. Dean spotted you getting matching angles, where you stood behind their photographer, for the band’s socials.

God, he wasn’t ready. He had no idea if you caught what Kevin had said or if you knew he was really talking about you. The little punk had to go and say that shit on air of all places. 

One thing was for sure, Dean’s time was running out. Sooner or later somebody was going to let it slip and it wasn’t fair to you to hear it from anyone but him. Now, he just had to figure out how.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

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@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

[victusinveritas]

Writing advice from Nick Mamatas.

Some science fiction/fantasy creative writing students I have encountered, a field guide

1. World-Savers: these are generally older students, have no real interest in SF/F, are writing a book to express political or metaphysical ideas they consider to be radical and necessary for the future of life on Earth. In reality, they're writing long Platonic dialogues about their ideas, and authority from various culture and pop culture tropes (aliens, noble savages, fairies, resurrected presidents)–to the extent that their work has a plot at all, it involves a Christ figure transforming the world via a sacrifice. The ideas aren't very radical either: "pollute less" and "love your neighbor, unless they're a dick" are common. Occasionally the message for the world has to do with something more prosaic: reverse budgeting, the evils of Affirmative Action, the importance of installing solar panels, how dare Eileen divorce me and fuck like three guys in the six months after she moved out, etc. These students are utterly confused by actually existing SF/F stories they read, and often interpret them in bizarrely sexual ways. They don't believe in numbering the pages of their manuscripts, and often attempt to submit work in PDF so it won't be stolen.

2. Children with Money: recent college grads, or drop-outs, these people have read Harry Potter, Twilight, and perhaps three or four other best-selling young adult series and nothing else. They are easily upset, especially when someone suggests reading more. Their main interests are YouTube personalities, video games, and a sort of Puritanical pansexuality that actually makes smut boring. They often "forget" to read the work of other students, and have no idea how to use a printer. They warn the other students that their story might be "too intense" because it contains, for example, a depiction of a car accident. Their stories are routinely awful, and always contain a character named "Aidan." Sometimes their parents come to class to make sure I am "not a serial killer", as though they could possibly tell from looking at me. (Oh, "Mamatas" IS a white person name...I guess?)

3. Anointed Ones: They contact me, or the people running the workshop, beforehand, to make sure that "the class is right" for them. They have file cabinets full of their stuff, and after many decades of toil, they are ready to reveal their work to the world. They just need a mentor, and an ally—could I be the one they've been searching for lo these many years? Prior workshops were full of callow teachers and jealous students. Why they were only allowed to submit ten pages a week! Some of them have actually read fairly widely, but you wouldn't know it from their work: three adjectives per noun, a fetish for speech tags other than the word "said" or no tags at all. Often these stories include as characters philosophical prostitutes with very sensitive nipples. They never miss a class and often show up more than thirty minutes early. One time, I had to hide in a closet to avoid an extensive pre-class conversation with one.

4. Frightened Proles: These have read Stephen King and Dean Koontz and sometimes even horror writers from this century. They generally have working-class jobs and write about working people who encounter the supernatural on the late shift. They really hope they can sell their novel soon, but they know it'll take a lot of work. (Ten more drafts oughta do it!) They wear baseball hats to class and look like enormous eight-year-olds. They get very excited when I mention professional wrestling or do a taiji move in class. Their significant others are often nameless—"my girlfriend" "my wife." They buy my books and bring them to class for autographs. Some of them get published after, especially flash fiction.

5. Repairables: decent writers, often involved in the SFF "scene", who need to be fixed after a bad experience with Clarion or another workshop or an overeager editor at a semipro magazine who told them some idiot nonsense they decided to believe because they were told it was "unprofessional" not to consider editorial feedback. These either get published...or lost to MFA programs, video game jobs, fandom, podcasts, or other writing-shaped pursuits. Most of them are ferocious name-droppers; the ones who heard of me beforehand know to keep quiet though.

[baddybaddyadardaddy]

a knife in the dark, pt. 3

[adar/oc]

read part 1 | part 2

Set in the "Awake, Arise"-verse (I'd recommend reading at least chapters 1-9 if you haven't already to get the history of these characters) PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is.

OKAY PEEPS AS PROMISED, HERE'S THE SPICE. [cw: blood, knife-play, implied previous dubcon/noncon, related to the creation of the orcs]; M rating applies.

ENJOY. (don't look at me.)

Cuiviénen.

Her blood sings at the sound of the word. She does not know how it could be true, only that it is. She begins to pick up the scattered pieces, the visions that she had seen: a lake under stars… water flowing over stones… tall, primordial trees…

With eyes full of questions, she lets the dagger fall away from his throat. “And you…”

“I was yours,” he says, tremulous and yearning. “And you were mine.”

A breeze moves gently through the glen, and in her mind’s eye, she catches a glimpse of him, young and uncorrupted—his skin unblemished as he steps into a patch of moonlight, breathless after chasing her through the wood.

She remembers how she’d led him through the trees after he’d caught her, down to a secluded place by the waterside. She remembers how they’d spent blissful hours discovering one another beneath the stars, how much she’d hungered for him.

She realizes then that she knows his name—for it is an inextricable part of her own: Eren.

“Oh,” she gasps, struggling to reconcile that vision of Eren with Adar who sits before her now, still bound to the tree. She can still make out unmistakable traces of his elvenness—his pointed ears, his high cheekbones—but his terrible transformation from elf to orc is clear.

She squeezes her eyes closed, overwhelmed suddenly by more memories of her own—of time spent in darkness and torment. For she had not escaped a similar fate…

Despite the strengthening sunlight, she is suddenly pulled down, plunged into icy waters—she is drowning in cold, swimming in a sea of terrible truth.

“I was with you,” she says, discovering it slowly. “In that dark, nameless place. They brought me to you, after I had been changed… after I had forgotten your name, and mine.”

She lets out a strangled sob, remembering the chamber, remembering being held down, remembering Morgoth, watching. “He forced us.”

As quickly as they’d returned to her—those blissful memories of starlit Cuiviénen—they are eclipsed by this single, horrible fact. As quickly as everything had come together, it now smashes, like a pane of glass against stone.

Erenyë crumbles with a terrible cry, wrenched from the depths of her soul as she comes to full understanding. They had been used—both of them—by Morgoth, to create the race of the orcs. She hearkens back to the hordes of snarling creatures that had attacked her party earlier. With a wave of nausea, she realizes that they are descended from her.

She looks back at Eren—Adar, she reminds herself. He is Adar—an orc, an enemy. She considers leaving him there, bolting off into the forest, returning to Pelargir, forcing the ship to turn around and return her to Valinor.

But Valinor is not her home…

At last, she understands the reason why she’d always felt incomplete. She never belonged in Valinor, not truly. She belongs with him—he is her purpose, her place in this world.

But she does not know how to have him now, after everything.

She is no longer the wild elf-maid who had danced carefree through the forests at Cuiviénen. Now, she feels broken and afraid—and she senses that he is, too. They are both changed, though her body bears the physical scars no longer.

“Erenyë.” His voice, barely a whisper, pleads with her. “Á cene ni.”

Look at me.

His unlovely face is bathed in golden sunlight. As the moments slip past, she allows everything else to fall away, piece by piece, until she focuses only on him. She allows herself to see him—to see in him that which Morgoth could never destroy, and what even the turbulent storms of ten thousand years could not weather away. She feels a hunger stirring deep within her, a hunger that only he has the power to slake.

She is utterly at a loss for how to proceed, but she feels a faint flicker of the boldness she’d once possessed, and it helps her to take the first step. She returns, kneeling over him, straddling his legs, reaching out with her free hand—the one not still clutching the dagger.

To her great surprise, he recoils from her, shaking his head.

“I do not deserve your touch,” he says, his voice thick with self-loathing. His eyes fall to the knife in her opposite hand, and she understands that given the choice of pain or pleasure, his preference now is for the former.

With a terrible pang, she wonders if he can even remember what tenderness feels like.

A part of her is angered by his denial, but she strives to accept it. They are neither of them who they once were, she reminds herself. They must forge a new path through the ashes.

She raises the dagger, letting it rest lengthwise against his cheek. Taking a steadying breath, she digs it into his skin enough to make him wince and squeeze his eyes shut.

“How are you here?” he murmurs, incredulous, as a single tear escapes.

She leans in, tilting her head toward him until they are almost nose to nose. She breathes him in, her body slowly relearning how to be close to his. She shifts, rolling her hips tentatively, experimentally against his legs, feeling heat kindling to life deep within her core. Her lips move close to his ear. “I am here,” she replies.

He shivers, leaning into the blade like a caress. Angling it carefully so that it will not rend, she traces it down the side of his face. His eyes open, and they are tinged with the haze of deep memory.

“I watched you die,” he says, laying his anguish bare before her, and it is a gaping chasm so wide and deep she fears her own heart to be in danger of splitting into and falling into it.

She had been so caught up by her own harrowing discoveries, she had not yet fully contemplated that while she had lived long in ignorance of their torment, he had wandered the world carrying the full weight of everything that had befallen them under Morgoth’s hand.

“I came back for you,” she breathes, seeking to reassure him, to assuage his anguish as best she can. She wishes he could accept softness, and she offers up a silent prayer that in time, he might come to do so. But for now, she drags the blade again, letting the tip of it settle at the center of his lower lip. He is trembling now, and his breathing is heavy as he begs her silently with his eyes.

She lets the dagger pierce him, splitting his lip in two and drawing blood. And then she dives, hungrily, unwilling to wait any longer, swallowing his gasp of surprise with her mouth. He resists at first, but she moves the blade to his throat—a gentle but direct threat. He acquiesces, opening himself to her kiss. She does not try to be sweet; she devours, letting their teeth gnash together before moving to nip and suck at the wound she’d made.

He moans against her mouth, and she remembers the thrill of being needed by him. How, she wonders, had she survived for so many years without this?

She twists the fingers of her free hand into his hair, pulling his head back so that she can assail his neck. She nicks him with the dagger several times in succession, letting him feel pain for only a moment before allowing him the balm of her lips. His black blood tastes bitter on her tongue, but she savors it, nonetheless.

With a sharp intake of breath, he shifts beneath her and she grinds herself down hard against the cradle of his hips, the heat between her legs blooming until it is slick and wet and impossible to ignore.

She pulls back, lowering the dagger to the cord of elven rope that binds him. Hesitation flickers across his face, but she grips his chin in her free hand, jerking him toward her to claim his lips again. “Grant me this,” she says when they are both breathless, resting her forehead against his.

He makes a noncommittal noise in the base of his throat, and she prepares her argument, but he interjects before the words reach her lips.

“Grant me one thing in return.” He leans back ever so slightly, his eyes raking over her face, coming to rest on the long, dark braid draping over her shoulder. “Your hair,” he implores. “Undo it.”

Warmth floods her chest. It is such a simple request, but as she moves her hand to undo the cord, he watches her with a startling intensity, and as she begins to finger the strands free from the braid, she realizes that she had never worn her hair this way back in Cuiviénen, and that his request is born out of a desire to see her as she had been then.

His breath hitches as he watches her, and she slows her movements, taking deliberate care as she unwinds the rest, combing through her dark locks carefully until they fall free at last, framing her face.

“There was starlight in your hair on the night of our awakening,” he murmurs, his voice dreamlike. “I have never forgotten it.”

His desire for her is so guileless, so open, as it ever had been since their earliest days, and she feels a sudden burst of incandescent joy amid all the anguish that had passed between them during their reunion.

She takes his face between her hands, heedless of his earlier talk of undeserving, and kisses him fiercely, thumbing over his scars and broken skin. Then, with haste, she reaches down for the dagger she had dropped, and slices cleanly through the elven rope, freeing him, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms enveloping her.

But he does not match her fevered pace—and when he does reach for her, it is to lightly stroke her hair. He does so with reverence, as though handling a holy relic. She leans into his hand, placing her palms upon his chest to brace herself, for even under this lightest of touches, her knees grow weak.

His armor is firm and solid—an outer shell that she longs to remove. She wants nothing between them, just as it had been when they had lain together in the eldest of elder days. But as she gropes for the fastenings, he catches her wrists, and the pained look in his eye tells her no.

She wants to ask if he means never or not yet, but she is frightened to learn the answer, so she leans in soundlessly, winding her arms around his neck, knitting her body against his, coaxing his lips to part for her once more.

She is confused by his unwillingness and wracked by feelings of selfishness for wanting him so recklessly. She prays he will not notice her hot, anguished tears as they begin to fall. But she soon tastes their salt, and she knows he can, too. He pulls back, and she drops her eyes immediately, ashamed.

She feels the cold kiss of metal as his gauntleted hand tips her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His face is contrite yet pained—he hides nothing from her.

“For you, it was once,” he explains, and she knows immediately that he is speaking of their violation in Utumno. She clenches her jaw, feeling the icy, sick sensation overwhelm her again as he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “For me, it was… many times. Always at Morgoth’s command.”

Her heart shatters at his confession. The death she had suffered—it had been a mercy. She understands that fully now. Her tears fall faster as she aches for everything she imagines he’d endured, alone. Without her.

She yearns to comfort him, but to her distress, she realizes that she does not know how—she does not know anymore what will soothe him, or if there is anything that can.

With a shuddering intake of breath, he continues. “Being lost to lust—I fear it now.” He looks to her mournfully. “But I do long for you.” His unclad hand caresses her now, sliding slowly down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, over her belly and down to the cleft between her legs. “Oh, how I long for you,” he growls low, stroking her there.

She cannot contain the cry of pleasure that breaks free, and to her surprise, he smothers it with a sudden, scorching kiss.

His hands move to unfasten the clasp of her cloak, letting it fall away behind them. Snatching her around the waist, he tips her back, laying her out on top of it, a silken barrier between her and the ashes that lie beneath it. He kneels carefully over her, and she watches a silent struggle play out upon his face. He breathes in deeply, finding steadiness within himself.

She waits, as patiently as she can manage, though every inch of her feels raw, and in desperate need of his hands. One by one, he undoes the fastenings of her tunic, unfolding the fabric gently, unwrapping her, letting the morning sun soak her pale skin. A ripple of delight courses through her as she watches him look down upon her, followed by a surge of impatience. She thinks she sees the edges of his lips curl up ever so slightly as he slides his fingers beneath the hem of her trousers, as he begins to tease them slowly down her legs.

His unhurried pace is maddening. She bucks her hips as he strips the garment finally away, releasing a pathetic whimper. He returns it with a satisfied growl that sounds from deep at the base of his throat, before lowering his head, planting a chaste kiss on the skin just above her hip. His bare hand moves to cover her breast, fingers sinking into a slow caress as his lips forge their own path across her abdomen and lower.

When he reaches the place where she needs him most, he delays no further—her legs part as his tongue finds her center. She undulates in pure, simple, velvet-soft ecstasy, as half-conscious sighs and moans fall freely from her lips.

The sensation of his mouth upon her sex makes her deliciously weak, but she summons enough strength to raise her head enough to look down and watch him, his dark head between her thighs, eyes closed in concentration, his grey hand kneading her breast, his iron gauntlet gripping her hip, the sharp spikes of his fingers sinking into her flesh.

Within a few moments, she is finished, reduced to quivers and cries as she comes undone beneath him.

His face swims into view above her, wan and satisfied, his green eyes cloudy with arousal. She clasps him around the neck, pulling him down to kiss her, catching the trace of her own tang still upon his tongue. Finding more strength, she rises somewhat clumsily, moving to straddle him once more, so that his back is against the tree.

They are both breathless, and for a moment, they linger in stillness. Her hand drifts to his forehead, brushing strands of dark hair away from his face. Then she leans forward, kissing along his jawline before teasing at his ear with her teeth. He gasps at the sensation, hands digging deliciously into her bare back.

She presses her body close to his, flattening her breasts against the hard plate of his armor, rocking so that she feels the friction of his mail against her flesh. Her hunger for him—having been momentarily sated—comes roaring back, and her motions grow more frantic as she confronts again a deep sense of emptiness between her legs, aching to be filled. She trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, each an invitation.

Please, she begs in between them.

His hands abruptly leave the base of her spine, and for a moment she fears that they have reached the end—that she has asked too much, pushed too far.

She buries her face in his neck, unwilling to tear herself away. But then she feels something brush against her—something hard that teases at her still-weeping entrance. She sucks in a sharp breath, glancing down at the space between them. He is holding the hilt of the dagger against her slit, clutching it in his own hand by the blade, and she can see a thin rivulet of black blood running down his fingers. He winces, but she reads in his face just how much the pain grounds him, and she remembers his earlier words, his fears of being fully lost to lust.

This, she realizes, is what he can offer her now. All she can do is accept it and be content, and live in hope that together, they might conquer the rest in time.

It is a challenge that she is more than willing to accept for him, and she tells him so with a deep, passionate kiss. Pulling back, she locks her eyes onto his, letting herself sink down onto the hilt, as a breathy moan begins at the back of her throat. He manipulates the dagger gently, pressing it inside of her as the sound deepens and lengthens. His forehead droops against hers and they breathe in time together with each thrust until she comes, and his hand is covered in blood.

With her body still quaking from the aftershocks, she wastes no time in tending to him. Reaching for her cloak, she tears a strip of fabric and binds his mangled palm. When she finishes, she holds his hand carefully in both of her own.

Where will we go now, she asks him, suddenly fearful of what may lie ahead.

Home, he answers. To Mordor.

...y'all still with me?

want more?

[i have some ideas]

lemmeknowkthanksbai

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

The importance of setting rules for your fictional universe

I talked about this a little in another recent post in terms of rules for character design (not any like…theory or rules for designing characters, but rather rules for WHY a character looks a certain way) and it made me think more about world building in general.

I’ll be talking mainly about Hellaverse stuff since it’s on my mind, at first because I rewatched HB and now again b/c the HH trailer dropped.

B/c I gotta be honest, I’m pretty sure the world of Hazbin Hotel is gonna fall flat for me the same way that Helluva Boss has.

And as a reminder, I’m not trying to bash Helluva and Hazbin. I enjoyed the recent Hazbin trailer, but I think it’s really important to examine and think about story stuff.

Critique/Review below!

I think one of, if not THE biggest thing keeping HB and HH from feeling like a fully realized world is that we don’t really have any rules or standards for what is considered “normal” in Hell.

And since there’s no baseline for what is considered moral and immoral in hell, characters and their reactions to violence, crime, verbal abuse, body shaming, etc. seem to switch rapidly between sharing an earthly human morality, where everything is mirroring our current day society, and an anything goes kill-steal-maim total anarchy ideology.

To me the HH/HB version of hell comes off like the purge, except actually there ARE some crimes that are off limits. Like murder is okay sometimes and of course there are assassins everywhere that’s just a normal freelance sort of business. But also there’s organized crime and if you steal from a bank you go to hell-jail.

For example, after “Exes and Oh’s”, I had assumed killing other Imps or hellborn must be considered a crime, the way that Crim’s behavior and killing of his underlings was portrayed as completely negative and horrific. But then remembered that Millie having a neighborhood body count due to getting too competitive is mentioned as a joke, and it’s pretty clear that her family thinks of it as more of an embarrassing incident than like…an actually terrible thing to do.

I thought, “Okay, we’ll, maybe it’s just Moxxie’s Mom that was against all the violence being taught to her son.” But apparently she’s from the Wrath ring, the same ring as Millie. So was Moxxie’s Nameless Mom seen as being particularly different or strange to the what a “typical” Wrath Imp is? We can’t know.

Like. We see that imps have romantic relationships and can care deeply about each other and fall in love, just like humans do. In reference to the neighborhood bodycount thing, were Millie’s neighbors not extremely upset with her? Wouldn’t they also grieve their loved ones? Is it sometimes socially acceptable to kill other Imps like in sporting events???

Are the rules for what is seen as socially acceptable for sinners different from what’s socially acceptable for hellborn? Are there different ideas of what is socially acceptable from ring to ring?

I worry that when I ask these questions about a fictional universe, people will think I’m TRYING to dig or look for things to tear that world apart.

I promise I’m thinking about these things so deeply out of curiosity and because I want to engage with the material.

I want to understand and have fun in the fictional universe the writers have invited us all to. But if the rules of your universe are not clear, it can make it much harder for audiences to navigate the story you are trying to tell in that setting.

The HH/HB universe just does NOT have that clarity right now. Since season 2 of HB I’ve noticed that the world building has become more and more inconsistent, and if it’s supposed to now SHARE that world with HH, I really don’t know how they’re going to make their world coherent.

As a final note these are just my opinions. They are not objectively right. If you love Hh and HB and firmly believe the story is clear and the world building makes sense that’s great!! Genuinely, I am happy that the story means a lot to you and you enjoy it. These are just my personal critiques and views.

[bougiebutchbitch]

anyway I love that House does shit that is 9000000x more Problematique than Izzy (except, arguably, The Murders Of Nameless Enemies, which is pretty much a genre convention) but I never got any hate for liking him lol

I got less hate for being a Joker fan than an Izzy fan, which is fuckin wild (and - oh hey - look at that - it's possible to love a character like Ed who canonically abuses another of my favourite characters!! Maybe.... You don't gotta pretend Ed is a perfect angel in order to love him!! Imagine!!!)

like I know I'm Loud And Annoying(tm), but if you're gonna come at me for liking 'characters who did meanbad things!!1!!111!' and literally all you can point to is Izzy pulling poor Fang's beard when Fang questioned Ed (which was mean!! it was absolutely mean and shitty!!! bad Izzy!!!! bad!) on a show where appendages are amputated and fed to the victim, I promise you there is way better material in my archive lol

[days-until-burnout]

Day 14 -

Characters - Etho/Joel Words - 1,822 Time - 60 mins Content - Coffee Shop AU | hurt/comfort

The day went from sunny to stormy in a matter of seconds, not that his day had been any better either way. It was bleak already, the rain just added another layer of suckiness to it. 

Joel ran down the street, and practically burst through the door, freezing when he realized what he had done. He blushed, looking down and away from the startled eyes, turning around to close the door behind him, hearing the soft bell. He looked out the door window, cringed at how hard the rain was now, even though he could practically hear it over the quiet jazz playing in the background. He was soaked and he was mopey, and his day just continued to go downhill. 

Without looking at anyone, and everyone else looking away in pity, he made his way to the counter. As he breathed in and out to even his ragged breathing, he picked up the smell of fresh coffee and the very subtle milk scent and some hints of baked goods. His stomach grumbled at the thought of food, his body shivered for warmth. Past Joel, who was seven in the morning Joel, was probably laughing at him for not having stayed in bed as he had wanted. But he had tried to be good, went to his classes, went to the library to get some work done, went to more classes, all the while ignoring his phone. 

He went out of the flat because he wanted to feel functional, and because he just did not want to be in. 

He tried to not think about it. Not like he did not have enough things to be sad about already. 

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” 

Joel looked up, finding that barista with that bleached platinum hair. He vaguely remembered his friends talking about him, praises more than anything, but he could not for the life of him pin a name to the face. Or, well, to the eyes, because of the mask covering the bottom of their face. 

Their eyes met briefly, Joel swore to have caught a twinkle of mischief in them, then that could probably be chalked up to sleeplessness. His eyes flickered to the menu behind him, making a show to think what he wanted, though he already knew. 

“Can I get a large hot chocolate?”

He hummed, pressing something into the screen, “Alright, one large hot chocolate. Would that be all?”

“Add a chicken salad sandwich, thanks.” Joel looked around the display of baked goods as he fished out his wallet, deciding against it for now. He was in no mood to joke, but he still tried to amuse himself, if anything to feel better about himself. He smiled, catching his eyes, “It’s my birthday. Got any discounts you can give me?”

The nameless barista paused, hand still on the screen, then resumed. “I’m afraid not. But there is a college discount if you have your ID?”

Joel showed his ID, the barista nodded.

“By the way, are you planning to stay long?”

Joel blinked, confused. 

“Oh, I mean, to study. People tend to stay a couple hours to study and stuff. Got free wifi and it’s cozy too.”

Joel glanced at the time, then looked back outside to see the rain. He turned back with a chuckle and a shrug, “I guess so. With this rain.”

The tall guy nodded, “Well, then, I will leave your tab open so you can keep ordering if you want, and just pay before you leave.”

“Wait, what? You guys do that? Like, like in bars?”

White hair guy nodded, “Yeah, happens often enough so why not. Plus, most people are students, so not that hard to track down if it comes down to it. I’m a student too, so.”

Joel was baffled, but he still nodded. “I, well, alright, I guess? I’ll, uh, sit over there. Wait– No, I’ll wait—”

Kinda-nice voice guy chuckled. “Nah, I’ll bring it over. It’s not busy.”

With a nod, Joel was on his way. He picked a booth, hidden from the other customers, shrugged his soaked jacket onto one of the seats, stretching a little, then quickly filled the table with his work. His laptop and tablet, books and papers, pens and pens and more pens. He might as well get some work done until the rain stopped or lighten up. 

Not like he was going home, nor did he want to. 

He shook his head, put on his headphones and began working. 

At some point, the kinda barista walked by, dropping off his drink and food. Joel looked up, seeing an extra thing, and before he could say anything, the guy was gone. With a raised brow, he pulled the little dish closed, finding a little lava cake and a little note saying ‘Happy Birthday. It’s on the house :)’. Joel wanted to cringe, because he did not want to think about his birthday, which he probably should not have mentioned in the first place. Then he realized he did not even tell the guy his name. Oh well, that was a fair exchange, given he did not remember his name either.

It was stupid. But his drink was nice. And he might as well eat the cake, which was also fine. Whatever. 

It was whatever. 

He went back to his work between sips and spoonfuls of cake, then moved on to the sandwich which was also fine. He lacked appetite, but he knew he needed food. He ate to not have to worry about it, then sunk into his work for however long it took. 

>>>

Which was a long time, it seemed. Because Joel woke to dimmer lights and no music, only some sounds he could not register, and… something on his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes, mind slowly watching up and finally realizing that he was hearing sweeping and the thing on his shoulders was a coat. He yawned, then panic looked at his phone, eyes going wide at the time. 

“Oh, look who finally woke up.”

Joel looked up with wide eyes, going wider when he saw the kinda-cute barista without his mask. Smile on his lips, twinkle in his eyes, and just—

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll leave. I—”

“You’re good,” the guy chuckled, and Joel blushed, “it’s still raining anyways. I can give you a ride, unless you’ve got someone to pick you up.”

“I– No, it’s okay. I’ll find my way home.”

“Nah, I’m actually locking you in until I’m done closing up.”

The evil barista winked then walked away, Joel took a couple seconds before his mind kicked into motion. He shoved his things into his bag, the coat falling from his shoulders when he got up. The grabbed it, shuddering when he grabbed his still wet jacket, sliding out of the booth to an empty coffee shop. It was so very dark outside, which was definitively not a good sign. 

“Sorry, can I pay now? I’ll get out of your hair now. Sorry.”

“Oh. You’re too late. System shut down already. Guess you’ll have to wait until I’m done so I can do the transaction.” The guy laughed, almost amused, leaning on the broom as he looked at Joel… well, amused. Joel made some sort of face, because he laughed again, smitten. Which was probably in Joel’s head, seeing as he just woke up. 

He shook his head, placed the coat in the nearest chair, “Okay, alright, you’re being weird now. I’ll come back to pay tomorrow. I’m gonna go now.”

Of course Joel did not. When he tried to pull the door, it did not move. And when he tried to pull it, it did not budge either. He blinked a couple times, then turned to looked at the barista, his captor. He blanked when he saw his raised brow, almost confused. 

“I did say I locked the door, didn’t I?”

“This is called kidnapping.”

“No, it’s called an intervention.”

“To what?!”

“To walking in the rain. It’s not good for you. You don’t even have an umbrella. So unprepared, you’re lucky you’re cute though.”

“What are you going to do to me? Kill me? Sex? You want sex. Money? I’m broke, so sex.”

His evil captor had the gall to laugh, shake his head then continued sweeping. “You looked sad.”

Joel’s voice became small. He thought he did a good job hiding. Had he not? This– No, no, this could not be happening. He was hiding it good. No one noticed. No one. Which was why he muted his phone, because no one would notice. Which is why he did not go to class but simply hid around campus, because no one would notice. No one was supposed to notice. No one.

“When you walked in, I don’t know, you looked sad.” The mind-reader said, walking away to put the broom away, but his voice was as loud as if he were standing in front of him. Everything was so quiet, except the pouring rain outside. “And you looked very sad when you said it was your birthday too. Dunno if you meant it or not, but yeah. It’s probably not my place. And I’ll unlock the door if you really want to go. But my offer stands. I will drive you home, or I can drive you wherever you want. We can drive around until my car runs out of gas if that’s what you want. But I really don’t want you to go out and get sick.”

Joel looked up when the barista walked closer, and his eyes finally glossed over the name badge, Etho. 

“So,” Etho said, holding the keys in one hand, his coat in the other, “what do you want to do?”

Joel dropped his head, almost ashamed of this state. He should leave. Get home and… and what? Face Grian and Jimmy? Check his phone and explain why he did not answer anyone? Do his homework? Hide in his bed and cry his eyes out? Was that what he wanted?

Was this what he wanted?

“Do you leave alone?”

“I don’t, no. But I can sneak you in if you want. My flatmates are probably busy or sleeping already.”

Joel nodded, “I’ll stay.” 

The coat wrapped around his shoulders again, an index lifting his chin tenderly. He wanted to cry, badly. 

He did not, though there probably would be time to do so later. 

“I’m Joel, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know, I remember.”

Spending his birthday with a stranger sounded like a bad idea. A really bad idea. But at least he was not alone. It would be alright, maybe. 

Etho pressed a hesitant kiss on his temple, brushing his cheek with the back of his finger, “Sit down, now. I won’t be long, I promise.”

It would be okay, he decided as he sat down. As long as he was not alone, it would be okay. 

_____

uhhhh half-assed joel birthday thing? because.... well... yeah. there is definitively not a theme lately. hah 😪 anyways. i go sleep now