#only very one specific person is able to distract him

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

"Dark Beginnings" brings up something that was likely implied before but I never considered, which is that Shadow didn't share Maria's fascination with Earth.

Maria would often tell Shadow about Earth's beauty but he never returned the enthusiasm, he only cared about curing his sister. Besides, the ARK was all he had ever known.

So of course Shadow's disinterest towards Earth turns into hatred after the GUN incident, and his revenge is only stopped thanks to Maria's memory. Even in the present, you could argue Shadow doesn't care for Earth very much.

[gyll-yee-haw]

Dalton's rules

Elwood Dalton x reader

Annon requested something intense with our brand new boyfriend... well, here we go <3

A/N: In this fic he's still fighting professionally

Warnings: masturbation (f), dom!Dalton, Somnophilia, cum in underwear, degradation, edging, pussy slapping, choking, more slapping, creampie...

Like 2.4k words

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The first rule was clear. Some days your boyfriend would get everyone screaming his name, except for you. Fight nights... how you hated them! Not only you had to wait anxiously for him to come out of that octagon alive, but he just refused to touch you afterwards.

He claimed it's for your own safety. He just gets too worked up during his fights... if he couldn't mesure his strength, if he ever lost control around you, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

You were fine with it, most days. Well, of course you felt like rewarding your champion, but that could wait... the stress you went through during the fight and the days of preparation got you too tired to complain about it.

Well, most days...

There was this specific occasion, a very important fight for his career. Dalton had been training for so long, you felt absolutely neglected. Being the supportive girlfriend you are, you didn't say anything, though... you knew how important you were for him, and if he heard you were feeling like that, he would feel like the worst person in the world. And not only you didn't want to hurt his feelings, you didn't want to distract him and cause him to break any bones.

All you could do was wait.

Honestly? It wasn't that bad. Dalton always made it up for you. The days after his fights, before he started preparing for the next one, were the BEST. He got so clingy. He wouldn't let you go anywhere without him. His scary fighter face would be hidden under the sweetest permanent smile and kind doe eyes he only had for you. He would use his fat paychecks to spoil you. Buy you new jewelry for every fight he wins. Take you for dinner anywhere in this planet. And God... fuck you against every surface he saw.

Maybe it's because you had those things in mind and got too eager... maybe it's because this specific time he went too long without touching you... you weren't sure about why, all you knew was that the night after he won the fight, you were absolutely unable to sleep.

The discomfort between your legs was unbearable. You kept tossing and turning in bed, and he was so exhausted, so deep asleep, that not even your restless state right beside him was enough to wake him up.

You sighed frustratedly, looking at his face. God, he was so beautiful you felt like crying. It didn't help the way he never wore anything but those black boxers to sleep.

He was so tired... maybe he wouldn't notice if you touched yourself...

Yeah, that's the second rule. You're not touching yourself without his permission.

But... he would understand, right? Only this time...

Your eyes were glued to his face as your hand slid inside your underwear.

You were dangerously close to him, his body pressed against yours...

It felt like you were committing a crime. Unfortunately, that only turned you on more.

You were so fucking wet you were afraid he would wake up from the sounds your pussy was making.

Well, he didn't fully wake up, but something in him did. You froze when you felt him move. Except that he didn't really move. What you felt was his cock hardening against your thigh.

You wanted to cry. He felt so deliciously hard... what a fucking waste, you needed him so badly... you rubbed your clit so hard, but that wasn't it...

You might have lost your mind just for a second. But the next thing you knew was that you were grinding against his erection like your life depended on it. At this point, all you wanted was for him to wake up and fucking take you.

He didn't wake up at once. As he gained consciousness, he was fully convinced that was all a dream. He remained on that half asleep/half awake land, without moving a muscle. And you kept grinding on his clothed cock so fucking good. So deliciously hard... leaking more and more and... oh shit.

His eyes shot open as his orgasm started to build.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck?!" He grunted, voice still so sleepy...

You didn't stop. He grabbed your arm harder than he would like to as he filled his underwear with cum. So much cum it leaked all over your ass as you kept rubbing it against him.

"Oh for fucks sake..." He pushed you away. Fucking pushed you away. He had NEVER done that. "Look at the fucking mess you've made..."

His harsh touch didn't hurt half as much as the loss of contact.

"Dalton... please..." You whined. "Didn't cum..."

"Yeah? Good." He grabbed your hand, forcing you to stop touching yourself. "What the fuck was that?"

"M'sorry..." You squeezed your thighs together. "Needed you too badly..."

"That's the worst behavior I have ever seen in my life." He took a deep breath. "And you couldn't have pissed me off at a worst time."

You had no words to defend yourself. It was true, you broke two rules at once.

"I am so fucking exhausted... and have wake up in the middle of the night to deal with a brat." He continued, his grip still burning on your arm.

"Baby... please... I'm so sorry..." You insisted, burying your face in his chest. Your hands went to his abs, tracing it slowly and he tensed up.

It was obviously not only difficult to you, those days without any touch. But he would rather suffer a bit than risk hurting you or losing the fight.

"Oh my sweet girl..." He cooed, hand stroking the back of your head. "You know I have to be harsh sometimes, yeah?"

You looked at his face again. His sweet expression kept you calm, but his words didn't.

"You understand that I have to punish you right now, don't you?" He asked nicely, like you had a choice. "That I do what I do because I need to keep you obedient..."

You nodded shyly.

"Good girl." He sighed. "Tell me, my princess... when you were touching yourself without my permission... you didn't cum, right?"

You shook your head quickly.

"Do you need to?" He asked and you nodded immediately. "Yeah? How bad? Use your words for me, darling."

"So bad, needed it for so long..." You explained, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey..." His hand went to your cheek, stroking it lightly. "You need cock so bad you're gonna cry, angel?"

You felt humiliated. All you did was look at him. He had a huge smirk on his face.

"That's fucking pathetic." He mocked. "Spread your legs for me."

When you did, he ripped your underwear like it was nothing, throwing it somewhere in the room. The way his eyes landed on your pussy made your stomach churn.

He knew you were ready, so he immediately shoved two fingers inside, bending them, rubbing your walls just so right...

Your eyes immediately rolled back. You were so close before he caught you, it surely wouldn't take you too long to get there now.

"Does this feel good, baby?" He asked, fingers never stopping. "Is that what you needed?"

You nodded eagerly, hips moving uncontrollably as you felt yourself getting there... you grabbed the sheets and closed your eyes, god, you were right there, growing and growing and growing in your belly...

"Too fucking bad, slut." He said, removing his fingers from you at once. His sweet tone was nowhere to be seen now.

Before you could start crying at the loss of contact, he gave your pussy a loud slap. You gasped. You were used to Dalton being rough, but not that rough.

"What did you expect?" He mocked you again. "That I would just solve your fucking problem? Do you think you deserve that?"

When you didn't answer, he slapped your pussy again. "Thought I asked you a fucking question."

"I don't deserve it!" You admitted. "But I did what I did because I was too desperate... because I need you too badly..."

"You just had to wait until the morning, you know that." He explained.

"Couldn't wait... I couldn't." You whined. "Slap me again, please?"

His eyes widened. "You're trying to come from your punishment? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble that would put you in?"

"No... not thinking, just need you..." You moaned, arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him close. "Come on, baby... don't you miss me?"

"Y/N..." He groaned. "Can't do this right now."

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I'm fucking mad at you." He shut his eyes, like he was trying to tell himself that. He needed to tell himself, because he was getting hard again.

"No, you're not mad at me for real." You insisted. "Come on..."

"Am I not mad for real?" He raised his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Do you think I'm in the mood for playing?" He asked, looking at the clock on the nightstand. "At 3am?"

"I'm sorry... I won't do it again..." You pouted.

He sighed, his eyes on your lips as he licked his. He rested his hand around your neck as a warning to stay still while he leaned to kiss you. You melted into the kiss, hips trying to grind against his leg. His hand tightened around your neck.

"Quiet." He said against your lips.

He pressed his body against yours and you could feel how extremely hard he was again already. You had never met a man with that stamina. Well, everyone knew there was no other man like him...

"Listen to me. Carefully." He said, pressing his erection harder to your core, making you roll your eyes in lust. "I'm gonna fuck you now and then I'm going back to sleep. And if you wake me up again, I'm not gonna even look in your direction for a week, do you understand?"

You nodded with a certain difficulty, considering how his hand squeezed your neck.

"Do. You. Understand?" He asked again.

"Yes, sir." You replied weakly.

"Smart little brat." He chuckled. "Turn around."

He stood up to remove his underwear and you laid on your belly as fast as possible.

The sharp slap that laid on your ass didn't surprise you the slightest, but you still moaned.

He pulled you closer like you were nothing and started stroking his cock. He knew you were more than ready, but his cock was still a bit sensitive from the harsh stimulation you kinda... forced him into. So he entered you slowly, inch by inch. You couldn't believe how good it felt.

"Fucking missed this pussy, baby, I'll admit that." He said, movements starting slow, but deep. "Just wanted it to be more romantic, you know? Take you somewhere nice... in a pretty dress I'd ruin later..."

"M'sorry..." you cried out. When he was that deep inside you, he could get you apologizing for things you didn't even do.

"Yeah, but my girl doesn't like romance, right?" He grabbed your waist and started going harder. "She likes being treated like a fucking slut. A very fucking ungrateful one."

"S'not true..." You moaned.

"Oh am I crazy, baby?" He gave you another slap. "You wanna keep disrespecting me? Knowing you, you might get sick from the lack of attention..."

"I would!" You replied, desperately. "Could fucking die..."

"Dramatic fucking whore." He chuckled. "Listen to me now. Very serious."

You tried your best to concentrate. It helped that his hips stopped moving.

"You're gonna tell me to stop immediately if I hurt you, won't you?" He asked, in the most serious tone you've heard from him.

"Yes." You couldn't contain the excitement that phrase ignited in you. Should you be scared?

"I mean it. You won't get punished and I'll let you cum if you still want to. But you have to be honest, baby, I... I couldn't live with myself." He insisted.

"I promise, baby." You assured him. "You won't hurt me, I can take it."

"Yeah?" He chuckled again. "Well, you fucking asked for it."

After making sure you were as comfortable as you could get in your position, he forgot what the word mercy meant.

His thrusts fast and deep, his sounds animalistic. Hands on your hips leaving bruises... and if you could speak, you'd thank him for it. It was more than you expected... more than he ever gave you. But it sure was what you needed... and it didn't take too long for that familiar feeling, the one you had been craving all night, fuck, all week, start to build.

"DALTON, PLEASE!" You started by begging already, because you weren't in position to do anything without his permission, no matter how much you needed it. "PLEASE, I'M SO CLOSE..."

"Fuck, me too..." He said, never stopping his hard thrusts. "Come for me, pretty girl... hurry up..."

The relief your body felt as soon as it got his permission allowed your orgasm to build and build and explode harder than you could take it... all you could do was scream his name among incoherent words.

He followed right after you, filling you up so deeply...

As soon as he was finished, he wrapped his arms around you and laid down, holding you close.

"Are you okay, angel?" He kissed every inch of your skin he could reach.

"Fuck, I am now..." you sighed and both of you laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, baby..." His sweet tone was back incredibly quick.

"You didn't hurt me, I promise." You assured him.

"Good... But I'm not apologizing for this... I'm sorry that I neglected you for so long." He caressed your face gently. "You're so much more important to me than all that bullshit. I just..."

"I know." You cut him, offering him a reassuring smile. The look in your eyes meant all the words you couldn't say. Specially not at that moment.

"You do, don't you?" He sighed relieved. You were his ride or die. And he couldn't imagine what he would do without you. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Well..." You shrugged playfully. "Guess that means it's all forgiven."

"All forgiven." He chuckled, bringing you closer to him.

[lu-is-not-ok]

A Narcissistic reading of Hong Lu

Yup, I'm actually doing this.

To lay down some facts first: I have NPD, alongside a bunch of other things that coalesce into a nuclear concoction strong enough to kill every dark empath in a five mile radius. If I find you ableisting it up, I give myself the permission to smite you. This is a threat and a warning.

Now, let's talk about Hong Lu. Because as it turns out, he might just be the most difficult literacy check in Limbus Company according to what I've seen.

I could just say "I'm a narcissist and Hong Lu is just like me fr fr so he's a narcissist too" and end the post, but honestly, where's the fun in that? There are, legitimately, things I want to yap about, so I'm going to yap about them, and no chucklefucks can stop me.

So, to start this off, let's make one thing clear.

Hong Lu is not only a good actor, but also a skilled liar. The way he navigates conversations and the methods he uses are just as important to analyze as the actual words he says, if not more so. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that trying to understand him based Only on what he says and not how he uses the things he says would result in an understanding that's not only incomplete, but potentially outright wrong.

Now, this isn't really tied to why I think Hong Lu could be very reasonably read as having NPD, at least not directly. Narcissists aren't inherently evil liar manipulators, and if that's what you take away from this post, that's more of a you problem (and you can go ahead and block me considering I'm one of the evil liar manipulator narcissists according to you).

However, there is a reason why I have to bring it up. And it's because almost all of Hong Lu's narcissistic traits become a lot more obvious once you look at the exact ways he takes control of conversations.

With that out of the way, what exactly are we even looking for?

NPD, in my experience, primarily affects one's sense of self-worth and self-esteem. I personally found that the analogy of a pendulum makes the most sense to me - a narcissist's sense of self-worth can swing between massive highs and massive lows, almost never staying in a middle "balanced" position, with even the tiniest things being able to throw it to one side or another.

The ways this can present outwardly are. Quite frankly, way too fucking many to count. But there are some common threads we can keep in mind:

High sensitivity to criticism

Need for an external source of validation

Tendency to seek out ways to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful

So, does Hong Lu fit those criteria?

Well. Yeah. This post wouldn't exist if he didn't.

Let's talk about the first point, high sensitivity to criticism. And, immediately, I would like everyone to remember Hell's Chicken, specifically the scene where Meursault begins to verbally roast his team's dish, and in the process laying down a verbal smackdown on everyone involved. That scene ended like this.

Curious, isn't it? The moment Meursault was about to start criticising Hong Lu, he just jumps in and distracts Meursault with a change of topic - something even Dante's narration points out.

Mind you, this isn't an isolated event. This is just the most obvious example of Hong Lu exhibiting this kind of behavior.

Don't believe me? Just look at these.

These are all examples of Hong Lu either backpedaling, changing the subject, or otherwise trying to avoid the acknowledgement of something that criticizes his status, thought process, or (in the last example) which would reveal an emotional vulnerability.

This is a fairly consistent pattern for him, and that's not even getting into the fact that the line he says when hovering over him before a skill check he has a Very Low chance at succeeding in has him suddenly try to excuse himself and leave.

Hong Lu is absolutely highly sensitive to criticism, it's just that his primary emotional reactions aren't ones we're privy to. Instead, what we get to see is how he acts to try and minimize the impact of those criticisms, if not outright find ways to never let them leave someone's mouth in the first place.

Next up - need for external validation.

This one doesn't have as many examples as the previous point, as Hong Lu is a generally closed off person who keeps a certain level of distance from most other Sinners. However, that doesn't mean I don't have any.

One such example comes from Canto 4, where soon after acting out his part in the play, Hong Lu seeks validation from Yi Sang.

Then there's this moment in Canto 6, where Hong Lu, once again, seeks validation for something he's done.

And then there's also these lines from Hong Lu's various Identities.

Aaaand then there's these base Identity voice lines, which, if you ask me, feel a bit like fishing for compliments.

This point is a lot harder to say is a definitive one, mainly due to Hong Lu's more closed off projected personality. That being said, the fact that one can find examples of it despite that is pretty notable.

And for the final one - trying to make oneself feel more special, important, or powerful.

This is one that's a bit harder to provide exact examples for, as again, Hong Lu isn't someone who talks about how he feels often, and when he does it's not always exactly trustworthy. He's not like Rodya, who while still putting on a facade, is pretty open and easy to read about how she actually feels.

But, there's still some non-mutually exclusive interpretations I want to posit here. Two, in fact.

One - I believe that for Hong Lu, the thing he sees as power is control.

See, avoiding criticism isn't the only time Hong Lu steers conversations. In fact, it's something he does All The Time. He's often the one asking questions to get the group moving, trying to gather information that might be relevant to him, and generally taking over the direction a conversation is going in. Chances are, if Hong Lu speaks up, it's likely to alter the conversation he joins in noticeable ways.

This, I think, is one of the ways Hong Lu makes himself feel more powerful. After all, it's not that hard to guess from what little bits of his background we have that Hong Lu lacked agency for most of his life. So, wouldn't it make sense for him that having that agency, that being able to be socially in control, would be the exact kind of thing that would boost his self-esteem?

In fact, the only times we see him rendered completely speechless, seemingly stripped of that confidence in conversations he usually exhibits, are in Canto 7 - specifically in scenes where he's Not In Control of what the others are talking about. Those scenes being when the other Sinners start shit-talking Xichun in front of him, and when Xichun actively tries to bother Hong Lu by alluding to the way he's been treated back at home.

Extremely confident until something external happens that utterly strips him of that confidence... sounds familiar, doesn't it?

Then, there's the second interpretation.

See, with NPD, there are two ways a narcissist can try to make themself feel more deserving of attention. One is the one most probably think of when they think about narcissists - setting out to fulfill extremely high goals to feel amazing when one reached them and then feeling utterly crushed in the case one doesn't. This would be someone like Rodya.

However, there is also another way, one which I personally have much more experience with - to undersell. To set extremely low expectations, so that it's as hard as possible to fail reaching them, and to feel way better upon surpassing them than one would with higher, more "regular" expectations.

This, to me, is exactly the kind of narcissist Hong Lu is. Think about it. He's constantly putting out this image of an extremely sheltered person that barely understands the outside world, with notable moments where it's made clear he's Just Making Shit Up at points. Wouldn't making one seem unable to do anything, only to then proceed to do things you've led people to not expect of you, make it feel like you're much more exceptional than you really are?

The underselling goes the other way too. When the other Sinners point out something odd about Hong Lu in a more positive way, he's often quick to point out how it's Nothing compared to what his Family expected of him. Wouldn't that make one feel exceptional, to make it seem like whatever effort you're putting in to do well is but a fraction of what else you can do? That you don't even have to try to be able to be special?

...So, there. That's all the analysis and interpretation I find important to do to get my point across.

Just to make it clear, I don't think that the only thing wrong with Hong Lu is the narcissism. There's definitely a lot more shit going on in that head of his. But, I'll be honest, the NPD reading felt so obvious to me that it genuinely took me by surprise that other people don't see it.

Though... maybe I shouldn't be shocked. Some fuckers out there still think Faust is a narcissist when she's literally just autistic.

[bone-and-butterflies]

How to hide plot twists from both your readers and your characters in a way that is not frustrating or annoying.

So I was watching a book review for a book that I liked but both loved and hated some of the plot twists. Of course this got me thinking about plot twists and why they work for both readers and the characters that are falling for these plot twists.

Readers

The key is to control the information that your readers have. Your readers aren't going to consider an option unless (1) that twist is really common for your genre and that reader has read that genre a lot and will therefore be expecting it or (2) you have very obviously given them the specific information nessesary to unintentionally figure out the twist before the characters.

Why does this information stand out, you may be wondering. It is because there is nothing else going on to distract away from a piece of information that can seem meaningless with the right context.

Most of the time, if you're not writing a very specific plot line with a very specific genre, your reader isn't going to immediately know where the plot is going so they may not be looking out for the information relevant to a later plot twist, so as long as you justify an informational choice that explains a later plot twist in a way that covers a variety of basis, they're probably not going to pick up on the one piece you left out, aka what is going to make this twist fun.

This piece of information should be something small and unassuming. It can be magical, but if you're writing fantasy that magic has to be hidden really really well. I find that a plot twist works the best when the piece of information that is missing is something you wouldn't really think about, like the reason a prince was able to infiltrate a prison and hide his identity was because he had his cousin standing in for him and we don't know that this cousin existed and knew the limits of that world's magic (this is actually a plot twist that fooled me btw despite how obvious at sounds now).

A good plot twist that fools the reader relies on twisting the information that the reader has and therefore twisting how they think the story will go.

Midway sidenote: not every plot twist needs to exist to fool both the reader and the character, sometimes it is really fun to watch a character fail because of something inherent to that character.

Characters

Remember how I said sometimes it's really fun to watch a character fail. That only works sometimes.

It is more annoying to figure out a plot twist that is really obvious and then have the character miss it because the author said so.

So how does a writer pull this off?

Be intentional. Have an idea in mind of when you want the reader to figure it out and ask your beta readers when they figured out your plot twists to control that as much as you can.

Your character does not know which genre they're in, so you have to both get inside the character's head and take the reader along with you so they understand why this character is making these poor choices and missing the most obvious villain in the room.

Why would a character miss a plot twist?

They are distracted or delusional. Characters have goals and they may ignore their better judgments to achieve these goals based on their personality. Put more emphasis on your character's motives to hide information that may make plot twists more obvious. Also, your characters may use information about their world to explain their motives and this information may also be vital to understanding a later plot twist

The average person does not go around thinking everybody around them is out to get them especially if those people seem incapable of that through the pov character's ego or the other character's demeanor. If your character has known somebody for a really long time or knows a piece of information that is vital to the worldview they're probably not going to immediately discard it. Fun fact: in the real world, when people have their views disputed, even with very good evidence, it can make them more likely to hold on to that old belief.

Expectation of harm. Different characters have different experiences with shape how bad they think things can get. For example, if a character has never experienced something, they may not know what can lead to that thing. (FYI older characters are more likely to know more things so be careful with this one.)

The Twist

For a twist to work, it must make sense with both real world and in world knowledge as well as common sense, so keep this in mind as you plan.

Conclusion

This isn't comprehensive because good plot twists require a lot of information to make them work and that's makes them very specific. While I would love to explain why different plot twists work, part of them working is them fooling you and hindsight bias is kind of a thing.

Keep writing. If a plot twist just isn't working either scrap it or let it sit until you have the information to build reasons why it should work.

[alphajocklover]

I really want a hot boyfriend. does instajock always make you straight or can I use it on a guy to make him more my type? (and maybe also make me more his type)

So, I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, one that I want to clear up. While I do my best to report on different transformation methods, I can’t include every detail about every one of them. My posts are relatively short and don’t always cover everything, because if I did it would take forever. The lack of details, plus some distracting pictures, leads to a lot of people getting details mixed up or getting confused. It’s happened before, and I think it’s what is happening here. I say this because as far as I can remember I have never mentioned anything about InstaJock turning someone straight.

InstaJock can change a person's sexuality, theoretically, through the settings and details section that I've mentioned in previous posts. The thing is, it normally doesn’t. Instajock changes its users personality, their body, and their mind, but for some reason their sexuality will usually stay the same. They’ll become more openly sexual, and also often very flirtatious to fit their new jock persona, but their sexual identity doesn’t change. Even when their sexuality does change it usually turns them gay, not straight.  For some reason the app's already confusing setting page is set up so it's a lot easier to set your sexuality to gay then to straight. My best guess for why the app is set up that way is that the creator, or creators, are gay themselves and have a thing for jocks. I mean, you don’t make a seemingly impossible app that changes people into dumb jocks if you don’t have some sort of kink for it.. So, If you use the app on someone who's already gay you’ve probably got nothing to worry about. Chances are they’ll stay gay, unless they happen to have a huge conversion kink and are really good with computers. Anyways, now that we’ve cleared up that issue let's get into the specifics of your issue. 

Changing someone's personality and identity so that they’ll be your ideal boyfriend is… pretty questionable, if I’m being honest. But so is much of what happens in the world of transformations, so I’ll focus on the ‘how to’ rather than the morals. Your first problem is one I’ve brought up before: You can only give someone the app if you already have the app. Only an already transformed Jock can invite another person to InstaJock. You’d only be able to transform him,but only if you are changed yourself. I know you said you’d be with being changed, but once you become a jock figuring out the app will be much harder, so you might not end up his type, or he might not end up yours. I think your best bet would be to convince a jock to change both of you. InstaJock users can send out multiple invites at once, so it would be easy even for him. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes a dumb mistake. He is a jock afterall.

I do hope this works out for you. Not because I approve of what you’re doing, but because there are a lot of ways this could go wrong. One of you could have your sexuality changed when you get transformed, the jock who changes you both might make you brothers instead of boyfriends, or you and he could just not click. Just because someones your type doesn’t mean they’re the right person for you. Even if you and your target don’t end up together, I think you will have a much easier time getting a boyfriend after you use InstaJock. I hate to be shallow, but dating is usually easier when you have a 6 pack and huge pecs.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

imagining ghoul just being completely dazzled by vaultie reader….their beauty, their clean teeth and nails, their skin…the softest, smoothest skin he’s seen in hundreds of years. he could hardly remember how it looked til now.

he’d watch over you while you slept by the fire he made with such fascination, studying your features like this when he knew you wouldn’t be able to raise an eyebrow at him and he could allow himself to be relaxed and let down his tough guy wall (after all, you only just met a few days before).

and when you roll up the pants of your suit one day in the heat and expose your legs…he sees they’re perfectly waxed (who knew they had that in the vaults?) and it takes everything he has not to just reach out and touch them.

Smooth Skin

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller

Word Count: 3,109

Warnings: smut (18+), sexual tension, masturbation (male), mild somnophilia, very mild angst.

Summary: Cooper's new companion is beyond distracting.

Notes: Another excellent submission! I have had VERY similar thoughts about how people in the vaults would still adhere to so many old grooming practices that had long disappeared from most of the Wasteland. It would be such a weird thing for non-vault dwellers to see, and not being able to maintain them would be quite the shock for vault dwellers.

Also, this poor old man wouldn't consciously recognize the feeling of "arousal inspired by a specific person" if you beat him over the head with it. It's been about 200 years since he felt it.

Cooper was beginning to wonder if he'd been screwed.

Holding the deeply familiar vial up to the light once more, he gave the liquid contents a shake, examining the consistency, the color, the weight. For the half dozenth time that hour, he lifted it to the open cavity in his face where his nose once sat, inhaling deeply, testing for any unfamiliar odors, ultimately finding none. Lifting the solution to his lips, he tasted it, once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth with deep suspicion.

Everything seemed to be normal about the latest bunch of vials he'd acquired, at least on the surface. However, he was beginning to worry that he'd been given some sort of dud batch, and now he was starting to dissolve into some sort of ferality.

But this didn't feel like the dozens of other times he'd cut it close over the years, when his chest constricted, fighting for every breath as his mind began to cloud with aggressive thoughts, making him feel ready to lash out at anything that moved. No, he could breathe just fine, and he didn't necessarily feel aggressive, but he did feel oddly tense and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. It didn't seem like anything had changed about his treatment.

Then again, something else had changed pretty drastically over the last few days.

Standing in the baking sun, he waited impatiently for the little vault-dweller he'd inexplicably managed to become attached to to finish her business, infinitely more fidgety than usual. He scanned the horizon with uncharacteristically anxious eyes, his boot tapping in the dirt.

"C'mon, Vaultie! Move your ass!" he called, harsher than he intended, but when the girl came scurrying up out of the ditch, he offered no apology, simply jerking his head in the direction they'd already been headed down the road, waiting for her to get a step or two ahead of him so he could follow, watching her closely.

Very closely.

The old cowboy prided himself on his ability to analyze people, to figure things out about them long before they were disclosed. It had proved an immensely useful skill over and over again. This girl, however, confused him. The pristine cheeriness of her was unsettling, making her stand out clear as day against the dingy, angry, consuming Wasteland.

He didn't trust it, frankly. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone who was genuinely selfless and kind simply because they felt it the right thing to do. She was definitely hiding something, concealing her true nature, but at least she was good at it. Besides, he'd be lying to himself if he said part of the reason he allowed her to tag along with him wasn't that he didn't want to walk past her pretty little corpse on the side of the road in a few days...as if there would be a corpse leftover. At least, a recognizable one.

Ahead of him, the girl caught her boot on a crack in the ancient asphalt, sending her stumbling; his quick reflexes kicked in almost instantly, and he yanked her back by her suit sleeve, sighing when she cast a sheepishly apologetic glance his way. He rolled his eyes and gave her a small push to keep it moving, watching as her hair swished back and forth with her movements.

How many decades had it been since he'd seen a woman with long hair? Maybe it had even been a century, or more. Most women in the Wasteland kept their hair cropped fairly short; easier to care for, less for someone to grab onto if you were attacked. Shampoo was still fairly easy to acquire, but only because most people didn't have consistent access to enough clean water to bathe with. Hair could also be sold in some cases, and many people found themselves desperate enough to do something like that in this world, unfortunate as it was.

But this girl, her dark curls hung down to her waist, flowing down her back and shoulders elegantly, or laid along her spine in a neat braid when she got especially red and sweaty. It was so shiny; he wanted to run his fingers through it for some reason, so badly that when she'd bumped into him their first day of travel, her view obscured by the dark curtain, he didn't even think to scold her, too busy willing himself to not thread his fingers into the soft strands. When he was close enough, he noticed that it smelled like wildflowers.

He'd met her just outside Filly. Where she was headed, a few settlements northwest to find an aunt or a sister or a grandmother or something, wasn't the most perilous route she'd shown him on her Pip Boy (in a very surreal conversation where she'd treated him like he was any other man), but she was already showing that she wasn't truly equipped to make it there intact. Hell, she had flagged him down for directions, in a move that had made him genuinely wonder if he hadn't done too much Jet that morning. That little maneuver wouldn't get her killed with him (at least, on the right day) but it would quickly get her robbed or worse with many others.

His first instinct had been to leave her to her fate, but he found that he just couldn't leave her there on the side of the road, that blinding white smile, those big, round eyes, her basically pristine vault suit making her stand out like a sore thumb. Begrudgingly, he had agreed to let her walk with him to where she was going.

She tired rather quickly compared to him, his condition making thermoregulation much less of a concern. His soft new companion, however, was unaccustomed to the sun, to the heat, and was often too exhausted to continue in any real capacity by the time the sun set. The nights got cold, colder than it seemed she'd anticipated, and she chattered her way through that whole first evening; each subsequent night, he'd built a small fire to keep her warm through the coldest part. It annoyed him immensely, having to expose them in the dark like that, but, oddly, he found that he equally disliked watching her shiver on the ground.

"Do you think we could stop for a while?" she asked suddenly, stopping in her tracks to turn to him and nearly slamming into his chest in the process. His hand braced on her shoulder, slightly shoving her aside so they didn't collide; the hand that touched her tingled when he pulled it away, and he cast a quick glance at his palm.

"You're really pushin' it today, kid. You know that?" he growled, his tone dripping with unconcealed irritation. They could easily get at least a few more hours of walking in before the sun went down, and once she stopped walking for the day, it was hard to get her going again.

The way her eyes widened at him before dropping to the ground actually made him feel guilty, flooring him just a little. He held his face in its usual neutral mask.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, chastened. "I'm just not used to walking so long in the heat."

Immediately, he rolled his eyes, though whether he was rolling them at her or at himself, he genuinely didn't know. Casting his eyes further down the road, then around where they'd stopped, they fell onto a clutch of old, dead trees and rocks, a small amount of shade gathering there. It was well concealed enough, he supposed.

"Fine. We can stop over there. But we're gonna get a few more miles in today, at least, so don't get comfy."

Flashing him those perfect teeth again, she quickly made her way off the road and threw herself down at the base of the largest tree, hiding from the sun as best as she could. He took the opportunity to dig some food out of his bag, have another smoke or two, and reflect on his choices, his back to her by and large as he watched the road.

"I didn't know the sun was so bright." she huffed after while, her tone almost petulant. "Or so hot."

He turned back to her, a slick reply about her general naivete locked and loaded, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of her sat there on the ground, tugging off her boots and socks. Folding each sock into a neat little ball, she tucked them into their corresponding mate and sat them aside, stretching her legs out in front of her. Quiet, he watched her roll up each pant leg to her knee, as high as the cut of the material would allow, reclining back in the small patch of shade she'd found.

Those toned, smooth calves that peeked out at him were the most intriguing thing he'd seen in a minute, his eyes practically glued to the exposed skin. There was a softness to her that he thought didn't exist anymore; in her supple body, the way she actually held a little extra fat from years of being fed and safe in a vault, the soft, clear expanse of her skin, her clean, manicured fingernails. Oddly enough, he found himself deeply wanting to reach out and wrap one of his hands around her ankle, the other running up the taut muscle of her leg. He shoved the feeling down and turned back to the road, fidgeting.

A while later, the sun was dipping behind the horizon, but still frying everything it touched when she finally spoke again.

"Do you wanna get going soon?" she called, tone much more relaxed than before.

He turned to look at her again, having avoided doing so for over an hour, her sleeves rucked up to her elbows as well, and shook his head.

"Nah. Might as well just bed down here and get some sleep. Good a place as any, I guess. I wanna cover some real ground tomorrow." he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "Get your rest, princess. If you can't keep up tomorrow, I'm leaving your ass behind."

She shot him a look, somewhere between evaluating whether or not he was serious and rolling her eyes at his continued unpleasantness, but she didn't respond outside of a simple nod, sinking back down onto the ground and closing her eyes. Once the sun went down fully, he went around gathering up dried sticks and brush to build a small fire, setting up near where she was obviously quickly falling asleep, curled up on her side and using her backpack as a pillow.

Cooper kept watch for a few hours as it quickly darkened, the girl falling soundly asleep as he sat polishing his guns. Eventually, he grew bored of weapon maintenance, and his eyes were drawn to the vault dweller lying a few feet to his side.

He leaned closer, allowing himself to inspect her face closer than he'd had a chance to thus far. Walking behind her all day allowed him plenty of time to study her silhouette, her gait, the dancing length of her hair. But her face was always hidden, and when she turned to face him, he felt unable to look her in the eye for too long without that itch creeping into his brain, sending him searching through his pockets for his inhaler.

Now that he could take a long, uninterrupted look at her without worrying about being caught, it finally dawned on him, though, not immediately:

Fuck, she was beautiful.

And she was, and would have been if he'd met her in another life, too, each feature of her more appealing than the next. That long hair had been braided back away from her face, the length of it coiled like a snake along her back as she snored ever-so-lightly, her head sitting crookedly against her backpack. Before he could even think about it, his hand had already been tugged loose of his glove and reached out to softly pet at it, the strands silken under his bare fingers.

When did he get so close to her?

He thought back to her exposed legs, now hidden back away beneath her pant legs, kicked most of the way back down to assist in keeping her warm, and thought about how there had been no hair there. Many aspects of grooming that had once been normal were long lost to him, but that was certainly one of the biggest ones. He had completely forgotten that women once generally shaved the hair from their legs, and how big a deal it was considered when they didn't. He'd thought it was a silly thing to expect then; now, it just seemed like a sad thing to fixate on, with all that had been going on at the time.

However, that didn't stop him from imagining how smooth, how silky her legs would feel if he ran his hands along them, how high the smoothness would go until he would be able to feel the presence of downy little body hairs, the likes of which he hadn't had himself in centuries. Would they start at her knees? Or would he have to feel all the way up to the tops of her pillowy thighs to feel them? He remembered, vaguely, that some women would shave between their legs, too, and wondered if she did that as well.

Why was he thinking about what was between her legs?

His brain was so foggy the longer he looked at her, his one free hand quickly moving to dig his inhaler out of his pocket, taking the longest drag he could take off of it. It didn't clear his mind, didn't stop him from feeling like he wanted to touch more of her, to lean close and smell her, taste her. A hard shudder broke down his spine, and his cock set to throbbing in his pinstriped pants, his teeth gnashing. He was anxious to get to the next big settlement so he could buy new vials; he was convinced there was something wrong with these ones.

Regardless, he could breathe fine and didn't feel like a threat to the girl, necessarily...so his attention shifted, rather sourly, to his aching erection, now straining against his thigh.

It wasn't that he never masturbated; he was still a man beneath all the rads and rot, and his sex drive had never fully died, only dwindled down to a single flame whose presence didn't usually draw any attention from him. But it wasn't something he relished in, no more than eating food he couldn't really taste anymore to sustain himself or feigning sleep to allow his legs and back to rest. It was simply another need that had to be met on occasion; a quick tug at himself, not thinking of anything in particular, until he spilled onto the ground and went on with his life. It never needed to be more than that.

Now, however, his entire gut was aflame, the smell of her filling the air and further intoxicating him, his still-gloved hand moving to press against his cock through the fabric, the feeling leaving him arching his hips slightly up into his own touch. He wanted so badly to touch more than her hair, but knew that it wasn't advisable; the girl slept more soundly than anyone in the Wasteland, it seemed, but if she were to wake up and find him touching himself beside her, who knows what trouble there would be?

He couldn't touch her, but that didn't mean he couldn't study her, running his eyes over each part of her over and over again as the light and warmth of the fire slowly died down. He was tracing curve of her breasts and the way it flowed into the little roll of her belly for the umpteenth time, grinding hard against his hand, by the time the flames died down completely. She'd curled almost completely in on herself, hiding her face against her hands, and he wished he could look closer at it again as he slunk closer and closer to the edge.

As if she could read his mind, she suddenly rolled onto her back, resettling quickly as her head slid fully off of the bag. The mild highlights of the moon played along her face and torso, her plush lips parting in a soft, dreamy sigh. Fleetingly, he wondered if she would make that sound for him if he touched her just right, and, embarrassingly, that thought was enough to put an end to him.

The orgasm that washed over him granted some mild relief, his spend pooling in a sticky mess in his pant leg as he let out a few quiet heavy breaths, the hand that had been touching her hair scratching lines into the dirt, but it was bittersweet. In the haze afterwards, for the first time in a long, long time, he thought about Barb, about the way she would sigh his name when she came apart, about how soft and warm she would feel against him when he held her close after they made love. The deeply buried pain behind his breastbone that had started the day he'd found out the truth about her kicked up once more.

Sitting in the dark silence, a hard edge of discomfort and annoyance steeled up his spine, leaving him still in his ruminations until the uncomfortable feeling of the mess in his pants became intolerable. Letting out a huff, he shifted away from her and walked a few steps away as quietly as possible to clean himself up as best as he could, shame thick in the crisp air. When he finished, he dug into his pocket for an angry cigarette, jamming it between his thin lips and turning back towards her to face away from the breeze as he lit it.

But when he looked at her once more, really let himself look at her, he felt that pain in his breast soften, her soft skin almost glowing in the moonlight as she slept, peacefully unaware of anything but her blissful rest. It wasn't something he saw often. When he sat back down beside her, grabbing for his loose glove in the dark, he sat close enough that the outside of his thigh touched the arm under her head, pulling on his lit smoke absentmindedly as he continued to study his little companion. Her even, steady breathing was quite soothing to him, actually.

He was still going to buy a new set of vials.

[missxwrites]

new beginnings - tom kazansky

tom 'iceman' kazansky x reader

Summary: Tom finds his pregnant wife in the heart of their shared home, the sight of her simply takes his breath away. Word count: 1,120+ Warnings: fluuuufffff, SERIOUSLY FLUFFY SOFT TOM, pregnancy, afab!reader (still working on gender neutral tone as best I can), assumptions about size (I play into the plus size side of things because I am plus size, but there's no direct mention), no use of y/n (just she/her pronouns) A/N: This is only rough edited by myself, I'm so sorry for any mistakes. (Im rusty as f*ck at fic writing) I've had this fic in my back pocket for months, please enjoy all the fluff. I'm head over heels for val kilmer as a person, and I'm well aware that the gif is not from Top Gun... this is however an aged up version of Commander Kazansky (;

Tom wasn't typically a man of many words, even after Top Gun and becoming a commander... He was still on track to becoming an admiral in a couple years and his stoic ice-cold exterior has carried him far in the Navy. No, there wasn't much that could get in his way now. 

Except for her.

She melted his every icy edge. Especially now that she's 7 months pregnant with his baby. The way she waddled around the sizable estate that he purchased the year they got married. It'd been nearly 7 years since that beautiful day, but Tom and his wife decided to focus on their separate careers before committing to living with little ones under foot. He was nearing his mid-to-late 30's now and with his career excelling, his mind constantly settled on imagining what her beautiful features would be like mixed with his. 

Would they get his ice-like stare or her warm bright irises that see right through to his soul? Would they get his pin straight hair that stuck up in all the wrong places or her beautiful, textured hair that fell beautifully in every light? 

His mind would run rampant every time he looked at her, his eyes never failing to trail up and down her whole figure. He would linger on her face, taking in how absolutely mesmerizing she was in the pregnancy glow before darting down to her ever-changing belly. It was very noticeable now, and the way she braced the underside of the bump softened his stare every time. Even through the literal growing pains of making a human, she looked ethereal. He subconsciously pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Tom was fully convinced that she could never be more beautiful than she was in this exact moment. 

With a warm but soft chuckle under his breath, he stood slowly and made his way over to her. The book she'd been perusing at the kitchen counter happened to be a cookbook he got her for Christmas in the early years of their relationship. He'd assumed she must be craving something specific by the way she quickly flipped through the pages. He placed his hands over the tops of her shoulders, giving a gentle rub to the tense muscles in her shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss her neck. The smell of her conditioner and body wash from her shower this morning is almost intoxicating. His body was warm, causing her to lean back on his chest.

"You're absolutely radiant dear," Tom stated, a smile forming across his lips. "And absolutely distracting..." He hasn't been able to take his eyes off her since she entered the kitchen adjacent to the doors of his office. He'd been trying to get through some paperwork before finding her to ask what you might want for lunch as she graced her way into the heart of their shared home.

She was one of the only women that could ever truly take his breath away, though many tried. Even in a moment like this... with his wedding band heavy on her finger and growing the fruit of his love for her in her tummy, he still had to remind himself to breathe.

His large arms made their way down her body until they gently embraced her and her bump. He supported her belly gently, the same way the two had learned in the parenting classes Tom insisted on attending once she confirmed her pregnancy. The soft hum that escaped her throat told him that she needed this. Her eyes fluttered closed as he stood there, swaying gently with her in his arms.

“Blueberry.” Was the only thing that snapped the quiet of the moment between the two of them. Her words were soft in his ears. Tom raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he leaned forward to place his chin on her shoulder. The pages of the cookbook landed on a muffin recipe that had been dog-eared and made enough times to sport the stains of baking chaos. 

Another low chuckle reverberated through his chest. “Cravings?” Tom placed another gentle kiss on her neck as he slowly released his childbearing wife to turn to the refrigerator behind him. This recipe was one he was familiar with, having made it several times over the years. He grabbed out the bowl of blueberries, buttermilk, butter and eggs while his wife gathered the remaining dry ingredients. 

A quiet melodic sound filled the kitchen as Tom watched his wife pull up the large glass bowl from the cabinet. The smile spread across his face as he recognized their wedding song falling from her lips. “I wanna know what love is…”

Tom set the cold ingredients out on the counter, crossing the kitchen swiftly to pull her back into his arms. “I want you to show me…” He whispered to her, a hum parting his lips as he twirled her around slowly in the afternoon light of their kitchen. He mirrored her radiant smile as they slowly swayed together, her baby bump separating them a little more than usual but neither of them cared. 

After enjoying the embrace of her husband, Tom’s wife pushed him away gently as she resumed making the muffins lil’ kazansky was craving so badly. The blonde commander only laughed as he kissed her hand before parting their embrace. He too busied himself making muffins again wordlessly as he reached into the bottom drawer of the oven. Grabbing out the old muffin tin, he paused to preheat the oven as he lingered there for a moment.

Tom’s hand immediately found his wife’s lower back as he brought the tin over to the island countertop, using the other to place the white liners in each cup. A devious giggle caught his attention and before he could even blink, she’d managed to touch his nose with a flour-covered hand. His steely eyes closed suddenly as she swiped at his face, unable to hide the slow grin that parted his lips as he dipped his own hand into the bowl of flour. 

He laughed as he pulled her back from the counter slightly, his flour covered hand landing gently over the top of her baby bump. The white handprint was stark on her dark dress. The gasp that escaped from the woman in his arms only made him laugh harder as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at her husband’s antics. 

"What am I going to do with you, Thomas Kazansky? ” She said exasperatedly despite a smile growing on her face.

“Love me.” He said simply, his eyes gazing deeply into hers as he pulled her in close again. “And make muffins with me forever.” She laughed, her heart full, as she accepted his proposal.

[melminli]

Blueberry Tartlet

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

summery - coriolanus hated district scum, and he hated his longing to be near one. acting on his desires may be one of the things he wanted most, but doing so would mean that he had to betray himself.

word count: 1.2k

contains: district reader living in the capitol, fluff, coryo fighting his inner demons, slightly dark themes, coryo being a simp

part II

He hated this. He hated the atmosphere. He hated the lights, the loud voices around him, and even worse, he hated the way his eyes landed on a specific figure in the room every few minutes. Don't bother. You're just here to get something in your stomach. Coriolanus said to himself, smiling kindly for a moment as two of his teachers walked past him. It vanished as quickly as they passed him, and he took another sip from the glass of Posca in his hand so he wouldn't stand idly by. And maybe to maintain your reputation, but that's it.

Right after he finished that thought, his gaze found itself back to the spot he was trying to avoid, and he inwardly cursed himself for turning his very annoying behavior into a very annoying reflex. To his slight disappointment, his blue eyes could no longer make out the figure they were looking for, and for a brief moment, Coriolanus tried to convince himself that this was for the best. This was a good chance for him to keep his gaze away from any distractions for the rest of the evening.

"Hello, Coriolanus." Your voice suddenly appeared from his right side, unintentionally surprising the boy. "Is Sejanus not here? You're rarely seen without him at your side." You asked him and leaned with your elbows against the standing table where he was at.

All it took was a few seconds for the blond student to regain his composure and accept that this was actually better than his previous reasoning. Coriolanus could try to bullshit himself, but he wasn't stupid. "Well, I'm not really sure, to be honest, but we don't hang around that much." He replied with a charming smile as he met your gaze.

You, in your neatly pressed red school uniform and well-groomed appearance. You with your pretty smile and nice character. If he didn't know any better, he could easily mistake you for a Capitol citizen.

But he knew better. He should know better. You were exactly the same kind of animal he could watch in the Hunger Games like a spectator at a circus. Well, he doubted it was likely with your family's position here at the Capitol, but it could be you. Fighting for your life in a junk arena with rats, dying only to be remembered by no one but your own family, and not even getting the chance to have a dream for the future.

But here we are. You had more money than him, more clothes, more friends, and more of...everything really. Coriolanus didn't know which he loathed more, the fact that you were so lucky in life to escape your cruel fate as district filth or the fact that he sometimes stared absently around and imagined placing a kiss on the lips of such a person.

Maybe it was both.

You laughed. "The way you said it, makes it sound like you prefer it this way. Am I right? Do you rather prefer to be on your own?" You asked him and could actually imagine that quite well if you were being honest.

"I don't mind company." He simply replied and leaned a little closer to you. "If it's pleasant, of course."

Your eyes turned away briefly to look around the huge room. "Well, who likes unpleasant company?" You asked him as your gaze fell on one particular couple in the room. "You know what? I take that back. I suppose there are a few masochists among us who...crave it." You just said, not quite able to find the right words to express the scene in front of you.

Blue eyes followed your gaze and saw the two infamous people. "They're still together?" Coriolanus asked himself, slightly surprised but didn't really find it unexpected. "Didn't he cheat on her?" He whispered to you, thinking back to what he heard. "Like three times or something? Wasn't it like one time with her sister, too?"

You shook your head. "No, it was with her cousin, actually." A few seconds of silence followed. "Well, that certainly doesn't make it better, though. I don't know, I just don't think that it can be that good, you know?" You joked only to meet his confused expression. You could see him about to ask what you meant, but you didn't really want to go there. "Anyway, we can all agree that the two of them should break up."

Coriolanus just shrugged his shoulders. I don't know, it's kind of fun to watch. "I don't think they will. She's...too much in love with him."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Can you really overlook things, just like that, though? Because of love? I find that hard to believe..." You mumbled to yourself, not liking the thought that much.

What you said reminded Coriolanus of reality again. That's right. You were a girl from District One. It was the closest to the Capitol and yet there was a clear line between them. His eyes watched your figure from the side. Well, certainly not clear enough.

Because of the war, it was almost impossible for the remaining rich people of the Capitol to get their hands on luxury goods. That was the task of District One, and they refused to continue playing slaves just so some ass could look pretty. If he remembered correctly, your mother was the only one who helped out the Capitol by designing and producing soldiers' uniforms in her small company. Your family had betrayed your own people but had secured a golden ticket to the Capitol, where your mother's designs were in high demand. Especially now that fewer people in the Capitol have to think about survival, they can finally worry about their expensive looks again.

You were no better than that stupid Sejanus, although you were definitely prettier. He sighed to himself. He didn't like how he had to keep reminding himself of that fact, but he couldn't forget it. She's a District girl. She always will be, nothing will ever change that. He reminded himself and couldn't stop himself from looking longingly at your figure. You will never be able to marry her, she is not worthy to bear the name Snow.

Your eyes sparkled as an Avox held out his tray for you to grab a fruit tart. You thanked him. "Look, they have some with blueberries. They're the best, trust me." You said and handed him the second one you had quickly grabbed. You saw him look at it a little robotically. "Don't worry, if you don't like it, I can eat it. Just try it."

She's not worthy, but she'd look so pretty with it. Coriolanus thought to himself as he said your name along with his last name in his head. "No way, those are my favorites too." He said and took a bite.

He liked the peach ones more.

[merriepy]

EMPTY HEART

•. Leon S. Kennedy x gn!reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

cw: /

summary: After not seeing Leon - your boyfriend - in over a month, you start to re-evaluate your relationship with him

a/n: I took so long to finish that one, I'm so sorry; no third person pronouns used for the reader; no specific Leon mentioned but written with his re4r-version in mind + reader is < 30

words: 2,7k

The apartment always seemed so very empty when he wasn't around. So very quiet. So very lifeless.

Him potentially dying was the only thing in your mind when he wasn't by your side. Maybe the uncertainty made these thoughts so unbearable. You knew nothing about him, and he was your partner. The word fiancé had only crossed your mind ever so slightly whenever he laid next to you in bed, which wasn't very often since he was out most of the time.

He worked for the government. That's the only concrete thing you knew. The rest was what you had pieced together via reading classified information he left laying around in the apartment (he wasn't the most organized kind of guy) and through the very limited amount of things he told you. In moments of weakness.

Leon hadn't been home in over a month. Fighting bioweapons. Or something. You didn't know what it specifically meant but it definitely sounded dangerous. And it was. While he wouldn't return visibly wounded, you would always new soft scars on his already wounded skin, telling the story of who he was and what his life had turned him into. He would leave on short notice and just return one day without ever contacting you during his leave. You've gotten used to waking up alone, well aware that we might not ever return from his mission. But orders were orders and you knew that even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay with you for his job had to be his top priority.

You had placed down the controller on the coffee table in front of your sofa. Playing videogames did not turn out to be enough of a distraction from the matter at hand, and both everything related to your own job and household chores had already been done. The pressure had made the air unbreathable so you had tried to pull your body over to the balcony to get some fresh oxygen, yet your limbs didn't move. Saying that your relationship with Leon had some negative side effects as well would be an understatement. It was terrible whenever he was gone, knowing that you, his partner, future fiancé even, knew so little about him and had no control over all the dangerous things he was put through was more than awful.

But you appreciate whenever he was with you, laying next to you in bed and his random little signs of affection that had made you fall in love with him. The sacrifices would be worth in the end if he was able to survive all of his jobs, if the two of you would be able to hold hands and finally seal your bond in marriage.

Though his dangerous job wasn't the only thing bothering you. To be fair, this particular point was a you-problem so you would never bring it up anywhere but your so tightly sealed own realm. But you were jealous. Of his co-workers. The fact they're able to seem him so much more often than you, that they knew so much more about him;

though worst was the thought that he could be honest with them. He didn't have to hide anything from them and it ate away at your heart like a wolf feasting on its prey.

Doubts would cross your mind, whether you truly knew Leon. Why would he prefer to spend time with you if he could have someone who he could be true to, someone who was able to understand his struggles on a level you yet could only hope to reach one day.

These thoughts circled through your head on a daily, and they didn't seem to stop; even when he was with you, hugging you in his sleep.

You weren't a noble person, if he was ready to commit to you despite having better alternatives you would take him any day, just because you couldn't remotely stand the thought of him being with another person. Perhaps it was selfish, but you preferred that way more than seeing him leave because you told him to.

The clock strikes 11.

You finally moved up from the couch and gazed through the endless night sky. You read a quote once. 'As long as we live under the same night sky and see the same stars, we will always be united.' It made you wonder if you were truly living under the same sky as Leon because it surely didn't feel like it. He was somewhere, but you weren't. You were here, without him. And he was out on a mission with someone, and that someone wasn't you.

As you finished giving into the thoughts in your head, you went ahead on your normal evening routine including closing all the windows, turning off all the lights and preparing your outfit for the next day. With each passing day you tried harder and harder to avoid looking up at the very few pictures of you and him hung up on the walls for it brought to much pain. You've gotten good at it, rushing by as the dead eyes of the picture stared at you relentlessly.

The last light had been turned off and you were just about to go to sleep as you felt way too exhausted to actually take care of tomorrow's choice of clothing when you suddenly heard the door open up. You knew that realistically it would be Leon but the small thought that it could be a robber who conveniently had the key to your front door and just walked in like nothing did linger in your mind, so you quickly entered the closest room and waited for sounds. Fear traveled through your body as you couldn't hear anything anymore. No steps, no doors opening, no nothing. As you instinctively hid behind the door so you wouldn't immediately be seen when being opened, you heard the doorknob being twisted.

A hard, bright light entered through the soft crack in the door though you knew that you had turned every last light off. You paid attention to the shadow forming on the floor as the person stepped through the door. "(Y/N)? Is everything.. alright?" you heard your partner's voice as he walked into the room. You moved away from the behind the door, slightly upset. "Oh my god Leon, you could've just immediately said something when you entered! I was so scared that you were some criminal breaking in!" You stared into his beautiful, blue eyes and despite the anger towards him and the entire situation surrounding him and his work, you could help but be glad that he was finally with you again.

He took a few steps back to turn the light switch on and the flashlight of his phone off. His silhouette was now a lot clearer and you couldn't see any visible wounds on his face and arms which was a big relief. Though he seemed tired and definitely mentally exhausted. "I just thought something might be wrong," he replied before pulling you into a deep hug. "I'm sorry, darling." You felt his chin resting on your head as he carefully moved his hands over your back. "I've missed you so fucking much, you know that?"

You bit your tongue, quite literally, as you remembered the jealousy that had eaten you up during this time of separation and desperation. But you would never tell him, it was a you problem after all, and he seemed to care so deeply since he didn't let you go and only tightened his hug the longer it continued. It seemed so genuine and real, and it almost convinced your irrational head that he was the one though you knew deep down that it couldn't be swayed. Irrationality, after all.

He had only reluctantly pulled away from you and made sure to place a soft kiss on your cheek before giving you a little room to breathe. "We should go the bedroom. It's late after all, and I have to go to work tomorrow," you suggested as you tried to examine the parts of his body that were revealed to you, making sure he really wasn't injured and you didn't miss anything; and maybe, just maybe, that irrational part of yours was looking for something else as well. "Do you need to eat or something? I maybe have some leftovers in the fridge." He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not hungry." "What about your stuff?" "In my trunk. I'll get it out tomorrow." You nodded. "I'll just quickly go to the bathroom and change my clothes. I'll be right with you, darling."

You had made your way from your hiding spot, which you had now identified to be the kitchen, over to the bedroom the two of you shared. It was mostly decorated by you, since you arguably spent a lot more time there than Leon. It filled you with sadness, remembering all the negative things you felt during his absence, and anger, since you now couldn't enjoy his return because of it. You didn't want to experience all of this negativity but it was so much and it didn't seem to stop. The bedsheets felt weirdly cold tonight so you had no desire to burry yourself into them. You were just laying on top of it in starfish position, waiting for the door to open once more. You heard the sound of the city's night life unfolding below your apartment which during this particular time felt somewhat comfortable.

Leon had entered the room not shortly after. He was shirtless and just wore boxer shorts, like he always did for sleeping. He smiled as he saw how you were stretched out on the bed. Before you could move away on your own, he had already picked you up and moved you again so carefully to the side. He was being so extra soft today. Once he had stopped adjusting his position next to you, you took the chance to reach out your hand to caress his cheek, something you had longed to do for so long. As your fingers touched his skin your partner closed his eyes, breathing calmly. "Your hair grew a little bit?" "Don't be silly, it hasn't been long enough for it to grow." "It's been over a month." Saying it out loud. 'It's been over a month.' You couldn't really hide the pain that tagged along in your voice, showing him the surface of your current state of mind.

You wanted to pull your hand away from his cheek, but Leon had stopped you. He had placed his own on yours before placing kisses on your fingers. "I didn't know it had been that long. All I know was that I missed you." His voice sounded so weak and now you felt bad that you were ever doubting him. He seemed so genuinely sad about not being able to be by your side. "It's okay," you comforted him before moving a little closer. You softly placed your lips on his, pulling him to a quick kiss. "I need to wake up in a few hours though," you stated as you turned around to set your alarm for the morning. "So let's talk in the morning. Surely you're not gonna immediately leave again the next day," you joked and even though it was meant to come off as one your tone was awfully serious. And in your mind it was, since you were on the edge whenever he was around due to the uncertainty whether or not we would still be there during the next morning. He knew your stance on this matter but just chuckled along. "Yeah, let's hope."

Leon had reached his arms out with an apologetic look on his face. He had these puppy eyes, always looking so genuinely sad and hurt. You couldn't help yourself and snuggled into his arms, burying your face in his chest in the process. This feeling was something you wished to experience on the daily but it simply wasn't possible, so you tried to be satisfied with what you had. His hand trailed over your head ever so slightly and the kisses he had placed on your arm that was wrapped around his neck shortly after were warm and full love. You knew that he wanted to make it up to you and it made you happy, seeing how he cared despite the questionable circumstances.

Feeling his arms around you gave you the comfort you needed to finally get some proper rest, a proper rest away from all the negative thoughts that had haunted you before. Now that he was with you, everything else felt obsolete.

It was the same, every single time.

He would leave, you would be mad. You would have negative thoughts regarding him and you relationship, he would return before things would get out of hand. You would be content when he was around, he would leave again.

You knew it wasn't his fault. Leon had lost everything and forced into positions he didn't want to be in with no choice of his own. His fingers moving down your curves pushed all the negativity away. "(Y/N).." he mumbled sleepily as he pressed his body as close as physically possible against yours. "I love you. Please, never leave me." Something kept you from responding, maybe it were all these weird fears somewhere in your mind, or maybe because you knew he wasn't yet done talking. "I wish I could be with you every day and leave all of this behind. But I promise I'll make it up to you eventually." His head was deeply buried in-between your neck and shoulder, seeking in this familiar feeling of your skin. "Once this is all over we'll get married, and I'll be the best husband you could ever imagine."

You had to stay strong and keep the tears in for now. Thoughts circled through your mind like crazy. He must be apologising because he cheated, because he had to convince himself not to leave you, because he just wanted to keep you by his side for fun. You didn't want to think any of this, you wanted to believe that he loved you as deeply as he made it seem. A weak kiss followed his words before he closed his eyes. You only now noticed that he thought you were asleep this whole time. And you liked to keep it that way.

Leon only had you on his mind during his absence. A picture of you was in his pocket 24/7 and he always liked to look at it during moments of extreme despair. No other person could cheer him up as much as you did. That's why he knew he wanted to marry you one day. It was the only right thing to do.

You knew so too.

Though acceptance was hard those days. You didn't want to end up with a dead husband in the next few years, that prospect frightened you, yet you knew that if the day would come where you would stand before his casket, you'd regret not making him yours.

"You want me to be your wife?" you asked, hoping that he hadn't yet fallen asleep. His grip tightened ever so slightly around your waist. "I wanted to wait," he admitted quietly. His broken, soft voice reminded you of the Leon you had met those years ago, the aspiring policeman, "until this is all over but... this will be the rest of my life. I want to give you the chance to drop out if you don't want to commit to a life like this." He kissed your neck weakly. "I want you so much. It's so selfish but I can't imagine my future without you."

In the darkness of your bedroom, you searched for his lips. Your fingers softly trailed over them, sealing them shut before you replaced your fingers with your own lips. The kiss was loving, not passionate or anything but it meant so much more to you than pure lust. A single tear left your eye, which was quickly wiped away by Leon's hand.

"Never leave me darling," he mumbled into the kiss before quickly grasping for air. "I would never," you replied as you kissed him on his forehead. "You're my fiance after all."

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[cxrdycxps]

Cat and Mouse • Joel Miller

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

☢️ sexual assault (past) • reader’s motto is gaslight gatekeep girlboss • cocky Joel (needs a warning) • slut Joel • smut • miscommunication ☢️

This was supposed to be one part. It got away from me. I have no regrets. Part two will be up tomorrowish

Joel had a nod. It was a respectful greeting he used for a very specific set of people. He used it exclusively to acknowledge women he had fucked. Tommy had lost count of the amount of women he offered the nod to.

How he was getting away with making his way through half the population of Jackson, Tommy would never know. His brother had given the nod to nearly every single woman of an acceptable age range in town.

“Are you gonna start again once you collect them all?” Tommy asked one evening. He was trying to share a drink with his brother but Joel was like a damn bobble head with all the nodding he was doing.

“Huh?” Joel asked and Tommy only sighed, shaking his head. He took a sip of the watered down whiskey and remembered a time it was him nodding his head at all the women in down town Austin. He had no idea how Joel was able to keep up now.

Tommy was happy to have Maria now, someone to come home to at the end of the day. Someone to share everything with. He could never go back to giving away parts of himself to different women every Friday night. It was made all the better by the fact that it was Maria who chose to love him for all his faults. He didn’t get complacent with her love, he worked for it every single day.

While Tommy was driven to distraction thinking of his wife Joel had found a new target. Tommy watched him lock eyes on you and shook his head, pulling his brother back down into his seat. “Not her.”

“Not her? Why not her?” Joel asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked back to you again and Tommy could see the allure. The tight jeans stole all the attention in the room, your laugh was like a sirens call. But Tommy couldn’t allow it.

“Not up for debate. You can fuck every single woman in town but her. She’s not an option. You’re not allowed.” Tommy didn’t explain his reasoning, only shook his head. Joel grinned at his brother and shook his hand off. “I’ll treat her real nice, promise.”

Tommy let him go. He thought it was personal, that you were a friend of Tommy’s or something. Tommy had never even gotten close and he wouldn’t dare to. You were the choice of most single men in Jackson and some not so single men. But Tommy had watched you chew every last one of them up and spit them all out.

You played with them like a bored barn cat and a field mouse. You let the run rings around you and just when they thought they’d won you deal the killing blow with one lazy swipe of a paw.

Tommy wanted to hate you. Maria had to deal with more than one bruised ego and tell them that no, embarrassing them and breaking up with them was not enough reason to kick you out of the commune.

The men knew better. You’d been doing it for the two years you’d been in Jackson, seeming to take sick pleasure in luring the men in and bringing them down a peg or two. Tommy could only thank the god above you never went near the married men or he knew there would be hell to pay from the possessive wives of Jackson.

You seemed to have some morals, atleast.

Well, that wasn’t exactly fair either. Tommy knew some of what happened to you before Jackson. How the men had treated you in your last camp. They had done much worse than a little embarrassment and ego checking.

Tommy watched you turn into the tap on your shoulder from Joel as he played the polite southern gentleman, just trying to squeeze by to get some drinks. You weren’t fooled, Tommy could tell, even if Joel couldn’t.

And so the game began.

///

“Pardon me, ma’am.” You looked over your shoulder to find Tommy Miller’s brother with an almost bashful look on his face, his hand retreating from where he had tapped your shoulder. “You mind if I squeeze in?”

You blinked at him before smiling demurely, moving a step back so he could reach the bar and gesture to Seth for a drink. You shared a look with Lou, your friend that you had been drinking with, over his shoulder and she shook her head with a laugh and turned away. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Well with good southern manners like that and a Texan twang you can’t be anyone other than Tommy’s-” You paused to look him up and down slowly. “Big brother?”

“You’re gonna tell me Tommy’s got manners?” Joel asked with a laugh, accepting his drink from Seth and leaning an elbow on the bar.

“Nah but I’m sure one of you had to have them.” You told him, smiling when he laughed. You were jostled from behind by someone heading for the bar and you pressed against Joel before backing away slowly. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” He was laying the accent on thick and you smiled at him, looking up from under your eyelashes. You rested one hand on his arm for balance when you were jostled again. “I don’t think we got a proper introduction. I’m Joel, Joel Miller.”

You gave him your name and stepped back to extend your hand to him. He shook it slowly before lifting it and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. You laughed in delight. “Oh you really are a gentleman. I thought those were extinct.”

“Endangered maybe, I don’t know about extinct.” He still held your hand, his thumb smoothing over your skin. You blinked slowly at him when a particularly rough jostle shoved you into his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to steady you and you apologized when you caught yourself with both hands on his chest. “You wanna watch where you’re going, buddy?”

You turned in Joel’s embrace, his arm still tight around you, to find Nolan. You fought a wince knowing that this game could be over before it started if he decided to run his mouth. “It’s fine Joel.”

“It ain’t fine, he can apologize.” Joel insisted and you couldn’t quite tamp down the wince this time when Nolan looked up at you. “Right now.”

“She ain’t worth the breath of an apology.” Nolan scoffed and you bit back a laugh. You had really hurt his feelings and you hadn’t even been trying, not really. “Dirty whore.”

“Now I know you ain’t-” Joel’s chest swelled as he started to defend you and you let your laugh loose.

“Nolan, sweetie. I’m sorry that you and I didn’t work out but it ain’t my fault and I ain’t no whore.” You reminded him, your voice gentle. “I think you just had too much to drink.”

Nolan stared at you for a second, his jaw tense before he looked over your shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it. Sorry about that.”

A low whistle reminded you that you were still in Joel’s grip. He let you go when you twisted back to look at him and found his impressed smile. “Solved that a lot tamer than I woulda.” Joel told you honestly.

“Awh Nolan doesn’t mean any harm.” You told Joel and looked over your shoulder to find the man with his back to you. “Being truthful? Me and Nolan used to date. It’s hard when it doesn’t work out. Jackson is so small.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Always bumpin’ into each other after the fact. Can’t be easy.” Joel allowed and you nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“You sound familiar with the feeling but I was under the impression that you don’t date.” You stole his glass to sip at his drink and he raised his eyebrows both at your comment and your cheek. “We women talk, Mr Miller.”

“Well, like you said. It gets messy. And I don’t like mess.” He admitted, waving at Seth for another drink. You smiled and tipped your head back, finishing his drink.

“I quite like messy.” You told him, catching Lou’s eye where she was lingering off to the side. “Pity you don’t. Cause I don’t do one night stands. Nice talking to you, Joel.”

“Wait, what?” Joel asked when you grabbed your purse from the bar stool. He looked from the empty glass you placed on the bar to your back as you walked away, arm linked with Lou.

Seth rested Joel’s drink on the counter and he took it, ignoring the chuckling bar man. He found his seat beside Tommy again and watched his brother try to hide his smile. “Count yourself lucky. That’s easier than the other men get off.”

“That’s the problem, Tommy.” Joel finished his drink in one swallow. “There wasn’t any getting off. But I’ll change that. She’s sweet, real sweet.”

“She’s gonna chew you up and spit you out, big brother.” Tommy assured him with a laugh. “But someone’s gotta bring you down a peg.”

///

You heard him before you saw him. The thin walls of the greenhouses held no secrets. A fact that a lot of people forgot when they wanted to go gossiping.

Joel Miller wasn’t gossiping though. He was looking for you, asking Betty where you might be found. He had gone as far to check up on your rotation to find you today. That seemed like someone who would play your game.

You didn’t look up when Betty sent him in your direction, picking the strawberries carefully. You were splitting them between baskets, trying to be fair with the size and number distributions. He paused on the threshold but you only hummed under your breath, turning away to grab several more baskets to fill. He cleared his throat and you made yourself jump a little, spinning around to face him.

“My God, Joel.” You huffed, a hand on your chest. He was grinning at you, proud to have caught you unaware. “I was in a world of my own. Make a little noise next time.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, sweetheart.” He leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not an easy woman to track down.”

“Is that so?” You asked him, turning to face him. You leaned back against the work bench, your hands behind your back. “What’s got you tracking me?”

“Can’t a man be neighborly?” He asked, an eyebrow raised and you laughed. He straightened up from the door way and you were in awe of his size, how his broad shoulders filled the space. “Making sure you’re doing alright after putting Nolan in his place the other night?”

“I ain’t worried about Nolan and we ain’t neighbors, Mr Miller.” You reminded him and he looked slightly abashed to have been called out so thoroughly. You wanted to cup his red cheeks and coo at his embarrassment. A big man like Joel, he’d hate that he liked you doing it too.

“If a man was looking to get a little messy, how’d he go about it?” Joel asked and you smiled brightly as his forwardness. “Asking for a friend, of course.”

“Oh well, you can tell your friend that I got a three date rule.” You told Joel, turning back to pick your strawberries. “I like to be wined and dined, not rushed out the back door the following morning.”

“And if he’s got a kid that can’t know. Can that wining and dining be discreet?” Joel asked and you shrugged, turning with a basket of strawberries in your hand.

“If your friend wants to come and cook me dinner in my home, away from prying eyes, I wouldn’t complain.” You told him, holding the strawberries out to him. “For your friend.”

“I’ll be sure to pass all’a that on to him.” Joel tipped his head at you, that infuriating nod he gave all the other women in town.

“Don’t nod at me like that. I ain’t a sure thing and I ain’t your conquest.” You huffed, annoyed you had already given him the strawberries. “You can tell your friend he better try harder than you do.”

“Yes ma’am.” Joel sounded properly chastised but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up at him when he left with a muttered thanks for the strawberries.

You released a breath and smiled to yourself as you finished with the strawberries. He was such an adorable man for the sheer size of him. So quick to apologize when he was in the wrong too. It was endearing.

///

“Fancy seeing you here.” Joel looked up from the basket of blueberries he was examining closely. “Those blueberries hurt your feelings or somethin’?”

“Ellie doesn’t like them too soft.” He explained and you stepped closer to him, looking over the baskets of berries. You selected one and passed it to him. “Thank you.”

“I know how she feels. It’s kind of gross when they turn to mush.” You admitted, lifting a bundle of wild garlic and checking each leaf. “Friday evening. I finish work at seven, by the way.”

“Seven?” Joel asked, his interest moving from the open collar of your blouse to your face. He didn’t look embarrassed to be caught looking.

“If your friend is still looking to get messy.” You prompted and he blinked, nodding his head slowly. You reached for a red bell pepper and turned it over in your hand. “I mean, if he’s up for it.”

“Up for it?” Joel asked, reaching over you to pick a bell pepper of his own. He didn’t bother examining it, tossing it into his basket. You sighed and pulled it back out, tilting it over to show him where it had gone soft.

“Some men aren’t up to the challenge of having to actually get to know someone. Especially when there’s no promise, or even chance, of sex at the end of the night.” You explained while picking a separate pepper and handing it to him. He copied your inspection this time before placing it in his basket.

“I can hold a conversation. Just because I only usually spend one night, doesn’t mean it ain’t a damn good night. You won’t be the first woman I’ve wined and dined.” Joel huffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special.” You huffed, turning on your heel. You checked in with the stall owner and let them check off the food you were taking, ignoring Joel’s attempt to get your attention. The market was too crowded for him to navigate it as quickly as you had.

Joel was left staring after you feeling wrong footed again. He wasn’t sure how he managed to always mess it up with you. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, doing the wrong thing when things were going so good.

He sighed and returned to the stalls, looking over the produce in search of something inspirational enough for dinner with you on Friday. If he was even welcome at this point.

Joel didn’t avoid dating for the mess if it ended badly. He didn’t date cause he hadn’t dated anyone since he was sixteen. Fucking was easy. Dating was complicated.

He stared at the uninspired fruit and vegetables and shook his head, turning on his heel and leaving that decision for later in the week.

///

“Come now,” Tommy sighed, leaning back on your porch with a glass of lemonade in hand. He was regretting agreeing to be on landscaping duty this summer. He was getting too damn old for that old push lawnmower. “He’s not a bad guy. You could just cancel on him.”

“I ain’t cancelling on him.” You shook your head and Tommy sighed. “It ain’t really any of your business either. Joel and I are both consenting adults.”

“He doesn��t know what you’re like.” Tommy sighed and you blinked at him. He didn’t know you well enough for the way he was talking to you.

“What I’m like?” You asked, standing up from the porch swing. Tommy looked up from his spot on the porch steps. “Tell me, Tommy Miller, what am I like?”

“You treat it like a game.” Tommy sighed. You wondered if he was brave or just stupid. “You chew men up and spit ‘em out. You don’t care about hurtin’ them.”

Tommy was leaned with his head back, eyes closed to block out the sun. Like an idiot, he fell for the same complacent safety that everyone in Jackson did. You hadn’t quite gotten that lazy yet and so you could see Joel approach.

“God, Tommy.” You sighed, arms wrapped around yourself. You had yourself twisted away from the direction Joel was approaching from. “I didn’t realize you bought into all the rumors. I’m sorry, I’ll call it off with Joel if you want. I just wanted to get to know him.”

“You got no idea the things the men in this town say. I know it all.” Tommy sighed. “Just leave Joel out of it.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, mouth downturned. “He was nice to me, ain’t too many men been nice to me in my life. He was safe. He stood up to Nolan when he called me a whore the other day. No one ever stood up for me before.”

Tommy looked up when your voice turned thick, suspicious eyes cracked at you. Joel cleared his throat and Tommy knew instantly. You had to give it to Tommy, you liked him. He was loyal to his wife and he took no bullshit from anyone. But he wasn’t going to get in your way.

“Joel!” You put as much surprise into your voice as you could without over playing your part. “We gotta put a bell on you or somethin’.”

“Joel-” Tommy tried but his brother only shook his head, not listening.

“Listen Joel, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can have dinner on Friday.” You padded down the porch steps. You hadn’t put on actual clothes yet, enjoying a rare day off to lounge around in shorts and a camisole. You knew it was working in your favor when Joel smiled gently at you.

“You ain’t cancelling on me cause my brother is an idiot. I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions. I’ll be here Friday and you’ll eat dinner with me.” Joel insisted and you looked back at Tommy who had his jaw clenched.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” You insisted, blinking up at Joel. He only shook his head, raising his hand to tuck some of your hair back. “Honestly Joel, Tommy is right. I got a bit of a reputation with the men in town. I don’t know why I can’t get it right.”

“Let me worry about Tommy.” Joel promised, a dark glance in the direction of his brother. “It’s just dinner, Sweetheart. I ain’t proposing.”

“If you’re sure? I’ll understand if you-”

“Aht. None of that. I’ll be here, with bells on if that’s what you want. Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna have some words with that brother of mine.” Joel leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly. You smiled up at him and had to shake yourself from the distraction of how gentle his lips felt against you.

“I’m working.” Tommy was sat up on the porch now, eyes narrowed at you both. You fought the urge to smirk at him, you didn’t actually want to come between the Miller men. “Got lawns to mow.”

“I’ll keep you company. Make sure you ain’t running your mouth.” You turned back to Joel with a small smile.

“You want some lemonade?” You asked him softly and he smiled down at you, nodding.

“Honey, if it’s you offerin’ I’d probably accept puddle water.” You laughed lightly, heading back for the porch where one very grouchy Tommy Miller was sitting. He narrowed his eyes at you while you passed him and only looked away when Joel cleared his throat.

You paused once you were out of sight and listened to the pair of brothers grumbling at each other.

“You mind your goddamn business. I’m a grown man, I think I’d know if I was being manipulated.” Joel snapped at Tommy who only sighed.

“You got no idea.”

///

“I gotta admit, I’m impressed.” You were sitting on the counter by your oven, watching Joel cook. Your bare heels were kicking off the cupboard doors under the counter, giving a rhythmic background noise to join the sound of bubbling from the pots. “Kind of expected you to be a microwave man.”

“I can be.” He admitted with a laugh and you smiled, staring down at the stir fry he had chosen to cook for you. He claimed it covered all the bases; light enough for the summer heat, filling if you were a vegetarian, and easy enough that getting distracted by talking to you wouldn’t ruin the meal. “Most nights I’ll have a baked potato done in the microwave.”

You wrinkled your nose at him but he only shrugged at you. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’m gonna knock it. I don’t need to try it.” You laughed and hopped off the counter, heading for your drink cabinet. “Whiskey?”

“Mm, no. Check my bag there, brought you a little somethin’.” You smiled at him before ducking into the hallway where he had left his bag. Opening the zip and exposing the contents had you calling Joel’s name in delight.

You carried the bottles back into the kitchen and held them up. Joel laughed at your giddy smile when you placed one bottle down and moved to open the other one. “Where’d you find actual wine?”

“We had a patrol a couple of weeks ago into a new town. Found a couple of them.” He told you, watching as you swapped the whiskey glasses for wine ones.

“Would you like a glass now?” You offered and he nodded with a smile when you carried one over to him. “You really took me seriously.”

“Wined and dined, Sweetheart. I’m a man of my word.” You took your place alongside him again and watched him check that the noodles were cooked. He’d had to trade a day of labour in the stables for the noodles. He really had pulled out all the stops.

“Color me impressed.” You sipped at your wine and nudged his hip with your knee. “I should’ve never doubted your skills.”

“Ah, I owe you an apology for that. I ain’t treating you how I treat other women. I know this isn’t just one night.” Joel promised and you smiled softly. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth around you. Can’t think straight when it comes to you, I guess.”

“Charmer.” You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter again. You stole both wine glasses and placed them on the table, bringing Joel the plates so he could serve up dinner.

You had set either side of the small dining room table but Joel only shook his head, moving his place setting so he was sitting at your right hand side, closer than you had put him. “How are we supposed to get to know each other from that far away?”

“It’s like a foot and a half?” You asked, eyebrows raised. He only shook his head again, settling himself in and taking a sip of his wine. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

You hadn’t actually thought about the conversation during dinner and you had the sudden thought that it could be awkward. Joel didn’t share those sentiments, talking away about anything that entered his mind.

He was funny, which was surprising. Being hot and having a personality was a rare deal when it came to the men of Jackson. Everything about Joel surprised you. He kept your glass topped up and even washed the dishes when you both finished with the meal.

You found yourself checked up at the end of your sofa, facing Joel who was telling you about running into a giraffe living wild in Salt Lake City. You couldn’t believe him, expressing your jealousy.

“It was kind of surreal like everything I’ve seen in the last twenty five years and a giraffe is what seems the most unrealistic?” Joel laughed. You shifted against the couch cushion with a laugh and the wine in your glass spilled out and splashed your top making you gasp at the cool of it.

“Shit, sorry.” You leaned forward, pulling the fabric away from your chest and Joel held a hand out, taking your glass from you. “Gimme a second.”

You hurried up to your room, swapping your blouse for another. At the last second you paused in your doorway and swapped your blouse for a thin camisole. Another pause had you unhooking your bra and tossing it in the direction of your hamper. You admired yourself for a moment in the mirror before heading back to Joel.

He held your wine glass out to you with a gentle smile. You took the middle sofa cushion this time, moving you closer to Joel who let his eyes dip down just barely. “I’ve always been clumsy.”

“Is that right?” He asked and you nodded, finishing your glass of wine in one final swallow. “Maybe I should head out.”

“You could.” You nodded, placing your glass on your coffee table. “In fact you probably should. But I don’t want you to.”

“What do you want?” Joel asked you softly when you straightened up, inches between your faces. He was holding himself back, you could see it. Any of those other women he would’ve already pinned to the sofa and fucked them until they screamed.

“I don’t do this. I don’t do one nights.” You whispered quietly. His jaw clenched and you swallowed nervously. “It makes me feel cheap and dirty to be used like that and wake up alone in the morning.”

“What do you want? Do you want me to leave now? Because I’ll go, Sweetheart.” He promised you softly. “If you want me to stay and be here when you wake up tomorrow then I will. And I’ll come back for dinner too.”

“Awful presumptuous, Mr Miller.” You laughed, fingers twisting together in an attempt to gather your courage. “Stay?”

“Set the pace.” He whispered and his breath fanned against your lips. Your hand moved up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him closer, your lips pressing to his.

You pressed against him, shifting so that you were straddling his lap, your tongue pressing into his mouth. He pulled you to grind against him, his big hands on your hips. You couldn’t help but moaning his name against his mouth. “Feel’s so good.”

“Tell me what you want.” He groaned when you shifted in his lap, rubbing right up against him.

“Take me to bed, Joel.”

///

You groaned against you pillow and squinted against the morning sun. You hadn’t bothered to pull your curtains last night, what with Joel fucking you into the mattress and all.

The man in question was wrapped around you from behind, still asleep it seemed. Well, most of him was asleep. He was making small aborted moves with his hips, rubbing up against the small of your back.

You shifted against him, turning in his grip to tap at his cheek gently. He shook his head and burrowed into your neck before freezing. You ran your fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp. “Morning.”

He grunted something that sounded like a good morning and you slid your hand down between you both, circling him in your hand. He pulled his head back and blinked at you. “I think I might a little too sore for round two. But if this is okay?”

“More’n okay. You don’t need to though.” Joel promised and you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, pumping your hand. The little movements he had been making had been enough to have his tip wet. You paused to lick the palm of your hand and resumed your movements. Joel groaned, head tipped back and tendons in his neck straining. “So fucking good.”

You wrapped one leg up on his hip and every time he bucked into your hand he pressed between your legs. You had no desire to let him push inside of you again but you couldn’t help the small moans Everytime he pushed through your wet slit, the head of his cock was kissing your clit.

He took control of the speed, deliberately moving so that you felt each slide of his cock, his own hand closing over yours and tightening your grip. “So wet for me, Sweetheart. Gotta treat that pussy good after all the abuse I gave it last night.”

You whined against his neck, your breath coming faster. He was hitting against you perfectly and you couldn’t remember ever feeling this good with another person before. Your free hand pressed against Joel’s chest, nails digging into his chest. “Fucking, right there, please. Please.”

“Cum for me. Come on. Cum for me.” Joel demanded and you wanted to scoff at him, the same words coming from the mouth of every man you slept with. But Joel wasn’t every man. Joel was better. You shuddered against him as your orgasm hit, your hand falling away from his cock. He took over, pumping himself through his own orgasm which splashed against your stomach.

“Fuck.” You pulled away from Joel, the heat and sweat making you grimace. You collapsed onto your back and he did the same, chest raising and falling quickly. “Good morning is right.”

“A very good morning.” He agreed with a grunt. You couldn’t help the giggles, pushing yourself out of the bed. “Where’re you going?”

“To shower while you’re making that breakfast you promised me.” You reminded him and his brow furrowed.

“I didn’t promise breakfast. In fact it’s time you make a meal.” Joel teased with a grin and you shook your head, pulling on your robe.

“You promised last night. I asked if you’d really stay the night and you said you’d make breakfast.” You reminded him and he scrunched up his face in an effort to remember and you smiled at him, leaning against your dresser.

He looked immaculate in the morning, so big and broad. His chest was covered in hair that tapered down to a trail on his stomach. He looked up and you laughed.

“You were right about to fuck me? Less than an inch away and I asked you if you would definitely be there when I woke.” You reminded him and he nodded.

“Ah yes, I would’ve promised anything to get into your pussy at that point.” He laughed and you froze in place, your smile slipping from your lips. You pulled your robe tighter around yourself and swallowed.

“Is that right?” You asked, your voice cold. “Anything to get your way, huh?”

He paused, arching his neck up to look at you again. At your expression he pushed up on his elbows and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not like that. I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”

“I’d like you to leave. Now.” You knew what was happening. He had agreed to play the game but now he was changing the rules.

He scrambled up on the bed and got tangled in the blankets. A knock on your front door had him freezing in place. You paused too, wondering who in their right mind was at your door at this hour on a Saturday. You stared at Joel for a second before tying your robe and hurrying down the stairs.

The door swung open to find Ellie who appraised you, eyebrows raised. “Tommy said Joel would be here. I need him.”

“You can have him.” You promised her, turning to find Joel on the stairs, buttoning his shirt. “You’re needed.”

“Yeah, I heard. ” Joel said, his voice angry. Ellie looked between you both and shrugged.

“You didn’t come home. There’s a leak in the bathroom. Tommy said I’d find you here.” She explained and Joel looked at you and away again. Tommy had done enough home improvement for you to know one thing.

“Oh my god.” You looked between Ellie and Joel and felt physically sick. “You organized a bail out if you stayed the night.”

“It’s not with it looks like.” Joel promised and you scoffed, tossing his bag at him from the hallway floor.

“Get the fuck out of here. And don’t bother coming back.”

[heliads]

You and Me (A Whole Lot of History)

Based on this request: "y/n is a historian with access to old schematics so kaz hires her for a job. he keeps inventing reasons to find her afterwards until he’s forced to admit his feelings"

masterlist

You only get to study about half a chapter of your textbook before you’re interrupted by a criminal. It’s not like you mind having to put down the heavy tome you’ve been leafing through; estate law of centuries past is not your idea of some fun light reading, but you’ve been helping to piece together some fragments of an old mansion from pre-Unsea Kerch, and you’d really like to be able to decide if the master of the house your tattered documents keep referring to is the eldest son or the second eldest. 

It all depends on very specific details that refuse to make themselves known to you. So no, having an excuse to stop all this isn’t terrible, you’re just a little distracted by the fact that you’re in a private study room in the historical library of Ketterdam, and you know for certain that you locked the door that has just been opened.

You know who’s just broken into your study space. Not personally, that is, but just as well as any resident of the Barrel knows the one they call Dirtyhands– through bated breath, in stolen whispers of expensive heists and bodies left behind, no traitors tolerated and none allowed to live. The fact that Kaz Brekker has taken it upon himself to enter your study room of all the empty ones still available in the library is not promising, to say the least, although you have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to appear on his radar.

You are, in fact, quite possibly the last person Kaz would even be aware of. You’re a historian, specializing in a few select centuries and powerful families in the Kerch area. This means that you spend most of your time in old and crumbling buildings, not out in shady dealings or shootouts or any of the other places Brekker tends to frequent.

This doesn’t seem to stop Kaz from closing the door behind him and taking a seat opposite your desk. He folds his hands in front of him, idly contemplating the textbook you’re still supposed to be perusing, but remains frustratingly silent.

It falls to you, then, to pick up a conversation, which is unfair considering the fact that he’s the one who’s barged in on your space. “That door was locked for a reason, you know,” you point out.

Kaz arches a dour brow. “Yes. I opened it.”

He’s not making this easy for you. “Why?” You ask.

Instead of answering you, Brekker jerks his chin towards the book in front of you. “What’s that about?”

There is no earthly reason one of the most notorious gang leaders in the Barrel should be asking about the homework you’re doing for your job. Still, he has, so you must answer, no matter how confused you are about it. “Inheritance disputes of the fourteenth century Kerch nobles. Why, are you interested in checking it out after me?”

Kaz scoffs. “No. I just want your information, not that book.”

You feel yourself leaning back slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Trust me, whatever information you’re after won’t be found from me.”

Kaz shakes his head once. “No, actually, I think it will be.”

He reaches for something under his coat, and you’re hit with the brief terror that he’ll get a gun or something and you’ll die here and now, but then his gloved hand comes back out into the light carefully holding a rolled up piece of paper, which he smooths out onto the desk before you. You tuck your textbook away so you can get a better look at the thing, more curious now than afraid.

It turns out to be a copy of house blueprints. As you study it, you realize that you recognize the place. You were there recently for a project for your employer, checking up on the preservation of a few rooms. “Is this the old van Haarst mansion?” 

Brekker’s eyes flash, reminding you of the slick of oil on water. “You know about it?”

“Yeah,” you say, peering further at the blueprints. “I’ve worked there before.”

Kaz nods, looking pleased. “I’d like to buy your services. I need information on this building and your silence on the matter. Are you interested?”

Your brow furrows. “What information do you need?”

To answer you, Brekker tosses a stack of kruge onto the table. You can see the numbers on the edges, and know even without counting that this payment will be far more than what you’d earn even for a year at your job. This is the deal, then. He’ll only tell you more if you accept his money, and if you accept his money, you agree to whatever he wants.

Honestly, not the worst bargain. Ghezen knows you’ve had worse supervisors on other jobs. At least you can trust Brekker to be honest so long as you are too.

You put the stack of bills into your bag, and turn back to the blueprints with renewed interest. “Are you trying to get in or get out?”

“Both,” Kaz tells you. “I’m assuming you’ve heard rumors of Marysa’s Diamond?”

You choke out a laugh. “Have I ever.”

Marysa’s Diamond is like the Saints in flesh for historians. The van Haarst family was exceedingly rich, and one of their matriarchs, Marysa van Haarst, was said to be in possession of an incredible gemstone, the diamond named after her. It disappeared when the family abandoned Kerch for Ravka following the death of three of Marysa’s sons, and no one has seen it since.

You blow out a low breath. “You think it’s in the old house somewhere? Historians have been all over the place, we would have found it if it was there.”

“It wasn’t always,” Kaz tells you. “It’s been moved there. I have good information that the van Haarst house will act as a safe house for the stone while it’s being moved from hand to hand. They’ll keep it there overnight. I will be entering the estate with a team and taking it.”

He goes silent, as if waiting for any objections. You don’t really care about the morals of the affair, though. You have your money and you get to be the foremost expert on a historical favorite of yours. Robberies happen every day, not something to get teary eyed over.

When you don’t speak up, Kaz continues on. “They’ll be keeping the stone in a place no one can find. There will be a window of exactly one bell in which the old owner leaves the house and is replaced by the new owner, carefully staggered so the stadwatch aren’t alerted by too many people in the estate after hours. That means it would have to be a damn good hiding spot. If you were hiding a gemstone in this house, where would you put it?”

You consider the blueprints before you again. There are a thousand and one places you could hide something in there– tucked inside the grand piano, in a safe, under one of a hundred carpets– and there’s no way Brekker’s men could find it in time.

However, that means the person meant to be picking up the diamond wouldn’t be able to find it as well. They would have to find somewhere in the estate hidden to everyone else but the recipient of the gemstone.

The answer occurs to you in a flash. “Oh,” you say, “Secret room.”

Brekker blinks at you. “What?”

You point at the map. “It’s totally going in the secret room. I mean, they don’t want it to be found by anyone else, right? That’s, like, the whole point of a secret room.”

Were it not for the fact that he’s, well, Dirtyhands, you’d swear his voice turns sarcastic. “That was my understanding of a secret room, yes. Where is it?”

Were it not for the fact that he is in fact Dirtyhands, you would roll your eyes. “There’s an entrance off of the secondary hallway leading off of the dining room. Unlock the door using a little latch under the bottom of the ugly painting of the old duchess of Belendt.”

He stares at you. “How do you know that? It’s not on any map.”

You lift a shoulder. “I wanted to know why they’d keep such a foul portrait around. The elites of that time period were huge on perfectionism, every one of their paintings had to be absolutely glorious or it would get removed from their sight. That’s why there are so many old paintings in the surrounding villages, actually, the nobles would just leave these expensive oil paintings outside the castle because they couldn’t take the sight of them anymore. There was no reason they’d let such a dreadful portrait stay unless it was hiding something.”

You had been focused on the map in your hands during the majority of this little speech, fondly recalling little anecdotes from your history classes, but you remember yourself soon enough. You look up and Kaz is staring at you, almost fascinated.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, I’m rambling. Got distracted.”

He shakes his head brusquely, although there’s a hint of pink on the tops of his cheekbones that wasn’t there before. “No, no. It’s important information. So we should be aware of any suspicious paintings?”

“Yeah,” you muse, “just look for the bad ones. Pretend you’re an art critic or something.”

The edges of Kaz’s dour glare turn themselves up into something of a humored smirk. “Will do. Thank you for the advice, L/N.”

You nod. “Have fun with the heist. Hey, if you see any older books on the history of the family, would you mind grabbing one or two for me? I’ve been trying to do some research for ages, but the library keeps stalling on getting resources to me, no matter how many requests I send.”

Kaz’s brows draw close together. “That would be unbelievably risky. We can’t take more things than we need or we could be caught.”

You grin. “I know, I’m kidding. Just a joke.”

Kaz’s expression lightens microscopically. “Yes, a joke.”

He leaves soon enough, pushing his chair away from the desk and rolling up the blueprints with a crisp snap of the paper. He warns you to keep your mouth shut about the plans, but you’re not sure that he does it with the fire you expected of a notorious gang leader. Instead, the words are soft, like he’s cautioning a friend.

You don’t hear from him again, not for a while. You’re not sure when this mysterious diamond deal is going down, and you doubt the unlucky men Kaz will grift can go to the stadwatch about this. In fact, you have no idea if it’s happened at all until about a week later. You had gone about your day like normal, not suspecting a thing until the moment you unlocked your door.

And there, centered perfectly on your desk when you get back home despite the fact that you never gave keys to your apartment to anyone, are three books. Aged, cracked covers, gilded writing. You hesitantly pick up one and read the title under your breath:  A History of the Bendtsen Family, 1200-1500. Another:  The van Almelos of the Belendt Region:  Two Centuries of Political and Economic Legacy.

Kaz. He actually got the books. Never mind that you were joking, never mind that he knew that, Kaz Brekker went out of his way to risk a heist just so he could help you out with a research project. Saints. And they say chivalry is dead.

You don’t expect to get the chance to thank him for it until he randomly crosses your path not two weeks later. He’s alone again, miraculously turning up outside your company door just as you leave to walk home. Kaz informs you that he’ll need your services again, exchanging some kruge for more words. This time, he wants details on an office building down the street, one that used to be a city hall. You’re able to take him in yourself thanks to access granted to all historians for historic places, and turn a blind eye when he grabs a few documents regarding interport commerce.

He walked you to your door that night, lingering over the threshold like a teenager not wanting to leave a first date. He shows up again after a month, using an excuse that’s less polished and more finicky. The next time, he doesn’t have an excuse at all. It’s just him, standing in front of you. No money, no plan. He just wanted to see you.

Kaz calls it ‘checking up on an investment,’ but you get the feeling that it’s not something he usually does. He walks with you by the water, he buys you drinks at a bar not even in his own pocket. It’s unusually sweet, so you can’t bite back your questions anymore and confront him about it when he hovers in front of your door for the dozenth time.

“What is this about, Kaz?”

He blinks at you in surprise. “What?”

You gesture between the two of you. “All of this. This isn’t for a job anymore. Why?”

Kaz looks away. It’s rare for him to not have a perfect poker face. Perhaps it’s yet another sign that this means something more, something that you can’t help but wish for. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve called on you for several jobs that can risk the players involved in the game.”

You shake your head. “You’ve gone out of your way to make sure no one knows about me. It’s just us, Kaz. You did that on purpose.”

“Yes,” he admits at last, “I did. I wanted something for myself. Something that wasn’t as bad as the rest.”

He risks a glance over at you, and his shoulders square slightly when he realizes you aren’t trying to fight him on this, or worse, leave. “You’re good, Y/N. Good things don’t last long around here. I want to make sure you do. I want you to stay forever.”

With me, he means. He wants to keep you in his life. His eyes flicker to your hands, and although you know he won’t take them, not yet, he wants to. That’s why you finally put together the pieces. Kaz Brekker is not good at verbalizing his feelings. Perhaps he never will be. This is the best shot he can give you, and he could not even say the word ‘love’ if it ripped his heart out with bleeding fingertips.

You've had so much over the years, and it has never been enough. Not once, not ever. A thousand coffers could empty themselves, a hundred men die and be reborn. It has never once stopped you. This, by contrast, is nothing. A canal rat's promise, most likely broken before the night is through. You know it, Kaz knows it. This is nothing. 

Yet it is the most true thing you have ever had, the one solid stone in a wall about to come crumbling down. It is small, barely there at all, but still worth it. Maybe that is why you stay, for the hope. For him. It is enough.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @deadreaderssociety, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @eclliipsed, @mayfieldss, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Hi omg i absolutely love your work so much!! Literally had to turn on notifications just for you🩷 i wanted to request an enemies to lovers trope with ethan (but kinda slowburn) where he is really nice and shy/dorky with the rest of the group & rude to y/n specifically because he feels like thats the only way to get her attention. He walks in on her changing but leaves quickly due to embarrassment & a few days later just confesses during an argument and it ends in smut. Lots of angst & tension pls pls thank you so much🥲

Hiii! I hope you like it!

Holding on to You - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Ethan thinks he needs to be a jackass to get your attention. After months of dealing with his annoying ways, he confesses how he feels.

Contains: fluff, angst, use of pet names, mean!ethan, dry humping, riding, p in v sex. (If I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Apparently if I get stoned and listen to Twenty One Pilots, I write longer fics lmao. 3.7k words...jeez.

When Chad and Ethan needed a new roommate, and you hated yours, you decided to take Chad up on his offer for you to move in. Yeah, living with two boys wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Well, Chad wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. Ethan on the other hand, loved to do things to piss you off.

As you stood at the sink doing your own dishes, Ethan walked by and dropped a bowl in the sink.

“Seriously?” you asked, looking over at him.

“What? You’re already doing dishes.”

Chad walked in the room before you could say anything else to Ethan. He smirked at you as Chad started to speak.

“Hey dude, you want to go with me to get the pizza for tonight?” he asked. You were having your friends over, and you were happy to have an interaction with someone that wasn’t a guy.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, sitting a cup in the sink, too.

“I’m not doing all your dishes, Ethan!” you yelled, as he and Chad made their way to the door.

He turned around to look at you again, flashing a smile before walking out.

The way Ethan acted was infuriating sometimes. He was completely different in the presence of everyone else, but when it was just the two of you, he was so rude.

When your friends started to arrive after Chad and Ethan got back, you were grabbing plates out of the cabinet when Ethan walked up behind you.

“Let me take these. I wouldn’t want all of them to get shattered,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the stack. You huffed as he sat them down on the counter.

“I wouldn’t have broken them,” you mumbled, looking up at him.

“You just broke one last week!”

“Well, if you didn’t stack so many plates on the top shelf so only you’re giraffe-looking ass was able to reach them, maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” you snapped, grabbing the plates off the counter and carrying them out to the living room.

“Thank you,” Chad said as you sat the plates down.

“Yeah, thank you,” Ethan said as he followed you out, the sweetness in his voice making you want to gag.

As you all sat around eating, Tara brought up needing help for one of her classes.

“I can help you,” Ethan said, “I took that class already.”

“Let me guess, you had the highest grade in the class?” Mindy asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t help that I have a photographic memory,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “But seriously, if you need my help, let me know.”

You were quiet as you focused on your phone, trying to distract yourself from Ethan. You hated that he could be so nice to everyone else but was a total dick to you. It was disappointing because at one point, you thought he was sweet. The kindness and the fact that he was tall and very attractive was starting to draw you in, but then his personality just flipped one day.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Tara asked you, as you scrolled through your phone.

“I got a text from my ex earlier. Still an asshole,” you sighed, “But he’s been liking all my Instagram photos that he unliked when we broke up.”

“Don’t give him another chance, please,” Mindy begged, “He treats you like shit.”

Your cheeks started to turn pink as you sat there. You didn’t want to directly tell them that you were considering it, but the knowing look on Chad’s face confirmed that you were doing a bad job at hiding it.

“Seriously? He’s going to be in here trying to square up with me and Ethan, because he’s an insecure idiot,” Chad said, his tone full of disappointment, “You know he’s not good for you.”

Ethan was really invested in the conversation happening in front of him. He’d always kind of hoped that you’d just tell him you were interested in him. The type of guys you normally went after was the reason he was being a jerk, after all. He’s always wanted your attention.

“That’s my type though, Chad,” you sighed sarcastically as he shook his head.

“Yeah, but you could go after a sweet guy, like my boy Ethan over here,” he said, gesturing to the curly-haired boy that started to blush. “He’s a snack, right?”

“That didn’t work when you pitched it to the cute girl at the Halloween Party, and it’s not going to work now,” you giggled, happy that you were able to make a little dig at Ethan since he always says rude things to you.

“That wasn’t nice. I think you’re a snack,” Chad said to Ethan, as Tara started to laugh at their bromance.

“At least someone does,” Ethan said, glancing over to you and looking down at his lap.

“I’m not saying you’re not attractive, Ethan,” you sighed, feeling guilty for being so mean, “I guess you are a snack.”

“Oh, am I sensing a love connection here?” Chad said in a horrible fake-British accent.

“I didn’t say that.”

As everyone started to leave for the night, you went in your room to change into your pajama shorts and a big t-shirt.

Just as you took off your jeans, shirt, and bra, the door to your room opened.

“Hey, you left your…” You grabbed your shirt you were about to change into and quickly covered yourself with it as Ethan stood there. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

When he turned around and pulled the door shut behind him, your cheeks turned bright red. The guy that loves be an ass to you had just seen you in nothing but your panties. You sighed as you pulled your shirt and shorts on and walked out to get some water.

You jumped when you saw a shadowy figure in the dark kitchen as you turned the corner.

“It’s just me,” Chad said, as you flipped the light switch.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you said, as he stood there eating some of the cold, leftover pizza. “Why are you eating in the dark?”

“Why are you so jumpy? That’s how Ethan was a minute ago when he walked in here,” he said, chewing his food. “He sat your phone on the counter, by the way.”

“Maybe we’re jumpy because you’re lurking in a dark kitchen,” you said, grabbing your phone.

“You’re probably right. Well, good night.”

As he walked back to his room, you pulled a cup out of the cabinet, getting some water. You couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it was going to be to see Ethan again, which will happen eventually because he shares your living space.

That didn’t happen for several days, though. He intentionally avoided you, only coming out of his room if you weren’t home, or you were in your own room. It was starting to bother you, because even if he made you feel like shit before he walked in on you, he at least talked to you, and it was significantly less awkward.

When you walked out to the living room, you saw Chad and Ethan sitting on the couch watching tv. You flopped down a few cushions away from them, looking at the screen.

“Star Wars, huh? I wouldn’t expect anything less from you two dorks,” you joked, as Chad scoffed.

“You know, I used to think you were cool,” he said, throwing one of the decorative pillows at you.

You threw it back at him, hitting Ethan in the process.

“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing the pillow that eventually landed on Chad and threw it back at you.

“You know what we need? Snacks,” Chad said, standing up. He grabbed the remote to pause the movie. “Ethan, Cheetos?” he asked as Ethan nodded. “Do you want anything?” he asked you, walking towards the kitchen. “No, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. Maybe if your nice, Ethan will share his snacks.”

You laughed at his comment as you looked over to Ethan. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel the tension in the air. The only thing that came to your mind was that he was probably dying inside from not saying anything shitty to you for the last several days.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped, glancing over to you.

“There it is. I thought you were never going to be mean to me again.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t feel like I should have to speak to you,” he said, as Chad walked back in, completely missing Ethan’s comment. “Thanks, man,” he said, after Chad handed him the Cheetos.

He pressed play on the movie again, as you tried to get interested in it.

“That thing is kind of cute,” you said, pointing at the character.

“Jar Jar Binks is cute? That explains your taste in men,” Chad said, as Ethan started to laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, staring both of the boys down.

“He’s one of, if not THE, most hated Star Wars characters,” Ethan said, looking over to you. “Just like how every single guy you date is completely unlikable.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you sighed, standing up to grab the blanket that was on back of the couch behind Ethan. “Can you sit up a little bit so I can grab this,” you said, tugging on the fluffy material.

“No, I’m comfortable like this,” he said, his tone playful because Chad was beside him.

“Please, I’m cold,” you whined, as he rolled his eyes and sat up.

You grabbed the blanket and snuggled back up in your spot. Ethan kept looking over to you, trying to be as discreet as possible about it. You caught his gaze, giving him a ‘What’ look, before looking back at the tv.

When the movie was over, Chad stood up. “I think I’m going to Tara’s. You guys want to come?”

“Yeah, like I want to be there while you try to put moves on my friend,” you said, as he shrugged.

“She’s cute. I can’t help it. Ethan, you coming?”

“I don’t want to be a third wheel,” he sighed, “I have stuff to work on anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” Chad said, pulling his hoodie on.

When Chad left, Ethan got up to walk to his room.

“Hey,” you said, as he stopped and turned a little to look at you, “If you hate me so much, why did you agree to me moving in?”

“Because you can pay the rent,” he said, “Is this conversation over?”

“No, it’s not,” you stood up, as he fully turned back around. “What the fuck happened? Because you used to be nice to me. Then you started to treat me like every other guy ever has.”

“Yeah? What was that jab a few nights ago where you made me feel like a loser in front of our friends?” he started to raise his voice at you, “Because that wasn’t very nice.”

“I wanted you to know what it feels like, Ethan! You treat me like I’m stupid! You know how many times I’ve gone to my room and cried over some of the things you’ve said to me?” you were yelling at this point, the anger in his face softening as he started to feel guilty. “You used to be so sweet and caring, I miss that Ethan.”

“I couldn’t be like that anymore,” he sighed, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You were still mad, yelling “Why?” at him as he started to walk towards you.

“Because you aren’t interested in nice guys!” he yelled back, “You always go after people that don’t treat you right, when all I’ve wanted to do this whole time is to be what you want!”

“You really are dumb,” you started to laugh, shaking your head. “You had a fucking chance, Ethan! I was interested in you. It was weird for me, and I wasn’t sure how to act because you aren’t my normal type, but that’s what made me like you!”

“How was I supposed to know that?” he said, sighing as he sat back down on the couch. “I just wanted to be what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s something wrong with my normal ‘type’,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “In some sick, twisted way, I think it’s sweet that you wanted my attention so bad.”

“So, it worked?” he asked, cocking his head to look at you.

“I’m not going to validate you being an asshole. I want you to be yourself, that’s the Ethan I like,” you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry for making you cry before, I feel awful about that,” he said, the guilt present on his face.

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I totally ruined everything, didn’t I?” he asked, “I remember you mentioned your ex the other night. Are you going to give him another chance?”

You started to laugh as you looked at him, “Why would I do that? I mean, unless you aren’t interested in me, and this is just some sick joke.”

“No, I’m interested,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was sweet at first, exactly what you expected from Ethan. He started to pull away, but your head moved with his, not wanting the kiss to end. His lips kept moving as you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You started to straddle him as you let him deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. When you felt him get hard through his jeans, you pulled away to look at him. His eyes were dazed as he watched you, craving more.

“You okay?” you asked, your breathing heavy.

“Yeah, can we do that again?”

You leaned back in, his hands going to your hips as you kissed him. His grip tightened a little as he started to squirm underneath of you, desperate to get a little friction. His lips moved to your jaw, before kissing down your neck. You whimpered when he found your sweet spot, his mouth attacking it so you’d keep making that sound.

Your hands were resting against the hem of his shirt, so you started to lift it to graze your fingers over his toned stomach. He followed your lead, his hands rubbing against your sides underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingertips brushed against your ribs, the tickling feeling surprising you.

“You tensed up, are you okay with this?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Mhm,” you said, removing one of your hands from his abs and putting it under his chin. He lifted his head so your mouths could connect again, as you started to grind against him.

He started to groan into the kiss, his hips moving against yours. “Do you want to do this,” you asked pulling away a little. He nodded his head as you slid off of him to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait, are we about to fuck on the couch?” he asked, as you nodded.

“Stand up,” you said, grabbing his hands. You grabbed your blanket from the other side of the couch, spreading it across the cushions. “Now we don’t have to feel guilty whenever we see Chad sitting on the couch.”

He smiled as you slid his jeans down over his hips. “I think you should let me take something off of you.”

You smiled at him as you stepped back a little, your hands at your sides as you waited for him to make a move. His hands went to your shirt, lifting it over your head. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out off his skull when he realized you didn’t have a bra on.

“You’re even more perfect up close,” he said, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

“How many times have you thought about me almost naked since the other night?” you asked, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved his mouth.

“So many times,” he said as he pulled away and moved to the other one. He groaned a little at the feeling of your fingers tugging on his curls.

His hands reached down to the top of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them, and sliding them down your hips. You shimmied out of them as you slid your feet out.

As you both stood there, he leaned in to kiss you again, the tent in his boxers pressing against you.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, as he nodded.

“Good idea,” he said, running down the hall to his room. You took the opportunity to take off your panties as you waited for him to come back. His jaw dropped when he came back and saw you standing there, completely nude. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It can’t happen until these come off,” you said, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and sliding them down his thighs. After he stepped out of them, you pushed him back onto the couch.

He opened the condom as he sat there, rolling it on his hard cock. You really started to look at his size, nervous that it wouldn’t fit inside of you. His hands reached out, grabbing yours to pull you back on his lap. You kissed him as you grabbed his erection and lined it up with your soaked core.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, sinking down onto him. You sat in place as you kept kissing him, giving yourself enough time to adjust to the pressure as he stretched your walls.

When you started to roll your hips, his hands held onto them. “God, this feels amazing,” he said, loving the feeling of you around him. “You’re so tight.”

As you started to bounce on him, his thrusts started to meet yours. You kept making eye contact with him as his mouth started to fall open, faint moans slipping past his lips.

“That’s so hot,” you moaned, as he looked at you, trying to understand what you meant. “You can be as vocal as you want, baby. I love it.”

His heart melted as you called him ‘baby’, loving the sound of it. He started to get a little louder, letting you know exactly how good he was feeling.

“Rub my clit,” you whimpered, as your hands went to his shoulders to stabilize yourself so you could move faster.

His fingers started to rub circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the whines flying out of your mouth echoing off the walls. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

His fingers soon sped up as your moaning got higher. “Yes yes yes,” you cried out, that euphoric feeling so close to taking over your body, “I’m gonna cum.”

Your pussy started to flutter around him as your body started to tense up. He kept thrusting up into you, so close to his own orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum,” he groaned out, his hand leaving your clit and going back to your hip as he pounded into you. “Fuuuuck.”

He let out a long, shaky breath as he released into the condom. Your body relaxed against his as his hands rubbed your back. “You okay, baby?” he asked, as you nodded against his shoulder.

You laid there for a few more minutes, just enjoying his arms around you. “You want to take a shower?” you asked your fingers rubbing across his chest.

“I’d love to.”

When you were in the shower with Ethan, he was so sweet and caring. As he ran the soapy loofah across your back, you started to tear up a little. No one had ever done anything like this for you. Any other guy you’d showered with expected round two, but Ethan just wanted to take care of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as you stood under the water, the suds washing off your body.

“Stop. You keep saying stuff like that, you’re going to make me fall for you,” you laughed, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“You promise? Because you’re so amazing, and so perfect,” he said, and you knew he meant every word he was saying.

After the shower, you grabbed the blanket off the couch and threw it in the washer, before starting it. It would’ve made no sense to put the blanket down if you were just going to leave it there. Ethan walked up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “You’re still naked.”

“You are, too,” you said, turning to face him. “I want to cuddle tonight. Your bed or mine?”

“Let’s grab your clothes and lay in mine. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you in my bed,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Okay, let’s go before Chad comes home and sees us naked,” you giggled, pulling away from him to run down the hall.

The next morning, you woke up with your head on Ethan’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. You sat up a little, your tired eyes connecting with his as he opened them.

“You look so cute first thing in the morning,” he said, sitting up too.

“I’m starving,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you attempted to tame the bed head.

“I could take you out to breakfast, if you’d like to.”

“I’d like that,” you said softly, leaning in to peck his lips.

You bumped into Chad in the hallway as you both walked out of Ethan’s room.

“Uh…okay,” he said, as you started to laugh. “Was I right about the love connection?” His fake accent was back as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled, walking into your room to change.

When your door closed, Chad whisper-yelled, “Yessss dude I’m so proud of you! You’ve been crushing on her forever.”

“It’s a long story, but I’m so excited that she’ll know how it feels to be treated right.”

Chad and Ethan started to do a little happy dance as you walked out of your room, both of them stopping as you smirked.

“You ready to go?” you asked, reaching out to grab Ethan’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

[ingravinoveritas]

This past week, I traveled to London to see Macbeth. Everything I had heard and seen about David, Cush Jumbo, and the overall production convinced me that it was not to be missed, and so I took the crazy chance of purchasing a ticket months ago, and it was the first time I've ever gone to another country just for a play.

Ever since I was a kid, I have been going to Broadway shows, and the experience of live theatre has always been something incomparable and incredibly meaningful to me. Seeing something beyond Broadway, however, never felt possible until now. This opportunity arose at a moment when I was finally able to seize it, and now that I have attended the play not once, but twice (thanks to a lovely person who was able to help me obtain a £25 day ticket), I can say that Macbeth was, without question, the most amazing thing that I have ever seen on stage.

What follows is my review/thoughts on the production, and I will try my best to avoid spoilers (though fair warning that one or two may arise, so proceed with caution).

In high school, Shakespeare was something we were taught. It was an assumed part of the curriculum, labeled as a classic. Yet it seemed to exist in a time capsule--a product of its era, and of an English language barely proximate to the one we speak today. We learned Macbeth on the page, in annotations and themes and meter, rather than something pulsing, beating, living. Something that makes us feel. And for nearly two hours in a beautiful Victorian theatre in a little corner of the West End, all I did was exactly that.

I felt. And after seeing this play, I am not the same person on a molecular level that I was before.

Everything about this play--from David's mesmerizing portrayal of Macbeth to Cush Jumbo's wrenching turn as Lady Macbeth to the entire ensemble cast to the staging choices (light, sound, and so on)--is extraordinary. It is breathtakingly ruinous. It is so fully immersive that by the end you somehow feel bruised, viscerally disgusted and wrung out in equally beautiful measure.

It's almost misleading to say that we the audience are simply watching the play, because thanks to the binaural audio design (headphones), we are in Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's minds, and become accomplices to the characters' wicked deeds. When the porter (Jatinder Singh Randhawa) comes on to provide comic relief at exactly the perfect moment, it soon becomes clear that it is a distraction from our own discomfort at what has just happened. But it is a short-lived respite, as we are soon plunged back into the action and the characters' spiraling descent into madness.

In terms of David specifically, seeing him on television or on any screen profoundly pales to seeing him on the stage. In much the same way that the stage is Michael's natural habitat, it is also David's. The way he moves, the way he holds himself when he's not even speaking--which I got to see up close when he knelt directly in front of me on several occasions--is meticulous. David becomes the character he is playing, down into the pit of his soul. He disappears so thoroughly that I very quickly forgot that I was even watching him.

So many people can recite Shakespeare, but there is a marked difference between recitation and what David does. Together, David and Cush make Macbeth and Lady Macbeth feel like the Bonnie and Clyde of the Elizabethan age (only hornier). And the themes the play invokes--greed, fear, jealousy, power--are shown to be themes not of a particular era, but of humanity. David especially is so preternaturally good at making all of that unbearably real. He not only makes Shakespeare accessible to the modern world--an already difficult feat on its own--he makes it timeless.

For the last ten minutes of the play, I felt like I stopped breathing. The evil that Macbeth perpetrates, and the realization that he has not become like this, but rather that this is who he has always been, hits full force. As much as this play is very definitely an ensemble piece, David is the standout. He commands the stage, and at no point is he more powerful than when Macbeth is falling apart near the end.

(On a purely aesthetic level, this is also when David looks most beautiful--the wild hair, the form-fitting shirt heaving with the rise and fall of his greyhound lean chest, and the majestic sweep of the kilt with every frenzied movement. The complete erosion of the line between sanity and insanity, but also showing us how tenuous that line was to begin with. And he is utterly gorgeous while doing so.)

It's also at this moment in the play that we see how skillfully David has manipulated the audience. Where Michael uses a character's emotions much more overtly and aggressively--sniffing the audience out, stalking around the stage, feeling as if he's about to pull you up with him--David is far more controlled. He draws you in slowly, carefully, and it's only when we see the depths of Macbeth's depravity (notably killing Young Siward) that we realize the truth:

He got us. He made us the witnesses to Macbeth's malice, made sure we couldn't look away. And now we are complicit.

If I had to pinpoint any negatives about the play (which is extremely difficult to do), it's that there is only a brief moment where the pacing lags just slightly, and it's because David is off stage for a considerable period of time. The cast is absolutely incredible, bar none, but the energy doesn't quite maintain that high level when he is not there.

Also, from a sensory standpoint, this is very much not a sensory-friendly production. There are several instances of sudden loud noises in the headphones (which I found especially jarring), as well as the use of flashing lights, and considerable use of smoke at multiple points. All of these were more acute because I was sitting in the Stalls (second row), so I can only speak to it from that vantage, rather than from other locations in the theatre. But for anyone who is autistic (as I am) or has sensory-processing challenges, be advised that this play is definitely inaccessible in those respects.

When I left the Harold Pinter Theatre that night, I felt as though my entire central nervous system had been rearranged. There genuinely is no way to be normal about this play, because it is not a normal play. It takes apart everything you know about Macbeth and puts it back together in the most unexpected, electrifying way. It is the beauty of destruction, and no one embodies that more perfectly than David. Even days later, I can still feel the buzzing of my skin, the blood rushing through me, fingertips tingling from some heady combination of arousal and fear. (Or as Dr. Frank N. Furter once put it: "A mental mind fuck can be quite nice...")

The moment the lights went to black, every single person in that theatre was on their feet in a standing ovation. The applause was thunderous, and seemed even louder in the wake of the complete silence that preceded it.

I had sat in that silence--awestruck, captivated--and thought to myself that I could watch this production forever. And I would go back and do it all over again right now if I could. If you have the means, the opportunity, it is an experience I cannot recommend highly enough.

David is truly a master of his craft, and yet performs without a hint of ego. He gives everything he has and leaves it all on the stage. And what he and this team of people have come together to give us is something I will remember for the rest of my life.

(Pictures taken on 10/12/2024.)

[rachalixie]

a/n: teeny little jisung comfort. <3

warnings: mention of eating trouble, mention of mental health, gn!reader

it’s the kind of day where you haven’t been able to catch your breath fully. where your brain feels kind of fuzzy around the edges in a way that you can’t fully describe. where you just don’t feel right, up until you walk through the door and collapse into jisung’s arms, distracting him from whatever game he’s been playing with felix all day. he removes his headphones, mumbling a quick goodbye to felix, and his response goes unheard when he drops them to the floor and wraps his arms around you right away. 

nothing feels right, you don’t have to say. i need you right now, you never have to voice. you’re the only comfort i have, goes understood without you having to open your mouth. all you have to do is hold onto him tighter and let out a wet sigh into his collar and he just knows. he knows you better than the back of his own hand; the number of times you’ve collapsed into him like this has trained him perfectly, just as the number of times he’s reached for you has trained you to know him just as well. 

“food or bed?” he asks, voice almost at a whisper as he runs a hand up and down your back, blunt nails trailing in swirling lines that you can feel through your sweater. he knows that sometimes when you’re like this you can’t eat, and while he’s almost sure that this is one of those times he would never take that choice away from you or assume things on your behalf. he knows you, but he knows that the person who knows you best is yourself. you tap twice on his back with your fingers, signaling that you want the latter option, and he walks you towards your shared bedroom. the walk is a little awkward with the way you’re tangled around each other, but this is such a practiced thing that you make it work. 

he settles you into the bed and presses a kiss to your forehead before whispering be right back. his absence pangs, even though he’s only a few meters away, noises from the kitchen invading your ears. he comes back with a tall glass of water sweating from the ice in it and a handful of your favorite snacks. 

“just in case you want them later, so you don’t have to get out of bed,” he explains as he places the items on the bedside table. he presses the cup of water to your lips for a moment, coaxing you into a sitting position so you don’t spill on yourself, and then the cup joins the selection of snacks. they’re little kid-sized bags that he bought specifically for you, knowing that you like to graze on snacks throughout the day rather than eating big meals. your eyes burn at his thoughtfulness; even though he’s been doing this for you for so long, every reminder of his kindness makes you that much more grateful for him. 

he settles into bed, letting you curl up around him. your breathing evens out with his until you’re breathing in sync, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you almost to sleep. 

“sing for me?” you ask, voice small as you look up at him. he looks into your eyes, the ones he could never say no to even if he wanted to, and he gives you a small smile. 

“what do you want me to sing for you, my heart?” he asks, voice rumbling from his chest right into your ear.

“you know,” you pout. asking for things was never easy, but you were so lucky to have a partner that could read your mind. 

he starts low, words softened around the edges, and by the time he gets to singing about being lonely and wanting someone to hold him you couldn’t hold back the tear that leaks into his shirt. this song is proof, he knows you. his words feel like they were pulled straight from your heart, etches of your soul spilling into every line and verse, the very essence of you in the melody escaping from his mouth. 

i’m an alien on this earth.

—

soft hours

[moniericreative]

Joker and Neurodivergency: The Very Long ADHD Yappathon

So this is mostly just an excuse to ramble, project, and headcanon.

But the longer I've been working on my Dialogue Compilation Project... The more I've gradually started to notice bits about Joker as a character that hit pretty close to experiences I've also dealt with as someone neurodivergent, specifically someone with inattentive ADHD.

So how about we delve into it?

So as a foreward to describe the explanation process: What exactly is Inattentive ADHD?

Inattentive ADHD is a type of ADHD where children have a hard time paying attention but don’t necessarily exhibit hyperactive behavior.

In simpler terms, it's more of an internal hyperactivity. Like your brain or emotional regulation are constantly unrestrained. For instance: - Your thoughts tend to get scattered - Your short-term memory's spotty (i.e. you may struggle to repeat back something you were just told a few seconds ago) - You tend to dissassociate out of the blue due to a lack of stimulation - Your emotions might go 0-to-100 where it may be "nothing" or "suddenly everything at once" depending on what's going on (especially with external stimulants like crowds or sudden noises) - Etcetera.

And because of that lack of internal structure, it's difficult to: - Maintain habits or time awareness for some folks - Bodily queues like hunger or sleep simply don't register unless in extremes (like a low blood sugar, hunger shakes, or overall sleep deprivation crapiness).

And that's not even getting into the executive dysfunction or auditory processing issues... Hoo boy... 💪🥲

There's a wide variety of symptoms for each individual, nobody's the same. Heck some of these are experiences someone else might not even have, either.

Some of them even overlap with autism as well (and some folks might have both), but out of respect as someone who isn't autistic, I'll personally refrain from discussing about it here to avoid accidental stereotyping (but feel free to add to this with personal anecdotes if you like!). Mostly just going off my own experiences with ADHD.

So how exactly does any of this apply to Joker?

Well, some of the oh-so-fun things about being ADHD is:

- Needing consistent reminders for tasks

- Executive Dysfunction (especially when things go wrong or you feel like crap)

- Being able to Hyperfocus (i.e. "being in the zone" to a degree that you tune everything else out including the time spent on the task).

We know based on the Persona series' time-slot system that typically, Joker will spend hours doing a single task and only that task. There's no multitasking or anything. He is focused solely on whatever he starts doing, be it studying, making tools, training, etcetera.

(There's also smaller moments like the P5 Anime as well, where he'll actually get mildly frustrated with anyone that distracts him from a task he's focusing on. Specifically Akechi when he keeps trying to have a conversation with him while he's concentrating on using a pour-over.)

That sounds about normal for anyone though, right?

Well, here's the thing.

He usually doesn't stop until Morgana suggests he should.

This is different from previous Persona protagonists like Yu or Makoto/Kotone because they don't have someone like Morgana constantly reminding them that they've done plenty of work, or that they should head to bed. They just do it themselves.

On top of that, while party members (both from P5 itself and prior games) will occasionally remind you to "do [blank] by a certain date," Morgana's the one character that will consistently remind Joker (and you) several times in a single day, ranging from maybe a line or two, to three/four different ones every day the week before the deadline.

The one time Morgana's not present do this?

No afternoon or evening events to work on, Joker's just so damn miserable without his close friend that he holes himself up in Leblanc's Attic and does nothing for two days straight. Not even in said attic, it's standing around missing Morgana or going to sleep. Good 'ol depressed-flavoured executive dysfunction if ever I've felt one. 🥲

And on top of the "reminders" bit... Joker's also the only protag who has handwritten notes about events in the game on top of the Calendar Menu's summary too (courtesy of the notebook Sojiro gives him). Sometimes the date in the menu itself will be blank, but Joker will have these written down anyways:

Which is something that's often super helpful for ADHD folks when recalling our long-term memories (one of our bigger strengths), as specific details like these can help us piece the entire situation back together even if it was months/years ago.

(Good thing too in his case especially, considering the Interrogation Room plan hinged on him remembering everything)

So that's surely it, right?

NOPE.

There's another very important detail about Joker that's gets heavily underlooked:

Now we already know some key bits in regards to this information:

Sojiro absolutely doesn't starve him, and in fact he's not only willing to feed Joker on his way out the door, but he's also willing to teach him how to make Leblanc's food too.

And we also that eventually culminates in Strikers as a beloved game mechanic: Joker's Kitchen, which Joker does entirely of his own volition.

It's probably safe to say that he at least doesn't have a food aversion. I mean come on, he's got endless pockets full of random crap from vending machines, some of which sound absolutely inhumane. Or he's at a clinic guzzling random drugs with reckless abandon like the unhinged weirdo he is.

But with the above context that he has a tendency to lose track of time without Morgana's input, it adds a layer to this line that makes a lot of sense. Between being distracted by a task, and sometimes not having "hunger signals" at all, a lot of us tend to not even realize we've been starving all day. It's usually a state of "normal" nothing until oops it's Sudden Hunger Shakes O'Clock.

Which can also develop into just generally eating small portions of food as well, because again, we tend to "not feel hungry" unless it's extreme, and that can really affect our degree of appetite/intake.

Or in other cases, including my own and probably Joker's too until Strikers, there's a lack of general interest in food as a whole too. It's yet another time management task that you have to remember to do, every few hours, every single day, every single week, every single month, every single year. So you'll probably grab anything just so long as it's filling enough to get you by for the day. (Unless you have food aversion... Godspeed us all in finding filling safe foods that don't suddenly change and make us hurl 🫡💦). It's necessary of course, but there's a tedium to it sometimes regardless of the meal that you really have to fight with just to keep living.

Sumi gag aside, come on. Look at the sheer difference. That bun's smaller than Morgana's head and it's the barest minimum snack you can find anywhere.

"But what about the Big Bang Burger Challenge?" Come on man, we all know he's not doing it for the sake of eating. He's doing it to get smarter and prettier and kinder. The power of processed junk food filled with microplastics and employee tears I guess.

Distractability and focusing on a particular interest.

Obviously we don't go "SQUIRREL" at the drop of a hat like an excitable dog (despite how often people like to use that stereotype). But for some of us, our minds do tend to flitter around a bit in search of something to stimulate our brains.

Kinda like a zoo animal pacing around an enclosure, except it's our squishy brain trapped in a cage of bone and too little dopamine. 🫠

And in the abscence of something to work on or talk about, that can range from zoning out in classes/discussions (which Joker does a lot) to dissociate the boredom away (which ironically most people tend to see as "endless patience," if only they knew...), or looking for things to work on or talk about (which he... also tends to do a lot, depending on how much of the maps you explore).

And in Joker's case specifically, a lot of that tends to end up with him sticking his nose into situations that benefits the specific thing that gives him a purpose/drive (being a Phantom Thief), but are absolutely not normal things a teenager should be getting into.

Like dealing with the Yakuza. Or being the fake boyfriend of a drunk woman. Or paying his homeroom teacher to be a maid for him. Or a homoerotic shoot-out (... well, three separate times actually if you count an arcade game) with another teenage weirdo. Or T-Posing in a church to understand The Passion Of The Christ. Or unholy amounts of burger-eating to raise his "social stats."

He's willing to get into all kinds of mischief if it helps the Phantom Thieves. If it doesn't, then he's not particularly interested in starting anything with someone. More often than not, it takes Morgana mentioning how someone's services or skills "could help the thieves" to get Joker to be interested in them.

Or the person being especially pushy for him to cave in Maruki's case, to which Joker will make the same rationalization instead despite his initial pushback:

He's so dedicated to being a Phantom Thief that it's equal parts inspiring, relatable, hysterical, and sad to watch.

Especially since at the end of almost every single confidant (bar the party members', and Akechi's and Maruki's who both peg him as a thief pretty quickly through happenstance), every single one of them find out he's a Phantom Thief on their own. Because this poor boy is so tunnel-visioned on his role as "Joker" and helping people that he's about as subtle as a steel chair to the face and woefully unaware of it until it's told to him. 🥹

Lastly, NO TOUCHY.

Honestly, probably my favorite underrated bit about Joker that barely gets talked about.

Across the different P5 mediums (well, two as far as I'm aware of), there's at least one on-screen instance in each of Joker being touch-aversed whenever other people invade his personal space. Usually whenever he has physical contact with someone else (like any of the romaceable confidants, or Akechi), he's the one initiating it first.

In the P5 Anime you've got the bathouse scene between him, Ryuji, and Yusuke after Madarame's palace. In it, Ryuji jumps away from the hot water coming out of the faucet and bumps into Joker.

His response directed at Ryuji?

In English: "Please scoot back."

In Japanese (according to subs anyway): "You're making it hotter."

Both of which he says while hunched up with his shoulders to his ears and shooting Ryuji an unhappy expression.

Seriously. That is a "dead-inside and accepting reality" stare if ever I've felt one, choppy animation quality aside.

In P5 Royal meanwhile, you've got Yusuke's third awakening in Third Semester, where Joker says this when he suddenly grips his shoulders:

Both of which are basically the exact same message, just told in different ways.

... And that's not even going into how more often than not, any time we see Joker being touched on-screen by someone else, they're usually restraining or physically abusing him.

Whether you want to chalk that up to trauma from his initial arrest in the Shido Flashback, or as a ND aspect of his, is entirely up to you. Personally I'm leaning more on the latter as he usually only establishes this boundary with people he trusts (whereas he just outright avoids contact altogether around strangers), and he only breaks this boundary himself around specific people he cares about.

So with all that rambling finally done, hopefully this helps others notice some really cool bits of characterization around this loveable goofball. I won't say this a "100% accurate" interpretation of Joker as a character because everyone sees him differently. He is a self-insert after all.

But compared to the previous Persona protags (hell, even Atlus protags in general), Joker's always the one I immediately fall back to as the favorite for some reason. The coat is snazzy, he has a smirk that makes all the ladies and gay detectives weak at the knees, but... I could never really pinpoint the actual why until now.

Whether Atlus intended Joker to be neurodivergent-coded is up in the air, but there's just so many aspects about him beyond the player's control that hit really close to home, and I'm glad that he's such a popular and beloved character for the traits that make him him.