#or this would have been posted 3+ hours ago

[floraisunwell]

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (she's a nurse)

category: angst (bold move ig)

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

 As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

[strngegirl]

hii i really loved ur gojo: overtime drabble, can i req something similar with gojo but instead of us giving him a handjob he gives us one😞😞 idk if u write for male readers but if you do please do so!!

hellooo!! im happy you liked that post :DD nd i dont usually write for male readers but i would! so here it isss (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) i hope it's satisfying enough </3 this is kinda rushed ,,,

cw: gojo x very tired m!reader, very aggressive handjob (reader receiving), cum eating (gojo), both are ordinary office workers, unestablished relationship, reader kinda hates gojo, not proofread

It's currently 9 PM and you still haven't gone home yet. You would if you could, but that's the thing; you couldn't.

Your boss dumped a whole stack of work onto your desk last minute, said something about having no one else to do this for, then proceeded to leave without sparing you a second glance. The cruelty of this goddamn country and its corporate workplace rules has you daydreaming about blowing the whole place up. Alas, you couldn't. There'd be more consequences doing that, so you decided to simply do your job like a good, loyal mutt. If you even want to call yourself that.

What's even worse is that, you're alone within the same vicinity as Gojo Satoru.

It's not like he's the boss that dumped all his work onto you, he's just another worker in this god forsaken office whom the boss hates—but you hate him even more. Born rich and yet he chose to work here, everyone likes his magnetic personality, he always wears designer, and he's fucking hot. It's infuriating how he has it all and yet he's here in the marketing department of a shitty company that's teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. What does he even gain from this? "Experienced being a peasant" on his resume?

He's currently in the cubicle right across from you, and you're not even sure why he's here. He's been humming trending songs that kept playing in stores for the past few hours and giggling at something you don't really wanna know. Can't he see you're literally suffering working overtime?!

You narrow your eyes at the scintillating screen, the only source of light in the dark office alongside the table lamp you turned on three hours ago. Gojo laughs at something and you clench your teeth, trying to will yourself to not react to his disruptions because you just want to get these over with and go straight home and sleep. It was going so well until he started to talk to himself, then the already thinning string of restraint snapped.

"That happened? No way. Crazy-"

"Can you shut the fuck up?" You growl, a hand running down your face as the other grip your mouse so hard your knuckles are whitening.

There was a moment of silence where both of you say nothing, and honestly you're starting to relax a little at the upcoming tranquility that you thought would arrive, but as quickly as it had came, it went.

You see Gojo's white hair slowly appearing at the top of your vision, and you lift your head to look at him. He's currently looking over your cubicle with an impassive expression, those azure eyes staring right down at you beneath his shades like he's judging you for something you didn't do.

"You talking to me?" He asks.

"Is there anybody else in here that's been yapping all fucking night?" You deadpan. Something about what you've said must've been funny, because he starts smiling. God, that's straight up aggravating.

He lifts his arms up to support himself as he leans onto the partition, making it creak under the weight of his pressure. The old thing's gonna break. You hope it doesn't. If he crashes down and crushes your computer, you swear you're losing it.

"You're so mean tonight, man. Can't you go back to throwing me nasty glares instead? I like those better." He pouts mockingly at you, which grates on your nerves even further. Your work is forgotten as you currently just want to snap at him.

"Why are you even here? Seriously. You don't even need to work overtime, no one is forcing you to do their work you can just go back to your fucking penthouse and sleep like I've been wanting to for the last few hours. I'm tired, hungry and I seriously can't stand wearing this goddamn suit for another minute. All I want is some peace and quiet and yet, you're there, doing god knows what and breaking the only good thing I have right now." Your voice rises at every syllable that leaves your lips, and once you finish you take a deep inhale, feeling your body heat up from unleashing your frustration. You look back up at him and all you see is a raise of an eyebrow.

Gojo brushes a strand of hair away from his eyes then slowly starts to bob his head, unfolding his arms and clapping them onto your partition.

"Ooookay. Well, I'm here for you, actually." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow at that. "Don't. Not yet. Let me explain."

He disappears back into his own cubicle for a second, before you hear the pitter-patter of his footsteps approaching your cubicle. He stops at the entrance and leans against it, both hands simultaneously tucked into his pockets.

"I wanted to talk to you."

You blink.

"And we couldn't have talked in the morning or afternoon?"

He smiles a little. "Mmh, no. It's... Personal, and I'd rather we don't have any interruptions."

Now you're kinda curious. Pushing your one-sided hatred for him aside, you turn your chair to fully face him as you inquire him with a questioning stare.

"Anyways," he pulls his hands out and clasps them with a clap. "I know you hate me. And it's probably because of my dazzling appearance and charming antics that have half the office swooning over me"—you roll your eyes at that—"but! I don't want you to hate me."

You scoff at that. Does he just want everyone to love him? Is that it? So there'd be more people at his beck and call?

"I don't want to turn into one of your fans, Gojo." You rub your eyes.

"That's not my goal! Swear." Suddenly, he walks over and places both hands onto the handles of your chair and effectively caging you in, the abrupt proximity prompting you to lean back so fast your head spins for a second. His face is mere inches away from yours, as if silently threatening to kiss you.

The intimate way he's looking at you right now is making you feel a cacophony of things you're not sure what to name. You're sure annoyance is in there somewhere, but also mixed with other things you seriously don't want to acknowledge. No, it's mostly surprise.

"What the fuck are you-"

"I like you more than I should, you know." He murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "No one else in the office looks at me the way you do. It's fascinating."

Surprise washes over you when he gets closer, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips. It has to be the lethargy you're feeling right now, because why does kissing him seem so tempting?

Your lips suddenly feel dry, and the moment you dart your tongue out to wet it, you inadvertently lick his lips. He took that as a sign to crash his lips into yours. It was all bumping teeth, tongue biting and sloppy kisses, one that overwhelms your clouded mind. He puts more of his weight on you, causing the chair you're sitting on to roll back before it inevitably bumps into the partition, causing it to tremble slightly. That doesn't deter him from continuing to ravish your mouth.

You don't understand why you're not stopping him. In reality, you should be hating this. Hating him. But somehow, you're actually liking it. The realization sends shivers down your spine.

You hardly register what's happening, and next thing you know, you feel a sudden breeze brush past your tip. You yelp in surprise as your lips break off of his, causing him to promptly stop as well. Your eyes dart down to find he's already pulled your half-erect cock out of your pants, his hand wrapping a fist around your base. You snap your gaze back to his flushed face, a hint of eagerness in those eyes you used to despise but now desire to drink you in.

"Don't wanna?" He breathes, already loosening his grip on your cock. You instantly reach down to keep his grip there, manually making him re-tighten his grip. There's a newfound spark in his eyes, and the speed in which he suddenly starts stroking your cock gives you an immediate whiplash.

His lips meet yours again, the same hunger and fervor mixed with a heightened passion combined with the unrelenting pace in which he jerks you off, you swear your head is about to burst. The chair underneath you creaks so loudly you think it's about to crumble, but you hardly care when he's pleasuring you so fucking well.

Breathy moans escape from your mouth as Gojo drinks it all up, capturing them into his own mouth as he whimpers himself. He's fisting your cock like he wants to tear it off and you feel like it really is gonna fall off if you're not careful enough.

The air in the otherwise empty office has become heated, the serenity broken by both of your moans and the aggressive creak of your chair. You feel your cock twitch at the impending orgasm, and he definitely feels it as well because he starts chuckling into your heated make out session.

"Feels soooooo good, doesn't it?" He purrs, almost teasingly but there's no denying the underlying desire in his tone. You nod fervently as you start to thrash in your chair, and Gojo brings his other hand up to pin you down by the shoulder to ensure you can't get anywhere.

With a sudden cry, you jerk up repeatedly into his fist as hot cum spurt out of your tip, getting everywhere on his suit and hand. He doesn't really care though, because this might be the hottest thing he's seen all week. Gojo slows down his stroking before eventually stopping, just holding it firmly before his thumb moves to gently rub your sensitive head, smearing the cum over it. That action overstimulates you and you start whimpering, eyes rolling back at the slight pain it brings you.

"Such a mess." He murmurs, gazing almost lovingly at you. Slowly, he releases your cock as you let out a gasp, acting like you just ran a whole marathon. He brings the very same hand up to his lips as he starts to lick it clean, his tongue caressing through every crevice, trying to make sure he tastes every single last drop. You watch in a daze, watching the man you were despising toward not even three hours ago now licking your sperm off of his hand. He's the reason you even came.

God.

Gojo sucked on his index finger, making direct eye contact with you. He then releases it with a salacious 'pop!', bringing his head down again and kisses you. You taste the slight tang of your own release on his tongue and fuck, you think your dick is rising again.

"Do you still hate me?" He breathes into your mouth. You'd glare if you can, but you seriously can't bring yourself to. Your body is spent as hell.

Reluctantly, you shake your head and he smiles widely. Gojo Satoru got what he wanted, once again.

"Finally." He kisses you again. "Come home with me. Fuck your work, I'll talk to the boss for you tomorrow. I wanna fuck you."

You shouldn't. Damn, this goes against everything you believe in.

"I have a memory foam mattress. Silky blankets. And also really, really soft pillows."

...he sure knows how to tempt you. Fucking Gojo.

With a defeated sigh, you gently rub your cheek, hoping the red would go away.

"Okay."

[palmerzy]

wait it’s funny you say that bc i’ve been in need for some fluff too!! i wrote a spencer fluff post on my side blog a couple months ago abt how he’d act and comfort you on bad days and i just need some fluffiness bc my period is acting up again :(

a little tmi but i’ve been bleeding for 3-4 months straight and the pain never goes away, so i’d like to imagine spencer being so prepared and so sweet when it’s time for your period, because he’d understand when you’re moody, get your pads and your heating pad and your comfort blanket, agh

love love love! spencer is soooo attentive for sure. also, anon, that sounds AWFUL and i hope it clears up at some point 😭

spencer would just be the sweetest when you’re on your period. he’s definitely memorised your cycle, purely because he wants to be prepared and make sure he has everything at his apartment for you.

he 100% has a drawer in his bathroom full of sanity products just for you, and they’re there month-round for whenever you may need them. he remembers what foods you like, the genre of movie you prefer during your period, even what smells throw you off, and he’s sure to only put out candles he knows you don’t mind.

the first time you’d forgotten your favourite blanket and a hot water bottle when at his place, spencer made the journey back to your apartment to collect them - and he was sure to buy exact replicas to keep at his home in case of another emergency like that.

nothing to do with your body could disgust him, and he’s very familiar with blood given his line of duty, so any laundry he has to do when you’re there isn’t a bother to him at all. he allows you your free time, letting you bathe in his bathroom for hours at a time, and he’s also happy to sit with you whenever you want it.

usually when you’re lying in bed, he’ll put your heat pad over your tummy, and then lay his head atop it, hoping to give you some comfort with his presence. it’s definitely soothing, getting to run your hands through his long hair whilst the pressure of his body soothes your cramps.

he alternates between talking a lot to keep your mind distracted and saying nothing at all, letting gentle touches convey his care and concern for you. when he’s talking, it’s mostly just him reading to you, or rambling about something he knows you enjoy, because he’s aware that the sound of his voice is soothing enough to you.

he’ll watch movies with you that he usually wouldn’t enjoy, or read a cheesy romance novel so the two of you can giggle together. when he’s reading to you, you’re both laying on your sides, pressed together with your face nuzzled in his neck as he peers over you to recite the words. his free hand gently caresses your waist and your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles until you’re falling asleep in his arms, pain forgotten.

if spencer’s on a case, he’s checking in with you pretty often, calling during any free time. he calls you a lot normally, so it’s doubled when he’s concerned over how you’re doing. usually just short conversations, but it’s comforting nonetheless. “hey, baby, just wanted to let you know i’m thinking about you,” “have you drunk enough water? if you’re dehydrated, your cramps will hurt more, take care of yourself,” and “i’m buying you takeout, it’ll be there in 30 minutes,” even when he’s on the other side of the country.

when you get snappy with him, he remains entirely patient. he doesn’t really try to mediate you, because he knows it’s probably best to just let you get it all out - and you’ll apologise anyways. you’re never actually mean to him, just irritable over simple things. by now, he’s learned what ticks you off, and he ensures his place is free of any annoyance whenever you’re due on.

no matter what, though, he’s there. one way or another, on the phone or in person, he wants to check in on you, especially during that week.

oh lord i definitely need to brush up on my fluff writing skills HAHA

[the-crooked-library]

Okay I wanted to tell you that I'm literally drinking your posts about Nosferatu, thank you so much for sharing all your thoughts! You're helping me better shaping my own opinions.

And I have another thing that can't leave my mind so I thought to share: Ellen is in perfect control of Orlok, and it's never the other way round.

She is the one that summons him first, and after their first encounters (I got the feeling that they met more than once before her father discovered her and the encounters got unpleasant, but I might be wrong), when she rejects him out of fear and disgust, *he leaves her be*. Okay, he visits her in her dreams, but dreams are manageable, right? In fact Ellen moves on, she tries to build a reasonable life, she falls in love, and Orlok just leaves her be. It's only when she marries that he acts: because the vows of marriage can break the oath they took years ago.

And even if moved by jealousy and rage, even if he is so powerful that he can control animals, weather and human minds, even if he can bring the plague to a whole city, even if he kills and tortures everyone, he can't touch her unless she gives her permission, her consent. He barely even look at her without her permission.

And in the end he knows the dawn is approaching, he knows he's gonna die, he is more than satisfied, more than fulfilled, but she says "more" and so he stays. And he dies. Because she wanted for him to die.

I don't think Ellen is fully aware of her power and control over him since the beginning, because to admit to herself this much is too much for her. A part of her still wants and impossible normal life. But surely she knows. She places her hair in the lock...

And in the end she fully embraces this power, to the extent of her own death too.

I think this is what hit me the most in this movie. How big a role the girl plays in the action of the vampire.

hi - and thank you so so much! I am delighted to hear that you've been enjoying my posts about this film, because, quite frankly, I haven't been able to shut up about it at any point since I saw it.

Regarding Ellen's control of Orlok: this might be just my opinion, but I think it is strongly reminiscent of the dynamic between Sarah and Jareth in Labyrinth (1986)! Sarah's situation is, naturally, less traumatic than Ellen's - but she is the heroine of a coming-of-age fantasy film, rather than a gothic horror, so that comes with the territory. The point is, their stories share the same essential plot beats and deal with a similar subject matter, and Sarah's story is punctuated by her interactions with the Goblin King. Like Orlok, he is ancient and in some ways immortal; he is obsessive, dangerous, and magical in a way that does not fit in with the Normal World - which provides a point of endless fascination for Sarah, who also feels like an outsider in it. As such, the Goblin King both excites and terrifies her, he adores her and menaces her at the same time - and, crucially, he has no power over her. Here's how the story develops:

the loneliness, the frustration with her life

the summons, however accidental

friends/family in danger

at the same time - thrill, excitement, seduction, obsession

fairy tale time limit - 13 hours or 3 nights

confrontation/declaration of love, offer of eternity

the evil is defeated because he isn't actually in control.

The Goblin King begs Sarah to just fear him, love him, and vows to be her slave if she does; Orlok does much the same, insisting time and time again that Ellen isn't meant for the human world - that he would give her the companionship she wanted for all eternity; and the same pattern repeats in a plethora of other media as well, vampire, fairytale, and various derivations thereof.

Just to throw a few examples into the mix - Ellen Hutter, Christine Daaé, Sarah Williams, Will Graham, and Louis de Pointe du Lac all follow that specific dance. Each one of their respective monsters seduces, threatens, adores, coerces, rages - and eventually submits. Orlok is reverent as he stays with Ellen past the sunrise; Erik releases Christine in the finale; the Goblin Kingdom crumbles, Hannibal kneels in the snow and falls from the cliff, and Lestat allows Louis to slit his throat. For the pursued, this is, first and foremost, a story of self-actualization; and a fantasy of being loved so deeply that it supersedes all other possible concerns. None of these characters have ever felt loved by another human being - and so it's not surprising that the thing that wants them so much isn't human. It's really more of a reasonable assumption than a leap.

I absolutely agree that Ellen's actions are often very subtly questionable, in a way that almost feels like reaching; and I think that this is likely the intention - though that could be debated until the cows come home, given a contrary enough group of people. Still, in the film itself, she is indeed torn between Morality and Desire. Lines are inevitably blurred. The locket miniature for Thomas, the perfumed lock of hair for Orlok; a sacrifice for the city, a night of passion for her.

One proper, sane; the other invariably personal, close to the skin - clinging, like the scent of lilacs; and it could be said that this dilemma is best encapsulated by her description of a dream she had in the very beginning of the movie. In it, she is wedded to Death. None of the witnesses survive it. She is horrified, she has never been happier in her life, and it's rooted in the very core of her anguish. Because what sort of thing is she, if the only person that loves her wholly is a monster?..

[fel-09]

Woww, that was fast! hank you for answering! Are you open to share who else you'd like to write for?

My ask would have been like a reaction from Thranduil. Do you remember in the 'Hobbit Battle Off The Five Armies', there is a scene where Thranduil has a discussion (argument) with gandalf, and then turns to his guards giving the order 'if anything moves in that mountain, kill it'. (https://youtu.be/pIJolzpDGf4?si=8olgvSBAeXIlUT2b maybe this might help with the context)

Now what if- any scenario 'you', was in that mountain and let's just say they were in the wrong place the wrong time and oops- there goes an arrow through their mortal body. What if, somehow they survive and run to Gandalf for help, and meet Thranduil in the process. How would Thranduil react if he found out; it was his fault that the only person who somehow managed to crack open his stone heart after his wife's death, was pierced with an arrow and on the brink of death because of him?

I love your work so much, really I discovered it like an hour ago and I cannot stop reading one post from the other. Feel free to ignore though<3

Sorry that it is written so quickly and not well in some places, I am writing two more fanfics, (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)I also draw at this time, I don’t know, I’m probably torn to pieces

Even a king makes mistakes

Everything happened so fast, too fast to comprehend what was unfolding. You ran, unaware of what lay behind each corner of that mountain. The chase, the shadows, the unknown. And then… a sudden, searing pain. A cry, followed by the cold, metallic sting — an arrow pierced your body. You fell, and the world around you was swallowed by a fog. You heard the distant shouts, the frantic movements of people, but you were far away, somewhere between life and death.

Thranduil stood there, staring at your body. His gaze was filled with helplessness, while his heart shattered from what had occurred. "What have I done?" — this thought never left him. He stood there in silence, gazing at your face, knowing he would never forgive himself for what had happened. His hand, trembling ever so slightly, reached for your cheek, brushing a stray lock of hair away. You were so close, yet so far.

When you opened your eyes, they locked with his, as if drawn by some invisible pull. It was unbearable. Your gaze… you looked at him, not hiding the pain, and all he could do was freeze. Even with all his royal composure, he was undone by this single thought.

Time passed, and the medics knew what had to be done. You were in critical condition, but there was still hope. Yet for Thranduil, it did nothing to ease his heart. He sat in the shadows, unsure of what to do next. His mind spiraled in an endless loop of self-reproach and regret.

Behind him, Genjelf appeared. His gaze was as cold and composed as ever, but there was concern in it. He placed his hands on the king’s shoulders and spoke words that Thranduil had heard many times before, but never accepted:

— You are a king, though you’ve lived long enough, you can still make a mistake. Nothing in this world can be guaranteed perfect.

Genjelf left, leaving him alone with the weight of his thoughts, with the curse of his own realization. But what was worse — even in his regret, Thranduil could not forgive himself. His heart broke because he knew he had lost the one soul who had managed to crack his icy exterior after the death of his beloved. And now, if you didn’t survive, it would be his fault.

Only you and his past mistakes remained in his mind.

A day passed, then another, and you still hadn’t awoken. But in the stillness of those nights, your gaze met his once more when you opened your eyes slowly, as though emerging from a deep slumber.

He approached you, unsure of what to say. His voice trembled:

— You survived… You… You

You sat up, a weak sigh escaping your lips. You embraced him, feeling his warmth, his presence beside you.

— We all make mistakes, — you whispered softly, struggling but managing to hold him close. — But the most important thing is to admit them and move forward.

He pressed himself against you, knowing that, despite everything, he hadn’t lost what he once thought he might have forever.

"It's never too late to start again," he thought, feeling your words overshadow the inner pain he carried.

[falling-star-cygnus]

i've been toying with this idea for a while now, but the weekly release of s3 has been giving me motivation to post more Link Click stuff!!!

so, Lu Guang's ability allows him to look into the 12 hours following the aftermath of a picture- right? sooo hypothetically, if someone knew about this ability- they could set a trap not a 'trap' trap, obviously, but like- they could hurt him with it yk? it'll make more sense in fic form

kinda hand-wavey when it comes to timeline placement, but let's just say it's before Lu gets stabbed :3

"So..."

"...yeah."

"How weird."

Three pairs of eyes stare at the little envelope left on the counter.

"Neither of you left it here? Cheng Xiaoshi?" Qiao Ling asks- rather accuses her brother, while Lu Guang reaches for the package.

"Wh-!? I was out with you all day! When would I have even- Guangguang's the one who's been here!"

The accused in question tunes out the bickering siblings to pry open the glue seal. This argument was nothing new, after all, not this lifetime and not this week. It was kind of comforting, like a white noise machine.

What was new, was this package.. that only held a single photo. And no return address, or name attached... It wasn't even a particularly remarkable photo, just- a room. An empty, rusted room.

"Don't accuse Lu Guang! He's much more responsible than you-"

"Well how else could it have gotten there!?"

The pale haired boy wracked his mind for any ounce of familiarity, but... nothing. He can't recall having ever seen this place, or any timeline where this thing was dropped off. It didn't make any sense.

"LU GUANG!" the siblings shout at him, each slamming their dominant hand onto the counter. The photo slips from his fingers as he jumps.

...maybe he tuned them out a bit too much.

Cheng Xiaoshi catches it to take a look for himself, appearing equally as puzzled.

"Sorry, Qiao Ling-ji," Lu Guang ducks his head, "I stepped out for a second to check the darkroom. I didn't see who left it."

And wasn't that disconcerting. Someone had managed to sneak in and out of the studio without ever alerting the ever vigilant time-traveler. It left a weird itch under his ribs.

Were they in danger again? So soon? They hadn't even met the twins yet... had this timeline changed too drastically to be saved?

Apparently, his discomfort showed on his face too- his spiraling sanity as red threads frayed around him- because the next thing he knew he had his roommate nudging his side and offering the photo back.

"Guangguang? We're not actually upset, you know.."

"Uh... right." he didn't think they were, but he'll take the escape. And distraction.

"Yeah! Mistakes happen," Qiao Ling chirps, reaching up to ruffle his hair, "No harm, no foul, Lu Guang. We'll check the tapes."

The time-traveler can't help the rosy blush that colors his cheeks under the siblings' onslaught of affection and attention. Affection and attention that he didn't deserve for lying to them for so long. But.. he was greedy. Greedy for their friendship and so, so terribly afraid of what he would become without it.

"Oh, so the landlady gets to touch your hair without permission but when I do it-" annnd then Cheng Xiaoshi was ruffling his hair too, saving him from his head again in a far more chaotic fashion than his sister [yet he was no less gentle], "you get all complain-y!"

"Idiot, you're still hung up on that? It was years ago-"

"Hardly!"

Qiao Ling giggles at their antics and takes her leave- presumably to go check the tapes like she said. The two watch her go from their peripherals.

And then get to work.

Lu Guang raises the photo, trying to ignore the fuzzy feeling that spreads in his chest when Cheng Xiaoshi adjusts to block him from the view of any onlookers. They didn't need words at this point.

He could feel his friend's eyes on the side of his face, as if drawn to the blue light for some inexplicable reason. It was fine, he could dissect that feeling later. Or never, preferably never.

Right now, he had to figure out why this picture appeared.

Nothing happened at first. The photo was taken of and empty room, and the man who took it sat in a chair just behind the camera. It almost seemed like a prank. One hour passed, then two, three... four.. six.. nine.

Lu Guang was prepared for his time- his limited, precious time- to be utterly wasted. For Cheng Xiaoshi to be laughing at him when he resurfaced, and for that tight ball of anxiety in his chest to loosen somewhat when-

"How long are you going to hide in the past?"

His heart drops to his stomach, the empty space it left behind squeezing like a vacuum.

"Do you truly think you can save them?"

The man stands up, still facing the same half of that empty room.

"Do you think you deserve to, Lu Guang?"

"How do you.."

In all these timelines, all these threads he ties and breaks and travels and resets, he's never- no one has ever- Whoever sent this knows about him and his powers. Knows about the timelines.

Lu Guang runs through potential names.

Qian Jin? The twins? Vein? Liu Xiao? Liu Min-

"Don't bother guessing. I doubt you'd get it, even with all the time in the world."

"...what?"

He couldn't tell if the man was responding to his thoughts or words or just- knew him and was covering each base.

"See, people like you are interesting. People who think they're above the rules are interesting.."

A pale, crooked hand runs over grimy bricks. The hour creeps past eleven.

"You were raised better than that."

Everything happens at once.

The man turns around, revealing a mirror barely a foot away. Lu Guang doesn't get a chance to make out more than burning amber eyes before the room goes up in light.

| + + + |

Cheng Xiaoshi's knuckles are white on the counter.

He doesn't want to mess up Lu Guang's focus, or accidentally hurt him by pulling him prematurely out of the photo but.. he looked so scared.

It wasn't an emotion he was used to- or liked- seeing on his friend at all. If Lu Guang was scared, then what- the dark haired boy shook his head. If Lu Guang was scared, then... Cheng Xiaoshi would just have to be strong enough for both of them.

He could do that- he could totally do that! After everything Lu Guang helped him with in the past, Cheng Xiaoshi would offer his own hand tenfold.

"How do you..." his friend muttered, voice weak and fragile and quiet.

"Guangguang?"

As far as he's known, Lu Guang had never talked when inside a photo before. After and before, sure, but... never during. He itched to reach out, to brush that soft white hair off his friend's suddenly clammy brow.

Lu Guang's slender fingers trembled.

"...what?"

....he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But Lu Guang's never acted this way before! Not when he was awake. Maybe he wouldn't even notice-

No. No no no, he shouldn't risk it.

Cheng Xiaoshi would just- take him out for milk tea after this. Yeah.

A few more minutes pass, filled only by soft breaths and the tap-tap-tap-tap of Xiaoshi's finger on the counter. Lu wouldn't notice.

Would he?

No..

The photo falls from Lu Guang's hands at the same Cheng Xiaoshi lunges for him.

Barely, just barely does he manage to tuck his hand between the shelves and the soft white hair of his best friend- seconds before collision and so, so worth his undoubtedly bruised knuckles.

"Lu Guang? LU GUANG!"

The sound his friend looses is primal- hurts his chest in a way he didn't know possible- and his hands, slender and crooked in the knuckle, clutch at his face with such ferocity that his nails almost break skin. Cheng Xiaoshi guides him to the floor as gently as he can as the pale haired boy's knees give.

"It's okay," he whispers, looking around for something- anything- that could help, "It's okay.."

"I can't-" Lu Guang gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes still blue, "I can't see- I.. I can't-"

"Okay.. okay.. it's okay."

He feels like a broken record, but he doesn't know what else to say when Lu Guang is in so much obvious pain. God, could he even hear him? Who would- how-?

Cheng Xiaoshi bats his friend's hands away from his face and quickly covers his eyes for him, not wanting to add scratches to Lu's discomfort.

"Just breathe, Lu, I'm right here.. I'm right here." he says, tucking the pale haired boy against his chest until he was sure he could hear the thump of his heart, "Just focus on me, okay?"

That always seemed to calm Lu Guang down, at least.

"What did you see? Lu Guang, what did you see?"

"I don't- I don't know- there was.. there was a room.. and a man- and- and then light. He knew-"

He wish he hadn't asked. he hadn't heard Lu Guang this panicked and raw in a while. He was in pain. And Xiaoshi couldn't do anything about it.

"Okay.. it's okay," Cheng Xiaoshi digs around in his pocket, keeping his friend bracketed by his legs, "Lu Guang-"

Okay, okay, deep breaths. You can't help him if you're panicking too. Deep breaths. Don't tell you don't know what to do...

He tucks himself around his best friend, as if he could hold Lu Guang together with his body alone and rescue him from this awful, awful pain he was in. They never should've opened that envelope.

Eventually, Qiao Ling wanders back in, and she looks far more troubled than when she left. To be fair, so do her boys.

From there, it's a blur.

Lu Guang gets checked into a hospital, the sibling's lie to the police, Xiaoshi gets grilled by his sister on why they had to lie to the police, and everything spirals out of control.

Or, at least- that's what it feels like.

"Cheng Xiaoshi," Qiao Ling speaks up, from where the two are hovering anxiously outside of Lu's room. And wow, does this feel achingly familiar.. in a way he can't quite put his finger on..

She's biting on her thumbnail.

"The person who left that envelope on the counter... "

Cheng Xiaoshi looks at her, fist clenching in his pocket in preperation to swing at whoever dared-

"It looked like Lu Guang."

"...what?"

[visionsofyouandme]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Something lurks in the woods, ravenous and feared. Joel finds solace in a cabin, and in the belly of the beast herself.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6.1k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: DDDNE. Joel Miller x afab!Reader. Post Outbreak. No Ellie. Dark!Reader. Spooky vibes. No use of ‘y/n’. Reader has no physical descriptions but has she/her pronouns. Age gap. fear of monsters in the woods. Blood. +18 MNDI DubCon (Joel is “under the influence”). Somnophilia? Smut. Dry humping. Unprotected P in v sex. Swapping bodily fluids as a ritual (you’ll see👀).

𝙰/𝙽: Soooo idk how this even came in my brain but god when I started I couldn’t stop. I wrote this for my own self indulgence and decided to share it, cause I know there’s some twisted MFers just like me out there LOL. So, if you’re sick like me and love this shit, I hope you enjoy<3 Alright. Let’s get down to it.

Here on AO3!

“Be careful in ‘them woods. A monster hunts there, worse than Infected. Get somewhere safe before dark.”

Joel wanted to scoff, but still heeded the old man’s warning. Having just left the safety of the old man’s cabin and into the Appalachian wilderness, Joel made his way through dense trees and stepped over protruding roots. He didn’t know exactly where he was until the old man had produced a map, showing Joel that he was still going in the right direction of Wyoming. Being somewhere in Tennessee, he got instructions from the old man to stay near the road, and it would lead him to a small, desolate community that was abandoned some time after the outbreak. He told Joel to not stop until he got to that little community, and to find a house to stay in. Shut the doors, let minimal light out of the house, and stay quiet.

Joel had strayed from the road in fear of roaming raiders and Infected. He was losing light fast, and tried to find his way back to the road, but felt sufficiently lost. This didn’t completely worry him, as he still headed in the direction the old man had given him. He did want to find somewhere to lay for the night, and the man’s words lingered in the back of his mind as Joel threw a look over his shoulder every so often. 

He finally set his sights on a small cabin, and after watching, saw no signs of life. Jogging to the safety of the porch, he nudged the door open with his rifle raised. Doing a quick sweep, he saw no signs that anyone or anything had been in there. There was still furniture standing- a kitchen table with chairs, a couch and armchair, what used to be a media console was now bare and dusted. He lowered his gun and did a better sweep of the house- looking in the pantry, in hallway closets, opening the closet doors in the upper bedrooms. He found clothes, bedding, blankets thicker than he had seen in a minute. In the pantry, he found canned food and figured he would finally have something other than sardines for once. 

Whoever was here before left a hell of a treasure trove. 

He made himself at home as best he could- stoking a fire in the fireplace, laying out blankets and pillows on the worn-out couch, setting his rifle in arms’ reach. He found a pot and cleaned it out to the best of his ability, putting one of the cans in there to heat up food and actually have a somewhat hearty meal for once. 

He set the small bowl aside, wiping his face. The solitude was not foreign to him, and he really didn’t mind it these days. Being on the road all alone kind of forced you to be content with yourself. 

Shifting his eyes to the open window, he stood up and walked to it, looking out. He remembered what the man said, and closed the curtains, even though night had fallen hours ago.

He found a book and struggled to read it in the dim light, but felt something make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Outside had gone quiet. Too quiet. No birds, no crickets, no rustling of wind in the trees. Until, he heard the softest cry.

“Open the door! Please, god- open the door!”

Distinctly female, Joel jumped to his feet and grabbed his rifle. He shifted the curtains and couldn’t see anything but darkness, and the voice that seemed to be drawing near. He ripped the door open, rifle raised until he saw a shape appear from the treeline.

“Stop!” he called, and the figure came to a screeching halt, nearly doubling over. Definitely human. Not Infected.

“Sir, please- there’s-” she said, and swiveled her head around behind her, but Joel heard nothing. A million thoughts flew through his mind, and he gave a strangled huff and lowered the gun, nodding at her viciously to come inside. She shot out like a bullet, and as she drew nearer, he could see her features grow more clear. When she barreled inside, he shut the door tightly and looked out the window into the night.

“What was it? Infected? Raiders?” he said, and turned his head to the panting mess of a woman behind him, who cowered by the couch. She looked at him, eyes wide with fear, and shook her head minutely. 

“N-no. Not- I don’t know.” she said, her voice small, trembling. He huffed, and looked outside, and quickly shut the curtains even tighter. 

Shut the doors, let minimal light out of the house, and stay quiet.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, and she shook her head again. They stood on opposite ends of the room, assessing one another. Joel’s eyes cast down her- ratty clothes, gaunt features, bags under her eyes. She looked young and old at the same time- hard to pinpoint when you look like you’ve been to hell and back. He’s sure he looked similar.

“Who are you?” he questioned, his voice still low. Deep, sallow eyes watched him, and she whispered her name like it was a breeze. He nodded, offering up his own. 

“Joel,” she repeated, nodding like she was confirming it to herself. He nodded, and finally set his rifle down, raising his eyebrows and sighed heavily, the years suddenly tumbling onto his shoulders.

“Want something to eat?”

She was reluctant at first to eat, but he coaxed her into at least a can of chicken noodle soup. Even then, she didn’t eat much, her eyes moving between his like a frightened animal. He wondered if she regretted coming to the cabin for safety. 

He wasn’t much of a talker. He took the armchair, letting her stay on the couch. He looked at the fire as she pushed around the soup in the can, and he then looked at her a bit more closely in the firelight. She had bloodstains on her sleeves, her shirt. It didn’t look new, and he wondered how long she had been wandering with blood coating her thin shirt and jacket. 

“You… ya sure you’re not hurt?” he questioned, and she set the can down, looking over at him. 

“It’s not mine.” she said, regarding the blood, and Joel nodded. He leaned back in the chair, sighing with a bit of sympathy in his chest. In a world like this, everyone has lost someone. He just hated that someone like her- so delicate and fragile- had to be wrapped up in it, too.

“Where are you going?” she questioned, and Joel looked towards the fire. Did he really want to implicate himself in this? He didn’t owe her anything. But, he felt bad, sitting in silence. He cleared his throat, and shrugged, deciding to keep things vague.

“West. Hear there’s some people survivin’ out there.” he said, and she nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. The air was chilly, even with the fire, like life was being sucked right out of it. Joel stood up and put another log on the fire, twisting things this way and that to bring it to life again. When he sat back down, he could see her gaze still on him. Unwavering, cautious.

“Where are you from?” she questioned. Curious thing she is, he thought. No use in hiding, though. 

“Well, born and raised in Texas. After the world went to hell… well. That’s where things get blurry.” he said, and shook his head like it would erase the memory of life at the QZ. She nodded, and he felt a little uneasy under her gaze. He refused to give in to her, though, and kept his gaze on the fire. 

“What about you? Where ya going?” he questioned, trying to shift the course of the conversation away from him. 

“Was supposed to be going north. Canada.” she said, and he nodded, sighing deeply. He didn’t know shit about the situation up there, but he knew it couldn’t be much better than here in the states. 

“You lost your people on the way?” he questioned, and glanced at her at that moment. Surprisingly, her gaze was locked on the fire, the flames castng eerie shadows on her features. His eyebrows furrowed, and he could see something move over her face. Regret, maybe? Fear?

Giving Joel a slight nod, his suspicions were confirmed, but also put him at ease. She was alone. Good. Meant that there wasn’t much for stragglers, or worry that someone was waiting to ambush him. He nodded in response, and looked her over again.

“I have a spare shirt, if you wanna get out of that.” he said, nodding to her attire. She looked at him, a bit of gratefulness in her eyes and nodded. The exchange was quick- she left to the bathroom and emerged with his (very faded) navy blue shirt and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Settling back onto the couch, she looked at Joel and mumbled a thanks. He nodded, waving his hand dismissively. But, it felt nice to have someone to take care of again. After losing Tess, he felt pretty lost, the only hope driving him was that he may see his brother again. Or die trying to get to him. 

He heard her shift and saw her back turned to him as she lay on the couch. He sighed, his rifle next to his leg and he felt himself slowly succumbing to sleep, despite his best efforts to stay vigilant and keep watch.

When he awoke, it was dark.

Not just dark- but pitch black.

The fire had apparently gone out, and all Joel could see that offered light was the last dying embers of the fire. He began to sit up, his back groaning in protest, but he suddenly felt a heaviness on his chest. Not from anxiety, but like a light pressure trying to keep him down. He grunted, but felt a warm breeze fan his face, the scent sweet but tangy. 

“It’s okay, Joel,” a voice cooed softly. Warmth pressed against his face, and he turned to it out of pure instinct. A hand that was warm and soft like velvet brushed against his skin. Comforting. 

“Rest. It’s going to be just fine.” The voice was encouraging, soft and sweet and utterly enticing. His thoughts strayed to her, and wondered if it was she who was speaking to him now. Why was she so close? Why did she move from the couch? How was she making it so easy for him to… Fall… Back…. Asleep……..

When he awoke, he was covered in a blanket, the curtains drawn back, and the fire roaring steadily in front of him. He frowned, shifting in the armchair and looked around. His gun still sat at his side, and his eyes scanned the room for the girl. But, she wasn’t on the couch. In fact, it was her blanket that was draped over him. 

He called out her name, and sat up, rubbing his chest where he thought he could still feel warmth pressed there. Had he imagined all of that? Had it been a dream? It felt like one, but at the same time, could have been mistaken for an experience teetering on the edge of dream and reality. 

He grabbed his rifle, but heard a voice-

“Oh! You’re awake.” 

He turned to see her standing in the hallway, and she looked a bit better in the daytime. When she stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and to the living room, he could see she was definitely looking better- not as sallow, cheeks a bit more rosy, eyes a bit more relaxed. She still wore his shirt, and he nodded, wincing at the pain that shot through his neck. He reached up and rubbed it carefully, like he slept on it wrong. She frowned,

“Are you alright?” she questioned, and Joel nodded, and pushed the blanket off of him to stand but suddenly became lightheaded, the floor coming to meet him rather quickly. He heard her cry out his name as he fell. and felt her warm touch on his arm, pulling him onto his back. He blinked, looking up at the ceiling, and then her face that hovered over him. She was mumbling something, hands tracing over his chest like she was trying to find something wrong.

Warmth. Hands. Pressure.

That dream was starting to feel a little more real.

“Joel? Can you hear me?” she questioned worriedly, and he coughed to clear his throat that felt like it was closing up.

“Y-Yeah. Can you- help me up.” he said, his question turning to a soft demand, and she put her arm under his own and helped him to a sitting position. She broke away and handed him his canteen that he swiftly downed, the room finally stopped spinning.

Guess that canned food wasn’t as good as he thought.

He looked at her and could see worry etched across her features, and he smiled gently.

“S’alright. Must have had some bad food last night.” he said, and she nodded, though the concern didn’t leave her face. 

“Come on. Let’s get you to the couch.” she said, and helped him to his feet. He was thankful he didn’t have to walk far, and nearly collapsed onto the couch had it not been for her strong hold on him. He blinked, and looked at her, suddenly feeling exposed. Raw. Open.

He couldn’t afford to be sick with someone new in his sights. What if others showed up? What if she tried to rob him of his things and leave? He shouldn’t have ever fallen asleep. He should have stayed awake, and tried to have kept watch. Something. Anything.

“Here, I'll heat you up something.” she said quickly, and stood up to pick up the can of chicken noodle soup she had barely touched last night. Joel was too tired to care or worry if she had done anything to it, and she returned what seemed like hours later with the can and the spoon. She helped him sit up and he took it gingerly, beginning to shovel it into his mouth. She watched him warily, and tilted her chin down to study him more. 

“Whatever it is, you need to rest. You won’t survive out there without being able to stand.” she said quietly, and he nodded, hating he had to agree with her. He needed time to recover from whatever the hell it was that had a hold on him, whether he liked it or not.

Fuck, he thought. He gave the woman a passing glance. He didn’t know if he could trust her entirely, but he didn’t have a choice.

He was stuck with her whether he liked it or not.

He felt better over the course of the day. He was able to walk outside with her, and she pointed out a stream nearby where they collected water and boiled it to refill their canteens. Joel had eventually taken off his boots and laid up on the couch. He felt lazy, and was disgusted with himself. He had never taken a day off in the 20 years since the outbreak. Even if he got sick in the QZ he’d pop a pill or two and sleep it off, getting up the next day and going back to work.

This “break” felt forced. He hated it.

But her, on the other hand… he was somewhat grateful for someone to talk to for once. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, and couldn’t concentrate on reading, he focused on her. Asking her questions, keeping things light. She kept things vague, and he couldn’t blame her. When she questioned him, he did the same. They were guarded, watching each other, trying to see if the other was trustworthy. 

And by the way she diligently took care of him, even if he was a stranger to her, he was starting to believe she was just a fellow human desperate for human connection. 

She sat on the armchair that he had vacated early that morning as he sat up on the couch. With water and some food in his system, he felt better. She entertained him with a story about her former party- something about a friend formulating a new game to entertain children with as they traveled. When he heard that, his heart fell into his stomach. She had been around a decent group then, and a family at that- he was jealous. But also deeply, deeply sad for her. She talked about them fondly, and he could see a sad glint in her eyes. He felt a pull to reach out and comfort her. 

That distracted him for a moment. Why was he so… caring for her? He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy. Never one to encourage physical touch, or any kind of intimate moment. His days of softness were long gone, so this surprised him. 

“I hope they’re okay, wherever they are.” she said at the closing of her story, pulling at the frayed edge of the blanket that lay next to her on the armchair. He nodded, knowing the feeling all too well. Hoping that whatever kind of peaceful afterlife there was, that all of those people he loved and cherished were there.

Nightfall came, and Joel knelt next to the fire, shifting the sticks to make the fire burn a bit brighter. She had somehow found some firewood, probably by former inhabitants, and they were using that to heat up the cabin living room. 

“Here, i’ll take the chair-” Joel said gruffly, turning to stand and he saw her looking at him with a hard expression. She cocked an eyebrow, and he did the same.

“Joel,” she said sternly like a mother disciplining their child. “You need to actually rest, okay? I know that’s a tough notion to wrap your head around, but still.”

“We can alternate, then.” he said, trying to figure out a compromise. Another first for him- compromising was not in his blood. But, he wanted to appease both of them. “You can take the couch, and I’ll take the armchair. Tomorrow-”

“Joel, take the damn couch.” she said, her tone not unkind but softly demanding. Like the wind had been knocked out from underneath him, he sat down onto it with a grunt. He shook his head, and she smiled. In the dim firelight, her teeth looked oddly white and straight. This was probably the first genuine smile he had seen from her, and it was radiant. 

He sighed, trying to show his disdain for giving in, and she shook her head with that same smile, looking towards the fire. He looked to the window where the curtains had been drawn again, and he could hear the sounds of the night beyond them. He sighed, sliding his boots off and threw his body onto the couch. He pulled the blanket halfway over him, his hand over his stomach. He could barely get the words out to bid her goodnight as his eyes fell shut and he floated away from reality. 

He must have been dreaming. There couldn’t be any other explanation.

He felt the warm heaviness on him again. This time it felt like it was straddling his waist, the same warm hands on his chest. Arousal twisted in his stomach, and his hips shifted involuntarily, meeting something solid and warm.

He hadn’t had a sex dream in a long while, hell, probably years-

He opened his eyes, the ceiling dark but discernible in the dying firelight. The warm heaviness covered him, and his neck felt sore again. His hand reached up, and found a warm, clothed waist.

Sensing movement from the corner of his eye, a head lifted. It was her, and she looked surprised. Her mouth was covered in some kind of dark substance, hard to tell in the light that was barely there, her lips dark with it as it trailed down her chin. Her hand smoothed over his chest, and she smiled sweetly, noticing the smallest bit of teeth exposed from under her upper lip. 

“You’re okay,” she cooed quietly, and he felt warm fingertips brush his lips. Feeling a soft roll of her hips, he groaned softly. Whatever this dream was, it was both thrilling and terrifying. “It’s okay, Joel. Go back to sleep, I’ve got you,” and her head moved back down from his view, and he felt the ghost of warm lips on his neck.

With no other choice and no strength to fight it, his hand dropped from her waist and complete darkness overtook him again.

When he awoke, the sun was barely peeking through the curtains, and he felt heavy, his head spinning like he was drunk. He shifted, trying to bring feeling into his limbs again, and he smelled something oddly appealing. 

Meat.

He slowly sat himself up right and saw the fire was still going steadily, more firewood sitting next to the fireplace. He heard movement behind him and turned to look back but winced, rubbing his neck, feeling like the muscle was spasming. He pulled his legs off the couch, and rubbed his eyes. When they cleared, he looked to the kitchen to see her at the kitchen table, canteens sitting and a plate of food waiting. She was pouring over a book, and he stood up slowly, his joints cracking lightly and making him wince.

She looked up at the sound and smiled, closing her book. 

“Made you something,” she said cheerily. He nodded, craning his neck to see what was on the table. “Got a squirrel this morning, hope you don’t mind I used your rifle. I don’t know how to set traps, so…” she said, and he walked over to the kitchen table slowly, settling in the seat. Shooting her a look, he wondered how the hell he slept through the shot. Was he really that tired?

He could see some vegetables from a can that were steaming next to the seared meat. His stomach grumbled, and he quickly took the (somehow clean?) fork and dug in. He realized he probably looked like an animal, and slowed down, his eyes raising to her. She grinned, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Good, isn’t it?” She laughed, and he nodded, swallowing.

“Sorry.” He murmured, a bit ashamed of his lack of manners. She laughed, and shook her head,

“No, it’s okay. I had some food myself before you woke up. You should have seen me… Probably looked like a monster or an animal or something.” She laughed, and he grunted in response, continuing to eat. Feeling like life was literally coming back to him, he sat up and back. He regarded her with a guarded expression, trying to piece together what his dream meant. He could still feel the impression of hands on him, and he rubbed his chest absentmindedly.

“How are you feeling?” she questioned, and he shrugged, looking out the kitchen window that showed the sun was high in the sky. How long had he been asleep?

“Fine.” he said, rubbing his face and letting it fall into his lap. She nodded, and picked up the plate and fork, walking over and setting it in the sink like she was a dutiful housewife performing tasks. He half expected her to turn on the water and wash it. But, she turned and faced him, smiling lightly.

“You look better.” she noted, nodding to him. He scoffed, and shook his head, wincing at his neck pain again.

“Wish I felt as good as I look, then.” he said, rubbing his neck absentmindedly. She watched him, tilting her head to the side. She pushed off the counter, and walked over to him. She gestured to him, like she was asking permission to help. He looked at her and frowned,

“I don’t need- I’m fine. It’s alright.” he said, waving her off and she rolled her eyes, scoffing.

“Don’t be such a man. It’s okay to accept help every once in a while.” she said, and walked behind him. He shifted uneasily, and then felt her hands on his shoulders. Light, careful… warm.

He tensed when she began to rub, and she laughed lightly,

“Joel, if you don’t relax, you won’t help yourself.” she said, and he frowned down into his lap, and willed himself to relax. But, he just couldn’t. The thought of someone being so near, and a woman at that- he was just a man, after all. She worked at a particular knot in his shoulder and he flinched. He felt her shift behind him, and as she leaned forward, he could feel her face nearly against his ear.

“Relax.” she breathed quietly, and like a switch had flipped, he sunk into the chair. It felt like he was weightless- floating in the ocean, carried wherever the tide took him. Not a care in the world. Nothing mattered in the moment- not the Infected that roamed outside, the threat of raiders, the overall state of the world- nothing. Just bliss.

He let out a soft sigh, his head lolling forward as she continued to rub at his shoulders, her lithe hands moving to his neck. He sighed as the warmth enveloped him, feeling almost hot at this point- but the heat soothed his neck, making him even more lax. 

“Does that feel good?” she murmured, and he lifted his head slightly, mumbling a “yeah.” He could feel her hands working at his neck delicately, like she wasn’t massaging anymore but just… feeling. He really had been deprived of human connection, human touch, that he let out a soft moan.

His eyes opened gently, and he saw her kneeling in front of him, her eyebrows knitted in concern. She was calling his name, back down from the cloud he had been floating on. He blinked, and she put a hand on his knee.

“I think you dozed off.” she laughed lightly, and he looked at her, then the hand on his knee. He cleared his throat, sitting up straight but couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hand. She didn’t move it, even as he tried to regain composure.

“Yeah, uh… you must have magic hands.” he said, and she grinned. If he thought her teeth were bright and straight last night, it was even more so apparent today. And her lips were a deeper shade, like she had been putting on lipstick or receiving too many kisses. He swallowed.

She stood up slowly, and he watched her with soft brown eyes. He felt rooted in the chair, caught in her orbit. She nudged his knees apart gently, and he spread them dutifully, leaning back in the chair with a heavy stare. She tilted her head to the side, her hand moving out to touch his chest. He raised his hand, placing it over hers as it pressed over his steadily beating heart. She smiled, and he felt utterly entranced. Every movement was slow, graceful. He didn’t even notice when she settled into his lap, her other hand moving to the back of his neck. 

His free hand moved to her waist, where it held her gently. She was silent as the grave, but her body language and gaze spoke volumes. He could see this look in her eyes- soft, sultry, and maybe a bit pitiful. He raised his hand from his chest to her face, where he cupped her cheek gently. He leaned up slowly, like he was trying to emulate her easy movements, and she bent her head to meet him halfway, joining their lips in a kiss. 

The hand that rested on the back of his neck became firm, her hand curling up and holding his hair at the base of his neck. She leaned into the kiss and he sucked in a breath through his nose, feeling a hunger come over him. His hand on her waist became possessive, grabbing her and pulling her close and he heard her gasp softly against his lips. 

“What do you want?” he whispered against her lips as he went between kissing them and hovering over them. His jeans grew tight in his lap, and he could feel her smirk against his lips, giving her hips a roll. He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing and he pulled her down to guide her movements. 

“You,” she murmured, moving to kiss his cheek, his cheekbone, then jaw. He sighed, his eyes falling shut at her warm lips pressing against him. “I want all of you.”

When she moved to his neck, she lay a few careful kisses on the skin, moving to his pulse point. He grit his teeth, bringing her pelvis down to his to grind against him, his cock harder than it had been in years. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, taking her face back in his hand and crashing his lips against hers. She leaned into him, moving her hips in a way that made him moan. His hands found their way under her thighs and in a moment of sheer strength and lust, he lifted her up and carried her to the couch.

He lay her back on it and she huffed, looking up at him with glassy eyes and a smirk on those pretty lips. Her eyes moved down his chest, and he began to undo the buttons of his flannel, not even needing her to ask. She pushed herself up as he let it slide off his shoulders, pulling his undershirt off not too long after. She raised a hand, pressing against his stomach, up to his sternum, then chest. He leaned down to her and her hand snaked around his neck, pulling him towards her. He crawled over top of her, and she smiled, kissing his lips deeply. 

He sighed into her mouth, and ground his hips against hers. Hand moving up her side, under her shirt, he reveled in her warmth. She pulled away to pull her shirt off, and he was surprised to see nothing underneath. Fine by him, since he dove in and took a nipple into his mouth, giving it a hard suck. She whined, her hand curling in his hair again. He grunted in response to her flexing against his hair, and he bit down on it with just enough pressure to make her gasp, her hips lifting to his.

“Joel…” she whispered, her voice sounding familiar. Comforting.

He moved to her other breast, his hand moving up to fondle the other that he had abandoned. He laved against her skin, tasting her sweetness and soft, supple body. Everything about her seemed magical, other worldly- like she was an angel coming down to please him and him only.

He breathed her name into her skin, trailing kisses up her breast, her chest, her neck, her jaw. She whined in response again, and it only made the hardness in his jeans a bit more unbearable. He felt a tug at his waistband, and he undid her jeans, sliding them down and he stood to rid himself of his own pants. When his cock sprung free, hard and red and weeping with precome, she looked like she could salivate on the spot.

With their bodies now fully exposed, Joel settled between her legs, his hips grinding against hers. His cock brushed her slick core, and her body twitched in response. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, just thinking that she was just so wet. And all for him? He was a lucky man.

He felt her hand move down his side, then to his front where it wrapped around his cock. He sucked in a breath, feeling stiff and like he needed a release as quickly as possible. She dragged his cock over her pussy, and he shuddered. She looked up at him, pulling him up to meet her gaze.

“You want this,” she asked, but it ended up sounding more like a statement. He looked at her with a pleading expression, nodding gently, and she smiled like she had won the lottery. She kissed him deeply, and lined him up against her core. Without much more encouragement, he slipped inside her. 

Their chorus of moans echoed around the room, and Joel’s hips began to move as if on their own accord. He was completely out of this world by now- he didn’t feel like he was in control of his body. He felt like he was just sitting inside, feeling, and watching it happen. 

But god, was it not all so fucking good. Every sense was afire, his skin feeling as hot as the surface as the sun. He even began to collect sweat on his forehead, and down his spine.

He moved his hips against hers, dipping his head into the curve of her neck, laying soft kisses there. She tensed beneath him, and it caused his hips to falter just a bit, his cock twitching within her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and was able to take him deeper. He felt like his arms would give out from holding himself up with the way she twitched and moved her hips against his. The way his tip hit her cervix was making him tense. He felt her lips on his neck again, and he gripped the blanket beneath them so much his knuckles turned white with pressure. 

“God- goddamn.” he huffed against her skin, and he could feel her grin against his skin, laying a soft kiss on the side of his neck.

“God has nothing to do with us.” she said quietly, and he nodded, feeling like he was going to combust. His movements got more erratic, more frantic, the couch shifting beneath them as Joel continued his assault on her body. 

“I’m gonna- fuck-” he choked out, and she kept her legs tightly around him, feeling her heels dig into his ass. 

“It’s okay, baby. Let go.” she whispered, and he could feel the pressure rising in his lower stomach, and then suddenly it was as if a dam had burst. His hot spend began to release in her womb, and he then felt a pinch on his neck, lightheadedness coming over him. 

“It’s alright,” she cooed, and he somehow managed to keep thrusting into her through his high, panting into her neck. He felt warmth run down his shoulder, and her hand moved to his back to keep him against her. Her hand that lay on his neck curled in, keeping him locked in place. 

He didn’t know what came over him, but he turned his face to her neck and bit down. Hard.

She cried out, her body spasming around him and he almost came again, tasting something bitter and of iron on his tongue. Her body convulsed around him, and his hips were slowing down. Her head stayed pressed against his neck, that pain he felt turning into a dull throb. She laid her head back down, and he pulled away to see blood drip onto her chest from his lips. 

He panted, looking down at her as she looked up at him with stars in her eyes, her lips tinged with red that dripped from the corners of her mouth. He leaned down and kissed her there, licking up the liquid and hearing her sigh against him softly. He pulled out of her at last, his spend dripping out of her weeping hole. He collapsed on top of her, but managed to keep one arm up to keep looking at her. Her hand moved to his parted red lips and swiped the blood from his lower lip gently. 

She raised her finger in her mouth and licked, smiling up at him. Her hand moved to touch his cheek, bringing his forehead against hers as he panted, trying so hard to not pass out.

“I have been waiting for you.” she whispered, and he could only look at her in awe. She really was beautiful- exquisite. Ethereal. Divine. Like she didn’t belong amongst unremarkable, average humans.

He wouldn’t know this now, but when the next day would break, things would be different. Very, very different. Almost alarmingly so. 

But for now, he leaned his head into the crook of her neck that still seeped crimson, and pressed his lips there. He sighed, relaxed, and his eyes fell closed with the feeling of her hand moving steadily through his dark curls threaded with silver. 

Comment, like, reblog, anything is appreciated! Divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[imagionationstation]

Hey so sorry to bother you but… just saw you listen to Epic??? I know you’re a turtle nerd, as am I but… I NEED to know your favorite Epic song/favorite character right NOW PLEASE! You’re like one of the coolest people so to find out you also listen to Epic is…. Mmmmmmmm anyways I hope this isn’t weird or anything but PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW😭🙏🏻❤️

NOT WEIRD! LOVE THIS ASK! THANK YOU!

SERIOUSLY! I WOULD BE RANTING ABOUT EPIC 24/7 IF THIS WASN’T A TURTLES BLOG BELIEVE YOU ME

Alike to turtles, I have problematic views!! I look at things that 3/4 of the fandom shares a view in and go: That’s not what’s happening.

The people in my life have heard me ramble I cannot shut up:

I went to this event months ago and it did Trivia and a round was Greek Mythology and everyone in my group was like, “Neko, this is all on you. Don’t let us down” and I got 9/10 right. Go me ✨

Gonna see my bested friend soon! We never get to see each other so we’re making a day out of hanging out. We’re gonna watch the full saga. All of the two hours of it. I am collecting animatics. Silly goose thinks it’s an optional suggestion (it’s not <3)

(Don’t worry, I’m exploring outside interests too. It’s mutual 😜)

Asking me to pick a favorite song is like asking me to pick a favorite fanfiction child. All my children have gifts of their own to share and I love them all with everything that I have!!!

But if you’re asking what song I most commonly have played on repeat and/or belted on the top of my lungs when I’m alone…

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You tops everything else.

Based off this, I wanna say that Calypso is my favorite character. 🤔

I mean, I created a blog where our only purpose in life is to be safe in our horror and empathy for her situation and to acknowledge that she has so much nuance that the fandom doesn’t touch.

But I think if I’m being honest, it’s not her.

At the end of the day, my angsty heart is drawn to Athena.

DISCLAIMER: Controversal opinions ahead. Do not come yell at me if you do not agree. Tell me why I’m wrong, absolutely! But do it kindly and thoughtfully, and maybe we can have a conversation :D

I am passionate about this character. No aggression to the musical. Every song in the musical rocks. It’s merely my passion speaking.

Everything about her breaks my heart. She’s a goddess in a disfunctional family who doesn’t understand mortal ways.

Also, her dad is the most toxic dude alive.

I mean, there’s this one line that people portray in so many ways, but you watch how Zeus interacts with her and recall the fact that he literally didn’t want her to live when she was conceived- he is SUCH a bully and her respect only stems from him being ‘king of the gods’.

None of the gods step in during God Games. At no point does anyone go “dad you can’t threaten your daughter because she did exactly what you asked her to do”. Not even ARES.

He’s the one who says, mortified, “is she dead?” So he didn’t WANT that turn of events. He cares about her and her state of being.

She’s the only one willing to challenge Zeus and he literally says, “you won, I don’t care, I’m going to heavily punish you because I’m unhappy that you said a true statement I didn’t like”

I've no respect for bullies, those who impose their will I've seen plenty enough to truly understand this kind of filth

DO YOU SEE MY VISION?

Literally her entire life- no one’s been on her side! NO WONDER she doesn’t want to take Ody’s offer of friendship. Clearly no one has ever really given her trust or empathy that she can lean on.

She expects people to lack empathy. She doesn’t understand that he’s not that kind of person and her lessons won’t click.

Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you I see you changing from how I've designed you

Why would she trust a moral when she can’t trust the gods?

And she has such a temper which is so relatable.

They were in two different spectrums and that’s why they clashed.

She was running off of a mentor mindset. He was running off a friendship mindset. Neither was doing what the other needed for the relationship because they were not on the same page.

And then they hit the ditch in the road and everything cracked.

I mistook you for a general What a waste of effort spent

I'll remind you I saw you as a friend But now we're done

And Athena’s proclamation literally is a prediction for herself:

One day, you'll hear what I'm saying One day, you might understand One day, but not today

Time skip: the way that Athena talks to Telemachus says that she’s been stewing in regret because she KNOWS they were good friends and she didn’t want to admit it to herself. She understands why they clashed and now she doesn’t know what to do about it.

So this kid is like “I think you should help him even if he hates you. If he won’t accept your friendship then I’ll be here waiting.”

(*insert waiting, waiting, waiting mantra*)

AND THAT’S LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT SHE NEEDED TO HEAR?

SHE LITERALLY JUST NEEDED TO KNOW SHE HAD ONE PERSON ON HER SIDE? ONE FRIEND WHO CARED ABOUT HER?

I’m a sucker for ‘doing everything for the people you care about but platonically’ and Athena is the PICTURE of ‘oh wait I would platonically die for my friend’ and like?? That’s beautiful??? 😭

My only qualm with EPIC is the way that the Ithaca Saga handled Athena because you cannot convince me that it did not do her dirty. I have read and scrolled and chewed on all the arguments.

That. Beautiful. Goddess. Went. Above. And. Beyond. To. Mend. Her. Mistake and he outright denied her friendship.

That was not a “oh yeah we can be friends later” very well.

That’s a voice cracking, heartbroken: “I took a thunderbolt for you and you don’t want me in your life” very well. LIKE.

Yes. Oddy went through a lot. No denying that.

But he called out for HER. After everything, he called out for HER HELP. Showed a belief in her. Counted on her to save him

AND SHE DID WHAT HE NEEDED. TOOK A THUNDERBOLT. BEGGED ON HER KNEES WHILE SUFFERING AND IN AGONY.

I can't help but wonder What this world could be If we all held each other with a bit more empathy I can't help but feel like I led you astray What if there's a world where we don't have to live this way?

{I messed up. I want to do better. Is that still possible?}

If that world exists It's far away from here It's one I'll have to miss For it's far beyond my years You might live forever So you can make it be But I've got one endeavor There's a girl I have to see

{No. You have thousands of years to make other friends. There’s no world where we can mend who we used to be. You do what you need to do. My only want is to be with my wife.}

LIKE if they were going to try, the song would SAY that they plan to try. Jorge is not afraid to strongly imply things or outright say them. Ody doesn’t WANT to try and be friends. All he wants is wife. Which would be valid if SHE DIDN’T TAKE A THUNDERBOLT FOR HIM

ONE THAT SCARRED HER EYE AND KNOCKED HER OUT FOR SEVERAL SONGS SO SHE COULDN’T BE THERE TO HELP

There was no reason, no obligation, nothing but her love and affection for him that drew her to take that punishment from Zeus.

There is no way, after everything, she’s asking him to be her warrior.

She’s literally saying she messed up. She wants to mend their relationship. She wants to do better for him.

He could have said, “I’m not a man who does empathy anymore but we can try” instead of “I have other plans, gonna have to miss this friendship train” because that is an awful diss. Straight painful.

This amazing song did her so dirty and I will never get over it.

Thank goodness for Telemachus. She’ll needs his optimism and joy and willing friendship after the sting from that bite.

[tideswept]

in the face of all that isn’t yet [e] → chapter 4

The glare of the city lights bores into Obi-Wan’s eyes. He’s been staring out the window, throat snarled with nerves, for too many hours. His shoulders hunch close to his bowed head, index fingers pressed over the bow of his mouth as if to pinch his lips shut against the barrage that might spill out if given the chance. He hasn’t slept yet. Unpacked yet. Hasn’t prepared a report for the Council. All he’s done since that damned chronometer slipped into his waiting palm is sit at the edge of his bed like a beaten creature.  He feels like a great, sodding fool.

[ohbo-ohno]

omg I’ve read that fic!!!! One of my favorites tbh 😋😋😋

Also I was referring to day 15 I think, the super intense Ghoap puppyplay one?

I’m a little curious, what kinds of clothes do Ghoap let Reader wear, if any at all? Do they let her pick out her outfits, or do they give her dresses and skirts and cute tops for easy access? Are clothes a reward for being good for them??? Honestly I love love LOVE the idea of like basic amenities being ‘rewards’ for the Reader. Eating on your own without them hand feeding you? Walking upright? Wearing clothes? Sorry, you gotta earn it, princess.

~🦋

the INTENSE AF made me think it was probably about day 15 but then it occurred to me that all the noncon is pretty intense too lmfao

this is another ask i answered forever ago, but i think they keep reader naked almost all of the time! i think johnny kinda love to dress reader up like his doll in pretty dresses and bows, and he definitely loves to see her in his shirt. but ghost likes to keep his pets naked <3 johnny's naked in the apartment most of the time because that's just what he likes and what makes him comfortable, but reader feels vulnerable and exposed when she's stripped down like that - just how ghost wants her

[rev-velvet]

Alright now that Summer Nights is over its time to lock in and be on guard cause Nintendo could announce FinalFest literally at any moment. The World's End splatfest was obviously suspicious as fuck and that’s usually the trigger for a FinalFest announcement. So for everything to go on as normal this time means some actual world ending shit might happen. Im betting on IdolFest happening or another popular idea where it's the three poisons each Deep Cut member represents. More rambling under the read more Im just talking out my ass at this point.

Tbh at first I thought the FinalFest would be another race war with Salmoninds as the third option due to their increasing presence in both cities. But that immediately didn't make sense since A) Lore wise it would be ridiculous for there to even be Inklings vs Octolings and B) Nintendo might be cooking something bigger with the Salmoninds if Big Big Run was anything to go by. Im doing all this yappin just to say and Idol Theme splatfest is the most likely outcome my mindless rambling knows no bounds.

[the-clay-quarters]

if you're still taking these--🎲 for theodore and grace (or anyone of your choice >:3)

29. A kiss to the back of the hand. Tfw one of the people in Twitch's circle is? surprisingly polite? and put together? They hang out in pubs with zailor lunatics Where did they find this guy (The sentiment is mutual)

[Ask game]

[rosicheeks]

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[cosmogyros]

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[girlcrushau]